Last Dance in London (Rakes on the Run #1) - Sydney Jane Baily Page 0,5
a shop in Manchester Square with the traditional sign of three gold balls, signifying the business of the pawnbroker, she’d entered to find an air of desperation. It was a place where some went as a last effort when all other means to secure loans or coin had failed.
Stepping forward between the useful privacy screens dividing customers at the counter, she sold the single earring easily for a modest sum. She would have received more for a pair, but still, the broker would take the stones out of the setting and sell them separately, and sell the silver to a smith to be reworked.
It was so easy, Julia wondered why many seemed to end up in Newgate jail. That small beginning had been two months earlier, and so far, she’d done well at this lark.
“Still abed?” her sister asked her, looking good-humored that morning, as she picked up a ribbon-tied posy from the chest of drawers.
Sarah was developing a tendre for a certain viscount, and Julia was happy for her. She would be even happier if her sister wasn’t always insisting that she, herself, find a dashing man of her own. The single men at the balls and parties were all eager enough to meet the sister of a countess, and just as eager to run the other way when they learned she was but a vicar’s daughter with no dowry to speak of.
Nevertheless, Julia was out in society. And society had a lot of jewelry!
“It was an exciting evening with Mr. Furley and his mother,” she said, sitting up and stretching. The curtains were open, and a watery sunlight was playing across her rose-colored counterpane.
“Hm. Exciting was it?” Sarah asked. “Yet Mr. Dawson said you came home in a hackney.”
Why did the blasted butler have to say anything at all? Julia wondered.
“Yes, so what of it?”
Sarah rolled her eyes. “You know very well the rules. You cannot abandon your escort and chaperone and run around as you please. This is not Chislehurst.”
“I know. But that viscountess! She kept looking at me as if I had designs on her precious son. He should be so fortunate!”
Sarah laughed. “True. He would be a fortunate man if you bestowed your affection upon him. I take it that was not the case. A wasted evening, was it?”
Julia thought of her encounter in Marshfield’s bedroom and smiled.
“What is that devilish look for?” her sister asked. “What happened?”
Swinging her feet over the side of her bed, she yawned.
“Nothing really. But the Earl of Marshfield is quite a rum duke. You didn’t warn me.”
Sarah’s mouth dropped open slightly.
“Do not even think about that man. At least not in such a favorable manner.”
At this, Julia snatched for her dressing gown and stood before draping it around her.
“Yes, tea would be lovely, thank you,” she said, tartly. “Is the dining room set for breakfast, or did I miss it?”
“He is not a handsome fellow,” Sarah persisted.
Julia lifted an eyebrow at her sister’s blatantly false statement.
“Yes, all right, he is,” Sarah continued, dropping the little bouquet onto the pile of posies Julia had on her dresser, “but he’s also reputed to be a rake, a libertine, a buck of the first head. Far more of a licentious earl than a rum duke, as you put it.”
“Fascinating,” Julia said, sliding her feet into some comfortable slippers.
“No, he’s not. You were supposed to be safe with that overbearing viscountess and her milksop son, or I would never have let you go anywhere near Marshfield’s party.”
“I was safe. I even left early, so no harm was done.”
“I think we must find you a dedicated chaperone for the rest of the Season,” Sarah decided.
“What about you? Don’t you want to come with me?”
“I’ll go out sometimes,” Sarah said vaguely, “but I don’t want to get in your way.”
“You mean now that you’ve met that viscount, you don’t want to waste your time.”
Sarah blushed. “I was partnered with him at a single dinner. Don’t exaggerate. Anyway, I’ve had one marriage already and am in no hurry for another. Let’s get a fiancé for you, instead. But not Marshfield,” she added with a shudder. “And you didn’t do anything else last night, nothing disagreeable, did you?”
Julia’s thoughts flew to kissing Marshfield, despite knowing her sister was not referring to any such behavior. She had made the mistake of telling Sarah how easy it would be to relieve an aristocrat of a piece of jewelry, and how much good use could be made of it.