though you already suspected it and were verifying the lady’s death.”
“Did I?” She was terrible at lying but would have to give it a whirl. “I meant the whole beer flood is true and not simply something I dreamt of last night. It’s hard to believe there’s so much beer in a single vat as to flood a street and basements, too.”
Sarah stirred sugar into her tea.
“What on earth was Lady Chandron doing in St. Giles at sixish?” she wondered aloud. “Or at any time for that matter? Hardly seems the place a member of the ton would be strolling or dining.”
“Mm, hardly,” Julia agreed before setting down the paper and deciding it best to change the subject. “There are a number of balls coming up before everyone departs London. Some holiday-themed parties and whatnot. Are we attending? And what of father? When are we going to Chislehurst?”
Sarah sighed, and Julia knew at once her sister was thinking of Denbigh. For it was the sigh of a woman mooning over a man.
“I don’t know.”
“You don’t?” Julia nearly laughed at her sister’s vagueness, which wasn’t like her at all. She hoped Sarah found a new man to take her interest and lift her spirits. “Well, do you want to go to some holiday parties? The morning mail should be here shortly with invitations. We’ll go through them together.”
Although, as usual it would be easier not to have her sister at any parties while Julia appropriated — a nice word, she’d decided, for obtaining more jewelry.
“We’ll see,” Sarah agreed. “I’m sure I’ll go to some. Perhaps we should stay with Father for a few months. I am sick of the soot and smoke of London, not to mention its inhabitants.”
Julia blinked. Her first thought was how she would miss Lord Marshfield. Her second thought was how she needed to stop thinking the first one. Besides, there would be no question of her being able to stay in London without Sarah. The house would be closed up until the countess wished to return. In that, Julia definitely had no say.
And then Mr. Dawson entered with the silver tray of missives.
There were invitations, some on blue and rose and even lavender paper, but Julia no longer had to worry about something coming from the viscountess, and she felt guilty in her relief
And then she spied thick cream paper perfectly folded with the bold black seal stamped with the letter M.
“Marshfield,” Sarah said, noticing it at the same time.
“I suppose it is,” Julia tried to sound nonchalant but her fingers snatched it off the tray. Trembling slightly, she opened it.
“What does it say?” Sarah asked.
“I haven’t even read it yet.” And she proceeded to do so, hoping her sister would start on the other invitations.
Dear Miss Sudbury,
Now that we have one situation taken care of, I would very much like to handle the other one. To that end, another ride is in order, don’t you agree? Please send me your response as to when.
Yours truly,
Marshfield
Just like that, his words made her pulse quicken and her breasts feel heavy, not to mention a terribly distracting tingling between her legs. Lust, to be sure, except her emotions were also now thoroughly engaged. She no long feared a tendre had blossomed in her heart. She knew it!
“Now you’ve read it,” her sister pointed out.
Julia refolded the note and put it on her lap. He must have written it early and given it to a footman to deliver. She would go upstairs and respond in a timely fashion.
“Yes, the earl has asked me to go riding again. I enjoyed it very much last time and might go again.” On purpose, she didn’t give even the hint of asking permission. It wasn’t her sister’s to grant, in any case.
“I suppose nothing I say will stop you, not even the fact that he’s now escorting Lady Arabella Doulton around Town.”
“If I decide to go, then no,” Julia said. “As long as Lord Marshfield and I are in public with a chaperone, riding with him cannot harm me, nor reflect badly upon you.”
“Upon me? Of course not. What have I to do with your poor choice in men?”
Julia sipped her tea before rising to her feet to help herself to a plate of eggs and bacon from the sideboard. If her sister knew the threats from the dead viscountess and how Julia’s actions could impact her, Sarah would be far less cavalier.
Nevertheless, having just got out of Lady Chandron’s frying pan, she