Last Dance in London (Rakes on the Run #1) - Sydney Jane Baily Page 0,79
other parts of his body. If Lord Neville hadn’t shown up, she might not still be an innocent, yet in many ways, the angry cuckold had been the final straw in removing the shadow of innocence from her eyes. Jasper’s irresponsibility and true nature had been thrust in her face, as surely as Lord Neville’s fist into Jasper’s eye.
That was just as well, she supposed, tapping on Sarah’s door to indicate she was ready. What life would it be for a woman who became the consort of a rakehell?
A disastrous one!
Nor had she heard a single solitary word from him since he’d put her in a carriage and kissed her hand. True, his gaze had lingered on hers, until she could feel the pulse beating in her throat, but he hadn’t pressed a last kiss upon her lips.
“Come in,” Sarah called.
“You look beautiful,” Julia said. It took a moment to realize Sarah was standing in the middle of her room, wearing only her undergarments.
“Let me get my mantle, then,” Sarah quipped, “and we’ll be on our way.”
“Sorry. That was stupid of me,” Julia needed to stop musing upon the earl. “But your hair does look pretty.” It had been put up by her maid with a feather-and-pearls aigrette on one side, looking rather jaunty and confident.
Why hadn’t he at least sent her a note? She’d looked every day for a missive with his black seal. Every day, she’d been disappointed and tried to quell the unwanted sadness. Expecting something uncharacteristic from a rogue like Lord Marshfield and then being disillusioned when he didn’t play the part was unfair. What’s more, it was a sentiment bound to cause her heartache.
She ought to simply enjoy the strange and sometimes thrilling friendship they shared, without expectation.
“Silver and plum or jade and cream?” Sarah asked.
“Jade and cream,” Julia said.
“But you’re wearing jade and cream.”
Julia looked down. “Yes, I am. Then why did you ask me? You must wear the plum and silver. You look dazzling in that gown.”
Sarah sighed greatly, and then the maid, whom Julia hadn’t even noticed standing by the armoire, withdrew a silver gown with pale purple ribbon woven under the bustline and through the caps of the sleeves.
“Why are you sighing like that?” Julia asked.
“Because you’ve been twitter-pated for nearly a week.”
Julia shook her head, glancing at the maid who ignored them both while draping the gown over Sarah’s head, taking care not to make a mess of her coiffure.
“I haven’t.” Then Julia paused. “Have I?”
“See, that’s what I mean. There you go again, acting like a pudding-head. Do you want to tell me why?”
No, she most definitely didn’t. “You’re imagining it. Do you want to tell me why you foolishly let Becky do your hair before you chose your gown? I think your aigrette has moved.”
Reaching up to adjust it, she stared at the nakedness of her right hand and gasped.
“What is it?” Sarah asked. “My hair can’t be that bad.”
“Mother’s ring,” Julia whispered. “It’s gone.”
They stared at one another. With her heart instantly racing as if Lord Marshfield were touching her, Julia dashed back to her own room. She scanned the polished surface of her chest of drawers, then she opened her glove box perched atop and rifled through all her recently worn gloves.
She had the awful notion she hadn’t seen the ring on her hand all day but had been too buffle-headed lately to be certain.
Sarah entered behind her. “I’ll help.”
Julia nodded, looking under the bed, then going to her bedside table while her sister went to the armoire. Too late, Julia recalled her hidden treasures.
“Oh my God!” Sarah’s words sliced through the silence of the room as Julia faced her, her stomach clenching with sickening apprehension.
Her sister rose to her feet, holding a handful of jewels.
“How could you? That first earring fell at your feet, but when you told me your idea, I thought it merely a fantasy, a silly whim.” Sarah shook her head. “But you’ve done it. You’ve taken someone else’s jewelry.”
“Yes,” Julia agreed. There was no question of denying it.
“All this time, I wondered why you were going to these dances and parties without caring about securing any man’s favor. You weren’t interested in finding a husband.”
“I told you I wasn’t,” Julia tried to defend herself.
“This,” Sarah said, shaking her clenched hand from which the jewelry dangled precariously, “this cannot be all of it. Where is the rest?”
“Sold,” Julia snapped, stepping forward and holding her palms open. “Give it to me, please.”