Last Dance in London (Rakes on the Run #1) - Sydney Jane Baily Page 0,37
laugh until I cry today, aren’t you, sir? I have no lady’s maid because I am not a lady.”
It was his turn to feel his cheeks heat. “You have no title, to be sure, but you’re not a shop girl either, nor a flower girl, for pity’s sake. Your sister is a countess! Surely, you don’t traipse about London unaccompanied.”
Even the nearly useless Mrs. Zebodar would be better than no one.
“Indeed, I quite often do exactly that,” Miss Sudbury said cheekily.
“Zounds,” he swore under his breath. What was this world coming to? She could fall into the hands of ... well, of someone like himself. Or worse, some sly-boots or Jack nasty-face who might try to lure her into a brothel if she didn’t know better.
In truth, he oughtn’t to walk with her to St. James’s Park, as if they were a couple, but knowing she had no protection, he would do precisely that. If someone with tongue enough for two sets of teeth happened to see them and report it to the papers, so be it.
They fell into step.
“Tell me about something interesting,” she demanded in a familiar and endearing way, and he endeavored to do so for the fifteen-minute walk. Naturally, they took Constitution Hill through Green Park, coming up alongside Buckingham House at one end of St. James’s long, oddly shaped green.
True enough, there were the cows, the milkmaids, the delivery lads, and quite a crowd purchasing fresh milk. He’d been shown something new by this woman in his own backyard.
“Thank you, sir, for the company. Please, go about your business now.”
The vicar’s daughter was dismissing him.
“I think it best if I accompany you home,” Jasper proposed.
With great exaggeration, she rolled her pretty blue eyes.
“I am not helpless, nor in any danger. I promise you.”
“Given the last time I rescued you and from whom,” Jasper reminded her, “I am not sure your judgment on the matter of what is dangerous is entirely sound. Regardless, I intend to accompany you home, and we shall go the direct route, up St. James’s Street to the delightful Bond Street. We can look in the shop windows. Isn’t that what women like to do?”
Whatever protest she offered, he wasn’t going to miss out on a minute of her company in the casual environment away from the ballroom. He found it great fun.
When the milk was purchased and the address given, with a generous tip for speedy delivery, they strolled northward.
“Just to be clear,” Miss Sudbury told him, after they dodged carriages crossing Piccadilly and stepped onto Old Bond Street, “except for the extremely wealthy, most women don’t amble along peering into shop windows as if they haven’t a brain in their head. Most are trying to figure out how to feed their children or put a roof over their—”
She broke off as they stared ahead of them at the throng of people, predominantly women, doing exactly as Jasper had predicted.
He grinned at her surprised expression.
“They can’t all be the extremely wealthy, can they?” he teased, just as a member of the middle class, or so he guessed by her style of dress, pushed past them carrying packages. She was accompanied by two young girls, who looked to be her daughters by their resemblance.
“Normal families,” he pushed his argument, “enjoying the fine weather and the shops. Surely, once in a while, you can do so as well without it harming London’s poor in any way. Or do you still insist on staying to the parklands? Perhaps you should attempt to swing from tree to tree to reach Hanover Square.”
As he knew she would, Miss Sudbury started to laugh. It bubbled out of her until she had to cover her mouth with her white-gloved hand, and after a deliriously refreshing chuckle that made him join in, she caught her breath.
“I love the way you laugh,” he confessed, surprising himself.
Her eyes widened. Then she made a confession of her own. “I seem to do so around you more than at other times.”
“I am pleased to be of service.” And he was damnably pleased with himself.
They started a companionable walk along Old Bond Street to New Bond Street toward her home. Not only did she let him point out curiosities he noticed, she relaxed enough to exclaim over the odd bric-a-brac that caught her eye.
And on nearly every corner, she bought three-penny posies. Finally, after the third stop for such a purchase, he had to ask her.