Last Dance in London (Rakes on the Run #1) - Sydney Jane Baily Page 0,4

her gracious nod and proud tilt of her chin were any indication.

He waited only long enough to see them move into the row before pushing his way back through his guests to find Miss Sudbury. He had a plan. The farther they sat from the musicians, the less anyone would notice them. In fact, he had a particular window seat in mind for the next forty minutes.

However, when Jasper got to where he’d left her, the woman had vanished.

“Devil take her!” he exclaimed, glancing around. Nearly everyone had taken a seat now, and plainly, she was nowhere to be seen. His quarry had escaped.

Why on earth would she do that when she was about to have the pleasure of his undivided attention?

With a shake of his head, Jasper took the nearest chair. He had the gilflirt’s name, and if she was staying with her widowed sister, then he knew her residence, too. Old Worthington had lived at Hanover Square practically since it was built.

Miss Sudbury wouldn’t escape him for long.

Chapter Two

“A certain heretofore unknown Miss S__ has caught the wickedly wandering eye of Lord M__, much to her peril, we fear.”

-The Gazette

Julia awakened to a knocking at her bedroom door, but before she could speak, her sister, Sarah, swept in looking every bit the countess she’d become two years earlier when she’d married the old earl. Conveniently, he’d passed away within a fortnight of their wedding.

It wasn’t as if her sister had planned such a happy occurrence. In fact, the marriage had been entirely arranged by their father, the Vicar of Chislehurst and the Earl of Worthington, who’d taken a liking to the eldest Sudbury daughter. And why wouldn’t he?

Sarah was pretty and sweet. Moreover, she’d given in to their father since the elderly earl was promising not only would she be taken care of, but so would the entire parish of Chislehurst.

Julia remembered crying with her sister the night before the dreaded wedding, but Sarah had been dutiful and determined.

Then she’d been blissfully widowed and had even brought Julia to London to stay with her during her mourning and beyond. It hadn’t taken long for Julia to see for herself the excess and frivolous nature of most members of the beau monde. Especially when compared to the stark poverty outside the small privileged area of Mayfair.

While inspired by the good works of her own father through his vicarage, Julia realized there was little difference she could make to the lives of the poor who lived in such dreadful areas as the Mint, Devil’s Acre, or the Rookery.

And then, one evening, inspiration struck — or rather, fell to the floor. Naturally, because of Sarah’s new title, Julia had entry into the best houses, rubbing elbows with the wealthiest people, dripping with jewels. When a lady’s earring fell off during a ball in Bloomsbury, right at Julia’s feet, they made eye contact. The jaded female didn’t deign to stoop to pick it up, merely shrugging before continuing to dance. Undoubtedly, a wealthy parent or paramour would provide her with another.

Julia hadn’t minded stooping, and did so quickly before the earring disappeared midst the many slippered and booted feet. Examining her prize, she walked slowly back to the edge of the room. Sarah, wearing black crape near the end of her year of mourning, had agreed to chaperone.

Julia realized she held in her hand a diamond and an emerald in a silver setting. Amazing!

“What have you there?” Sarah had asked.

“An earring.” Julia held out her palm to show her.

“Oh dear. I wonder if we can find the owner.”

“I know who the owner is, and she doesn’t want it.”

“Whatever do you mean?” Her sister had frowned.

After all, who in their right mind could imagine such foolishness?

“I mean exactly that — the spoiled lady turned her nose up at claiming her eardrop because it was on the floor. Can you imagine such an indulgent creature?”

“I cannot,” her sister confessed.

And then an idea had come into Julia’s head. There was probably an abundance of baubles and dazzlers the wealthy neither cared about, nor needed. And if Julia could only skim a few of those and find someone to buy them from her, then she could help the poor after all. While she couldn’t provide jobs or housing, she might be able to give them the means to eat for a week and pay rent for a month.

Taking a page from John Major’s History of Greater Britain, she’d decided to become a female Robin Hood. Locating