Last Dance in London (Rakes on the Run #1) - Sydney Jane Baily Page 0,58

Jasper’s face, never wavering, nor looking down even an inch, his face a permanent mask of placidity.

“Well, damn!” Jasper said, hearing Julia shriek something behind him. Obviously, she had heard.

“Can you not send the countess away?” he asked Mr. Greer, whom he’d quickly decided not to sack.

“No, sir. She will not go. I could only barely manage to keep her from coming upstairs.”

The man had actually earned himself a raise.

“What does she want?” he asked, feeling himself lowering to half-mast. As if he didn’t know.

“She wants her sister, sir.”

“Don’t we all,” Jasper muttered, hearing the female in question scurrying around behind him, probably in full view of the butler while she retrieved her clothing. Not that Mr. Greer would dare even the tiniest peek.

“Very well. Tell Lady Worthington Miss Sudbury and I shall be down upon the instant. If she tries to come up here again, you have my permission to lay hands upon her and restrain her. In fact, since I’ve re-hired you, it’s an order.”

“Yes, my lord.” With the slightest inclination of his head, Mr. Greer retreated.

Shutting the door, Jasper turned around.

Chapter Seventeen

“What type of party was it, dear reader? Lord M__ and Miss S__ showed up at Lady Ch__’s home at a late hour. Separately. Neither stayed long enough for a civilized dining experience.”

-The Sun

Julia was tying the neckline of her chemise with trembling fingers. Not an excited, anticipatory, please-Jasper-touch-me-again trembling either. This was the true trembling of fear. Her older sister had come to the earl’s house. Worse, she was downstairs and knew Julia was upstairs.

Upstairs, about to be ruined!

And how she had wanted to be ruined, too. Even then, she couldn’t keep her gaze off of Jasper’s magnificent figure as he stalked around the room, snatching up his clothes. The muscles of his rear end particularly fascinated her, slowing her attempt to do up her stays. She finished with them a little loose but hurriedly stepped into her petticoat, thankful he hadn’t removed her stockings.

Far more swiftly than her, Jasper was dressed, albeit not as neatly as when his valet assisted him. He stood beside her holding her gown. Raising her arms, Julia allowed him to slip it over her head before she donned her short bustier.

“My spencer,” she urged, and he jumped to grab it from the chair. She shrugged into her favorite blue and gray coat. “Ready.”

“Your hair,” he said. “I’m afraid it is hopeless to think I can recreate the style in which it was done before I caused you to writhe upon my bed.”

Had she been writhing?

She ran to his long mirror. Plainly, she looked a fright. With quick fingers, she smoothed through the locks of her hair before snatching up his comb and using it. Even more quickly, she made one thick braid.

“Do you have a ribbon?”

Surprisingly, he nodded. “I believe so.” From the drawer of his side table, the same one from which he’d extracted the strange covering for his lengthy organ, the sheath that had long since been discarded, he withdrew a gray ribbon.

She didn’t even ask whose it was or why he had it, but used it to secure the end of her thick plait.

Another knock at the door, and Jasper went to open it.

From what she could overhear, her sister was about to storm the stairs, and Julia’s temper started to simmer.

“My hat,” she hissed and smacked it upon her head, before sticking in a pin so hard she grazed her skull. “Ow!”

“Are you ready?” he asked.

“Yes. What’s more, I’ve gone from mortified to blistering angry at her interference.”

With those fighting words, Julia marched past him and the silent butler, who waited just outside the door. She headed downstairs, stomping as she did.

As expected, Sarah wasn’t waiting politely in the drawing room, but was pacing at the foot of the staircase.

“How dare you!” Julia said, preempting anything her sister was about to say.

“How dare I? How dare you?” Sarah retorted. “And why would you?”

“You shouldn’t have come here,” Julia countered.

“Nor should you. You are supposed to be at Lady Rendon’s gathering for women.”

“I changed my mind. Let me remind you, I am a single woman, unattached, beholden to no one.”

Sarah’s mouth opened, then closed, before she looked past Julia to the man coming down the stairs. Her expression became a mask of anger.

Julia didn’t turn, thinking it better not to make eye contact with the earl.

“Countess,” came Jasper’s smooth tone.

Julia had assumed he would be contrite or, at the very least, embarrassed. Instead, he passed her