Last Dance in London (Rakes on the Run #1) - Sydney Jane Baily Page 0,97

he began. “My footman would have done that, that is, if I’d invited you to enter.”

In any case, with the step not down and no one to assist her, she could do little more than lean in and stare up at him beseechingly.

“Please, Jasper, let me into your carriage.”

He’d nearly escaped the pull of her, or at least the constant reminder of his near-obsession by seeing her at every ball and party. Each time, he hoped for more of her and very much wanted to give her more of himself.

Now, here she was in need of his assistance, her large blue eyes blinking up at him.

He sighed. “Very well. Rigley,” he called to his footman, who had already jumped down from the back perch and whose sandy-haired head popped into view behind Julia.

“You must back up, Miss Sudbury, so my footman can draw down the step.”

“Hurry,” she said, again glancing along the street the way she’d come. “There is little time.”

He heard a commotion and craned his head out the opening. It did appear that two men were trotting along the street in their direction, waving their arms and shouting.

“Bow Street Runners,” he muttered aloud, recognizing them instantly for what they were. Seeing her pale face and desperate situation, he reached down and grabbed hold of her arms, just in front of her shoulders, yanking her onto the floorboards.

“Barnes,” he yelled to his driver, “off at once!”

With the door still flapping and Miss Sudbury’s feet hanging out, they jerked forward. He heard Rigley jump on the back — thank goodness! — as Jasper would hate to be short a good footman. And then they were off.

“Lord Marshfield,” someone yelled.

Blast it! They knew him by his family crest, emblazoned on the coach doors.

“Ow,” she exclaimed as every bump in the road was undoubtedly bruising her ribcage.

As expediently as possible, Jasper pulled her farther inside, leaned out and managed to grab the door handle, although a jarring of the coach made him whack his head on the side of the opening.

He swore loudly, but in a tick, he had the door closed and secured.

Julia Sudbury was getting to her knees, a fetching image, but he thrust away his improper thoughts and assisted her onto the rear-facing seat before resuming his own.

“What trouble have you brought me today?” he asked, rubbing the side of his bruised noggin.

She said nothing while adjusting her bonnet and attempting to brush down her coat, which was smeared with dirt. After a moment, she gave up and folded her gloved hands, also grimy, upon her lap.

“Whatever can you mean by trouble?” she asked.

He couldn’t help himself. He laughed. When she said nothing else, he folded his arms.

“Come now, not every citizen of London is lucky enough to be chased by the famed Bow Street patrolmen, a cut above the ordinary thief-taker.”

“Is that who they were?” She blinked at him again, trying to appear innocent. “I noticed men following me, and thought they might be pickpockets or worse.”

“When did you first notice them?”

She shrugged. “I have seen someone trailing me before when all I did was go on the most tedious of errands.”

“What happened today?”

Julia released a large sigh as if she were the most put-upon person in existence.

“I went to the milliner for gloves,” she began, “and then to Sarah’s favorite perfumery. When she returns from Great Oakley, I thought it would be a nice little gift to give her a new bottle.”

“Yes, I can see why they were pursuing you so enthusiastically,” he told her, his tone laced with sarcasm. “Gloves and perfume would certainly set off the runners.”

“Then I may have stopped in at the pawnbrokers to sell something.”

He uncrossed his arms, gripped the edges of the leather squabs, and tried to keep his head from exploding like a cannon blast.

“It was something that had come into my possession weeks ago,” she added, as if that excused her.

Jasper closed his eyes and leaned back. There was a silver flask of brandy in his pocket. It was the only thing that kept him from throwing himself out of the moving carriage, or maybe throwing Miss Sudbury. However, he would save the soothing drink for later in the journey, when he grew desperate.

Hell! Even though they were barely passing Shepherd’s Bush, this was later! Drawing it from his pocket, he took a swig, keeping his eyes closed. He didn’t offer her any. She didn’t deserve it.

“Say something,” she said after a minute, not sounding as sorry as he