Last Dance in London (Rakes on the Run #1) - Sydney Jane Baily Page 0,26

of the two pieces of his wife’s jewelry dragged her reticule down from her wrist, and she was certain it looked suspicious.

With her heart beating a fast tattoo, she fixed on a friendly smile as the man closed the space between them. When he stopped in front of her, she gave a respectful curtsy. When she rose, his gaze was firmly locked upon her cleavage.

“You have a lovely home, my lord,” she said, getting his attention. “Unfortunately, it is larger than what I am used to. I became quite turned around and lost.”

His face was a stone façade. In comparison to his stunning wife, he was plain at best. Some might even go so far as to say he gave the impression of a toad.

Unfortunate. While a lack of good looks was no reason for adultery, and she considered marriage vows to be sacred, Julia could sympathize a little with the man’s wife.

“Lost, are you?” he said with a sneer. “Let me see if I can help you. That’s a bedroom.” He indicated the door beside them. “Not a ballroom, which is one floor down.”

“Of course.” She didn’t care for his disparaging tone. “You see, I had a tear in the hem of my gown and went down to the ground floor seeking assistance. When I climbed the stairs, naturally, I was looking at your magnificent art collection. I went up too far without even noticing. I won’t bother you another minute.”

Dropping again into a curtsy, Julia rose and turned at the same time.

Quick as a whip, his hand reached out and grabbed her arm, brushing the side of her breast as he did.

“Are you sure you weren’t meeting someone here for a tryst?”

Frowning back at him, she shook her head. “No, sir.”

“My wife,” he said the word as if it were an unpleasantly bitter brew, “often enjoys the company of both men and women in her bed.”

Julia swallowed. It wasn’t her business, nor did she care, but the viscount seemed put out. Perhaps if he’d been invited to be one of the participants, he would be more tolerant.

“I assure you, sir, I wasn’t here to meet your wife.”

“Are you titled?” he demanded.

“No, my lord. But my—”

“Are you the daughter of a member of the nobility?” he persisted.

“No, sir. I am—”

“Good. It’s tedious when one gets into hot water with someone who has a whit of power.” In a flash, he’d opened his wife’s bedroom door and shoved Julia inside, slamming it closed behind them.

“How dare you!” she raged. At the same time, a snake of fear slithered through her, and being caught stealing jewels had become the least of her problems.

Chapter Eight

“Lord M__ was seen coming down the stairs from the private rooms of Lady Chandron during the ball. Speculation rippled through the other guests. And where was Lord Chandron during this time?”

-The Gazette

The traffic in London was becoming more of a nightmare every year. The population had doubled since Jasper’s birth, or so his mother was always complaining, and it was reputed to be the largest city in the world. At that moment, he believed it, and every infernal citizen was out in his carriage clogging Mayfair and preventing him from getting to the ball.

He rapped on the roof with his cane. The carriage was stopped anyway, so Rigley jumped down and came to the window.

“Yes, my lord?”

“Where are we?”

“New Bond Street, sir. Probably another half an hour by the look of it.”

“Thirty more minutes! That’s outrageous. Step aside.” As soon as his footman was clear, Jasper shoved the carriage door open with annoyance and jumped to the street. “I’ll be there in seven.”

Striding along toward Piccadilly in the evening fog and chill, he felt good passing the rest of London’s elite, as they sat thwarted in their attempt to get anywhere. Glancing at the doorway of Gentleman Jackson’s Boxing Academy of which he was a long-standing member, Jasper strolled past and, as he’d expected, was mounting the steps to the Chandrons’ house in less than ten minutes.

Leaving his coat and hat with the greeter, he went up a flight of stairs, keeping his eyes open for his blonde, blue-eyed favorite female. Normally, he wouldn’t attend a party at this particular residence, having had a brief affair with the viscountess two years prior, which ended abruptly when she announced she wished to leave her husband for Jasper.

With any luck, he wouldn’t even see his hosts. And after a week of dry discussions with other members of Parliament forming