Blumsey would be annoyed to see him looking less than spectacular as it reflected badly on one’s valet. Yet Jasper knew what he had to do. He had to claim the infernal woman as his own. He would spell it out for her this very evening. Nothing permanent, not at this juncture, but he could inform her of his desire to have an exclusive arrangement — more than a mistress but less than a wife.
A chit from Chislehurst ought to be satisfied with such.
So what was he waiting for? Why hadn’t he pressed his case more quickly, especially after her willingness in his own home? Indeed, what could possibly have caused him to hesitate from the first time her sparkling spirit had reached inside him and taken hold of his ... his soul?
Fear, plain and simple, that’s what stopped him. Liking a woman, admiring her, wanting to be in her company — and all without tupping her regularly — was a new and terrifying experience. A weakness that left him vulnerable.
Dammit! He was no coward. He’d been to war in France and faced the enemy with more grit than he felt squaring off with Julia. Tugging upon his waistcoat, he straightened and decided to engage with the enemy that very evening.
What better place than a ballroom?
JULIA HOPED SARAH WOULDN’T want to stay late. Having danced with Jasper and desperately wanting to give in to his invitation to ride straight to blissful purgatory, she needed to leave. She ought to go home, remove the fancy gown and undress her hair so it was back in the plain braids of youth, and remember who she was.
However, Sarah wasn’t waiting for her by the tall windows. Her sister was actually dancing, which was a lovely sight, warming Julia’s heart. She wandered the edges of the dance floor until she reached the far end by the musicians, and then she strolled back again, just in time to see Jasper heading directly for her.
At the look in his eyes, she caught her breath. Clearly, he had something important on his mind.
About ten feet from her, Lady Arabella Doulton stepped into his path, her back to Julia, her mass of dark curls flowing down her back.
Faltering, she couldn’t continue her own forward movement or risk running straight into the couple. But at hearing the young woman immediately raise her voice, sounding in high dudgeon, Julia paused.
“I have never been treated so shabbily,” Lady Arabella proclaimed.
Around Julia, the murmur of voices died down, as the evening’s real entertainment began.
“I am sorry you feel that way,” Jasper said, his head darting sideways so he could look past the peeved woman and catch Julia’s gaze.
Taking a step back, Julia couldn’t imagine why he was drawing her into the unhappy tableau. She shook her head ever so slightly, warding him off.
“Are you listening to me?” Lady Arabella screeched.
“Everyone is,” he told her, keeping his voice calm. “Thus, I suggest you lower your voice.” Then he did the unthinkable. He placed his hand upon her arm. “Let’s go somewhere private where you can tell me what has you up in the boughs.”
Lady Arabella wrenched her arm free. “I am most definitely not going anywhere private with you. Not ever again! Unless you are making me an offer of marriage, sir.”
Silence and the collective holding of breath by everyone around them. While the musicians played on, even some of the dancers had stopped to listen, ruining the perfect formation of the quadrille. The rest had to grind to a halt as well including Sarah, who came to stand beside Julia.
Lady Arabella had thrown down the gauntlet in front of Mayfair’s elite. If Julia had ever thought she’d done anything embarrassing or improper at a party, it paled in comparison. She had never witnessed such a scene, and surely, most of the other guests hadn’t either. It was simply not done.
For Lady Arabella to imply she’d already been alone with him.
For her to demand a public proposal.
Sweet Mother!
Yet Jasper raised an eyebrow, looking decidedly unperturbed. And Julia wondered if she were greatly mistaken. Perhaps some of the guests had witnessed the like, and maybe this was a common occurrence in the life of a rake. He might be used to dealing with wronged women confronting him in front of others, but it made her want to cringe as fans opened and heads leaned together. Then the whispers started.
Chapter Twenty-One
“Grosvenor Square was a bustle at Lord M’s home last night. A certain Miss S__