Last Dance in London (Rakes on the Run #1) - Sydney Jane Baily Page 0,48
groom making up the group, they set out for the park, entering through Grosvenor Gate, not far from his home, walking their horses in companionable silence until they were nearly at the southeast entrance of the King’s Road when he turned to her.
“Do you still have my pin?” he asked, deliberately hoping to catch her off-guard.
Miss Sudbury jumped, then turned slowly to face him.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Her cheeks flamed with her lie.
Jasper sighed. “I think we’re beyond such prevarication, aren’t we? I found you in my room, which actually makes three times I’ve caught you, not two. And then my father’s cravat pin went missing.”
“Your father’s?” she repeated.
“Yes. It meant a great deal to me. I would like my pin back.”
She looked down at the pommel, silent for a moment.
“I do not have it,” she said to her gloves.
His heart sank. Had she given it away to some other man?
“I see.”
“It’s not exactly what you think,” she began, echoing the words he’d said to Lady Daphne, except in this case, it was exactly what he thought.
“But you did take it.” He didn’t even turn it into a question.
She didn’t respond, obviously still unwilling to confess or to trust him. It didn’t matter. He knew the truth, and it was shocking. She seemed like a perfectly normal and nice young woman, other than her penchant for stealing.
“You might see if Mr. Bridge has it,” she added quietly.
“Of Rundell and Bridge?” Jasper clarified, realizing without her saying it directly, she’d pawned his pin.
“Rundell, Bridge, and Rundell,” she amended.
Her correction irked him.
“That seems incredibly unimportant,” he snapped.
“I’m sure it is important if you are the second Mr. Rundell.”
He stared at her — a hard penetrating stare — until she shrugged daintily.
“Are you and your sister in desperate need?” he asked, unable to fathom any other reason she would take something of his and sell it.
“No,” she bit out the single word.
Apparently, Miss Sudbury had a terrible compulsion or even some sort of mania. Also, quite clearly, she felt no to need explain herself.
“Will you steal from me again?”
She raised her head, looking at him with a frown.
“How could I?” she asked, still not confirming, nor denying.
He cocked his head. “What intent to your words?”
“We are riding,” she quipped. “How could I take anything from you?”
Blasted woman! She was being purposefully evasive.
“In the future,” he asked, annunciating his words clearly, “if given the opportunity?” Because Jasper still saw a future, at least for a short while, in which they could keep company and hopefully put out the fire of longing, which hadn’t diminished one whit.
“I don’t imagine you are having another party anytime soon, are you?” she asked.
He sighed. She was still dodging, and he was ready to give up.
“Besides, sir, you are bewattled,” Julia said, looking forward out over Rotten Row, past the breath of the horses, visible in the chilly air. “You do not have the right of things, I assure you.”
Bewattled? Yes, he was most certainly confounded by her.
“Will you promise to stop?” he implored.
“I will not speak of this any further,” she said.
Jasper swore under his breath. “We’re not speaking of simply picking a gentleman’s pocket of a silk handkerchief, although even that can result in being flogged or spending time in jail. This is larceny that can end with your death.”
She swallowed. He hoped he’d frightened some sense into her. Instead without looking at him, she gave a rather glib comment.
“I believe the courts are sentencing thieves less and less to hang and more often simply transporting them.”
He wanted to scream.
“To die in the airless belly of a vessel en route to a penal colony thirteen thousand miles away? That doesn’t sound much better than a quick dance on the end of a rope.”
He wiped a hand over his eyes. “I cannot believe we are discussing this almost as matter-of-factly as bantering over the cost of a pound of coffee beans.”
“Then let’s stop. I already told you I do not wish to speak any longer about it.”
He decided to let the matter drop. Maybe he could bring it up again at a more favorable moment. Perhaps when she was more open and vulnerable. He knew the perfect time.
“Let’s speed up a little, shall we?” At this slow walk, they would run out of their precious time before he could get her alone.
Going no farther, he turned them expertly, so they could trot back along the quicker diagonal path toward the same gate they’d entered.