Last Dance in London (Rakes on the Run #1) - Sydney Jane Baily Page 0,60
irrevocably inside her that night. She’d meant what she’d said in Jasper’s foyer. She was beholden to no one. As outrageous as it was to even think it, Julia was determined to make Sarah understand she would no longer allow herself or her actions to be curtailed. She was not of the Mayfair set, and she would stop pretending as though she had to be ruled by their strict code.
“If discovered, you wouldn’t be allowed to attend the meanest of social gatherings, never mind a ball at Lady Stilton’s.”
Those few words penetrated her brain. The only thing Julia would continue to do was take Mrs. Zebodar as chaperone when necessary in order to gain proximity to the bon ton’s wealthiest members — and their jewelry — for as long as she could. How else could she help the poor?
If her father or sister ever saw the types of places she’d been going to, carrying large amounts of coinage and bank notes, they would be livid. But the workhouses in Shoreditch, Whitechapel, and Wapping, the better of the worst districts east of London, had received her donations gratefully.
Occasionally, she caught families of women and children at the poorhouse gates prior to admitting themselves. Then Julia gave them enough money to turn away from the institution. At least for a month, sometimes longer. Now, as the winter months approached, the biting misery on the streets of London would get worse.
Sometimes, Julia felt as if she were the only one throwing money at the problem.
“I could send you back to Father,” Sarah continued.
That got Julia’s full attention. But it wasn’t the threat her sister supposed. After all, life was peaceful and easy in Chislehurst. If Julia could forget the squalor she’d seen and the hollowed cheekbones and sunken eyes of the Rookery children, perhaps she could relax in the country and find herself a solid gentleman farmer — a Johnny-raw, as Jasper had once called such a fellow. She might become a contented wife.
The earl’s wicked grin came to mind, along with his sparkling eyes. Even then, her stomach did a delightful twinge, imagining him touching her again.
She sighed loudly.
“Don’t worry,” Sarah said, mistaking Julia’s emotions. “I won’t do it. I would miss your company too much. And I would worry you’d never find a husband. But you must behave yourself.”
Julia opened her mouth to argue, then closed it. She would tell Sarah of her burgeoning notion of independence another day. Tomorrow, she had to meet Lady Chandron and discover her fate.
JASPER WAS SHOWN INTO Lady Chandron’s sitting room without delay. The missive requesting his presence had been short and mysterious, saying only it would be to his benefit to come. No matter. He’d been sent enigmatic notes from women before, and even though he had no further romantic interest in this particular one, his curiosity was piqued.
As long as she wasn’t going to beg him to rekindle their association, he didn’t mind a brief detour in his day. Also, if some good brandy was offered or at least some tawny port.
“A drink, my good man,” he asked the Chandrons’ butler before the man could disappear and leave Jasper alone to wait. “Brandy, if you have some decent stuff. Nothing homemade, mind you.”
“Yes, my lord.” And the butler disappeared. His answer told Jasper nothing about whether he would receive something potable and if so, when.
The door opened again two minutes later, and the butler entered with a silver tray containing a glass of amber liquid. All expectation of a soothing drink was instantly shoved from Jasper’s mind when Miss Julia Sudbury followed the man into the room.
The mystery had deepened tremendously.
She stopped and stared, her mouth forming a beautiful O. Clearly, she was as surprised by his presence as she was his.
He bowed to her, then took the brandy from the tray.
“Perhaps you wish to order a beverage.” He sipped the drink. “The Chandrons’ brandy is good.”
“No,” she said. “Thank you.” Then she looked to the butler. “Are more ... guests expected tonight?”
“I wouldn’t know, miss.” And then he left them alone.
“We meet again,” Jasper said, then offered Julia the glass, which she accepted without looking at it, keeping her gaze on his. Her cheeks had already developed a healthy rosy color. Not surprising as his own thoughts of her were decidedly blush-worthy.
Taking a small sip, she coughed, took another, then returned the glass to him.
“Brandy is as helpful as tea for such situations,” she remarked.