Last Dance in London (Rakes on the Run #1) - Sydney Jane Baily Page 0,34

Lisson Grove, but the canal—”

“The Regent’s Canal?” the countess interrupted. “I was most interested in its development.”

“I think everyone with an interest in progress is watching its development,” Jasper agreed. “A fine piece of engineering. It will be eight miles when completed. You can buy shares, you know. I highly recommend you do so. One stands to make a tidy profit. Another two years, I warrant, and the first part will be open to traffic. Imagine the speedy progress of goods and people across town by way of the canal. Most exciting.”

“I imagine Mr. Lord was not quite so excited,” Miss Sudbury guessed.

“Correct,” Jasper said. “His Middle Grounds had barely opened when he had to close them by order of Parliament. I must hand it to the man. He’s getting up there in years. Must be in his sixties, but he picked himself up and relocated his cricket grounds again.”

Jasper was looking forward to showing them everything and to experience watching a game for the first time, something he couldn’t recall, as his father had always brought him to matches, and he had no memory of his first.

When they arrived, there were already people on the few benches dotted around opposite the pavilion, and others stood in small groups. A few men on horseback were keeping their mounts still while affording themselves a grand view.

Jasper’s footman unloaded three folding chairs and carried them to a preferable spot. He felt rather proud as the ladies exclaimed over them.

“All the soldiers used them in France. Very handy,” he agreed. “I took the liberty of having my cook pack a picnic, although there are refreshment stalls.” He pointed them out across the field. “I didn’t know if the fare would be up to your standards. I hope the food I brought is acceptable.”

To his bemusement, both Miss Sudbury and the countess began to laugh heartily. Finally, Miss Sudbury wiped her eyes.

“That is rich, sir.”

“Is it?” he asked, studying her sweetly pink cheeks and sparkling eyes. “How so?”

The object of his interest looked at her sister, then back at him.

“I’m sure we were both thinking of the picnics we had as youngsters, consisting of a bread, cheese, and an apple. We used to pretend it was a feast just for fun.”

“In that case, I am sure you will be delighted by my cook’s idea of picnic food. Also, there are proper facilities in the pavilion, and if your parasols aren’t protection enough for your fair skin, we can always go in there to get a break from the sun.”

With the three of them settled down and drinking barley water, the match began. Almost at once, Jasper was kept busy answering their questions about the rules. He explained who the favored players were, identified old Mr. Lord at one end, watching as he always did, and soon had the women cheering at the correct moment of play.

The only blight was when he had to ask the men beside him to keep it down for becoming rowdy.

“There are ladies present,” he said, sending them a quelling glare.

“There shouldn’t be,” one said, and Jasper handed his glass to Rigley who stood by his elbow before rising to his feet. In two steps, he was nose-to-nose with the lout.

“And why not? Don’t you think I would rather keep company with their beauty than have to look at your homely visage?”

A younger man next to him started to laugh. “He’s got you there, Will. You are a muffin-faced squab, you must admit!”

The squab in question turned red in his muffin-face, but then he glanced past Jasper to the ladies whom he knew were watching.

“Apologize for being loud,” Jasper ordered him. “And tell them they are most welcome at Lord’s.”

The man hesitated, but then he sniffed and tugged his jacket.

“My apologies, ladies, for my rough language. And it’s ... it’s nice to see you here.”

His younger friend broke out into gales of laughter, but Jasper was satisfied and backed down.

They were treated to several guest players for the match, although this meant nothing to the Sudbury sisters, as he’d come to think of them under his protection. The rest of the afternoon was spent enjoyably. Everything in the picnic basket — the pigeon pie and cold lamb, bread and jam, and currant cakes — was perfectly acceptable. Declared a fine feast, indeed.

As he hoped, Marylebone Cricket Club beat St. John’s by four wickets. When they packed up, about to head toward the carriage at the edge of the field, suddenly,