Last Dance in London (Rakes on the Run #1) - Sydney Jane Baily Page 0,35

another merry party crossed their path. To Jasper’s dismay, by surprising coincidence, the Viscountess Chandron, overly dressed and most would say inappropriately so for the time of day, was at the center.

Even more surprising was her frank stare, both at him and at the Sudbury sisters. As befitting each of their ranks, Miss Sudbury, while not looking the least bit pleased to run into the wife of the man who had assaulted her, gave a curtsy first. However, when the viscountess should have returned a greeting to the Countess of Worthington and to himself, she instead gave a cunning smile.

“Both sisters, Marshfield?”

Stunned, not believing she could mean what her words implied, not in public, he said nothing.

Then she settled her narrowed glance on Miss Sudbury’s sister. “I gather you enjoyed yourself at my home,” she said.

However, the Countess of Worthington shook her head, plainly puzzled. Before she could say anything more than “I believe you are mistaken,” Lady Chandron gave her the shoulder, letting her group of hangers-on surround her again as she walked away.

Everyone in his circle knew the viscountess was a piece of work, but she usually kept her vulgarity hidden within her boudoir.

Lady Worthington looked at her sister and then at him.

“What a strange woman? I’ve never met her before. I wonder why she thought I was ever in her home.”

“The last ball I attended was at Lord and Lady Chandron’s home,” Miss Sudbury explained, “and I’m sure it was my relation to you that got me in the door. More than that, I cannot say, as I don’t think I spoke a word to her.”

Yet her glance darted toward him. Clearly, Miss Sudbury was unsettled. He wished he had some comforting words, but he knew she wouldn’t want him to mention the viscount’s attack in front of her sister. Nor was he certain why she seemed on edge regarding the viscountess, unless she was affronted by the improper innuendo behind the woman’s words.

And then he thought no more about the Chandrons as he helped the ladies into his carriage.

“We are firm converts to the joys of cricket,” the countess said. “The physicality of the sport, the speed of the runners, and how hard they could throw and hit the ball, it was all very exciting.”

“It was,” Miss Sudbury agreed. “Yet without your tutelage, sir, on where the trig was and who the colt bowler was,” she added, trying out some terms he’d taught them, “it would not have been nearly so enjoyable.”

He couldn’t help smiling. “It was my pleasure to introduce you both to the game.”

And the more time he spent in Miss Sudbury’s company, the more he wanted to spend. An unusual circumstance and one which he’d never experienced before.

After he dropped them home, he tried to decipher if this dawning attachment to a woman, this one in particular, was a good idea or even a desirable thing to have happen.

“To White’s,” he ordered his driver. Male company, billiards, and good brandy would knock some sense back into him.

However, a few hours later, he didn’t stop off at one of the most luxurious and costly houses of civil reception with his friends. No Cyprian, no courtesan, regardless of her sensual talents, currently interested him. Nor did memories of any of his previous mistresses entice him, either.

At present, no one attracted him save for Miss Sudbury, who had snagged him in her delicate web without even trying.

There was only one thing to do. Tup her and move on.

Chapter Eleven

“The weather was unseasonably warm last night, causing many guests to take the night air during Lord and Lady Wendelson’s ball. Lord M__ was seen leaving the ballroom with Miss S__ yet returned from the garden alone.”

-The Morning Post

Jasper was firmly of the belief that horses were an excellent distraction for any ailment, be it physical, mental, or even relating to the emotions. Miss Sudbury qualified as all three. She had his body aching for her, his mind constantly thinking of the blasted woman, and somehow sappy sentiment was involved, too, with an unfamiliar happy emotion when picturing her face.

He headed to Tattersall’s. Being surrounded by top-rate horse flesh at the Hyde Park Corner repository and auctioneer would drive the notion of a certain female from his mind. At least, he hoped so. Bidding on a new mount he didn’t really need was a weakness he allowed himself since he had few other costly vices. He paid his groom and coachman more than the rest of his household