Last Dance in London (Rakes on the Run #1) - Sydney Jane Baily Page 0,71

oughtn’t to jump immediately into another possible fire. Sarah was correct how unseemly it would be to go riding with him while he had a known association with Lady Arabella. There was no sense in causing tongues to wag merely to please herself. None at all.

She would see Jasper again at the next ball, should he attend. And if not, all the better.

THE QUADRILLE, USUALLY an endless dance was over far too quickly since Julia was partnered with Jasper, who’d claimed her the moment she’d entered the ballroom. Foolishly, his eagerness had wrapped her in a blanket of happiness.

When they left the parquet dance floor, he steered her toward the refreshment table that ran the length of a wall in the adjoining parlor. She couldn’t help asking the question that had been on her mind.

“Where is Lady Arabella this evening?” Julia hoped he would say he’d tired of her already and had broken it off.

He shrugged. “I am not certain she’s coming. Besides, I came to dance with you.”

The earl was smooth, and Julia reminded herself precisely how smooth and why. Because he’d been perfecting his pursuit of women for the past few years.

“I keep hoping you’ll put me out of my misery,” he continued, “and agree to a ride in the park.”

Unless she was gravely mistaken, his invitation to ride in the park meant stopping at his home to finish what Sarah had interrupted. And Julia no longer intended to gift him her innocence.

“I know the Thames hasn’t frozen, but it’s cold enough out there to freeze my blood,” Julia said. “I don’t wish to ride in anything except a closed carriage with a warming brick at my feet.”

“We can do that,” he agreed. “A carriage can have a certain rocking motion, perfect for—”

“I understand the concept.” But she’d decided not to ever indulge herself — and that’s what it plainly was, an indulgence — with him again. Moreover, it made her look a fool. The Gazette had mentioned him coming in from the garden of Lord and Lady Woodling’s house with a flustered Lady Arabella, despite bitter temperatures a mere two nights’ earlier.

“What possible reason could Lord M have for going outside with Lady A__ in such chilly weather? Not to smell the flowers, surely!”

The silly little statement had made Sarah roll her eyes at breakfast. And rightly so. Julia, on the other hand, had felt a rush of envy and jealousy, two unpleasant emotions she desperately wanted to be rid of. Now, here he was trying to turn his rakish charms upon her again.

“I have no doubt one such as yourself can find a myriad of women who would love to enjoy a carriage ride with you.”

“Naturally,” he said, not seeming the least bothered by her dig at his fickle plurality of females.

Why would he? Unlike her, he knew exactly who he was, not conflicted by heart and mind and body.

“Then I suggest you find one of them and stick her on the hot brick in your cozy carriage.” She walked swiftly away, glad she hadn’t mentioned Lady Arabella twice. Then he would know of her unreasonable possessiveness, and he would probably grin with vanity.

After all, he had never belonged to her.

JASPER HAD HOPED IT would all happen as before. He would take Julia riding and divert their horses to his home — except this time, he wanted to carry their intoxicating attraction through to its inevitable completion. By now, she must have got over Lady Daphne’s bothersome warning, and as they didn’t have Lady Chandron’s threat hanging over them any longer, he was assured Julia would give in to the powerful pull between them.

So why was she walking away?

He reached for a glass of lemonade on the table. He thought he was the experienced one, but Miss Sudbury seemed to have him wrapped around her finger. And each time she blew hot or cold, he was on tenterhooks.

Where was Lady Arabella? She was beautiful and easy to control, and he never felt off-kilter in her company. That made her the perfect female. Yet all he could think of was his blonde minx.

What to do? Julia was ruining all his fun. It made no sense to be London’s most notorious rake if he couldn’t even participate in his usual licentious activities.

Draining the last drops of the lemonade, he wondered why he’d bothered instead of drinking from his flask. Although, he had to admit, it was refreshing.

Like Julia Sudbury.

In frustration, he ran a hand through his hair, knowing