"Ridiculous? Me?" Jarrod glared at her. "You're the one wearing a scrap of silk that's within a hairsbreadth of revealing your bosom in all its lovely glory. I can't imagine how it stays in place as it is," he told her. But that was a lie. He knew exactly what kept her bodice in place and he also knew that if the room got any warmer, Sarah was in danger of exposing herself to the entire assembly. Heaven only knew what had kept it in place this long. "Blast it, Sarah! The nightgown you wore last evening was less revealing! And it was damp."
Sarah gasped. "Jays, there are people about! Someone might hear you!"
"Someone already has," Lady Dunbridge remarked dryly. "Fortunately, I am that someone." She pinned Jarrod with a look. "And you, sir, assured me at breakfast that Sarah had kept her traveling cloak on during her visit."
"She did," Jarrod hastily replied. "For all but a moment."
Lady Dunbridge arched an eyebrow. "A moment long enough for you to notice that her nightgown was damp…"
It had been impossible for him not to notice her nightgown was damp when he'd grabbed handfuls of it, shoving it out of the way so he could pull her against him and caress her bare bottom. But Lady Dunbridge didn't need to know that, so Jarrod kept that bit of information to himself. "It was raining quite heavily when she arrived and steam rose from her garments when she warmed herself by the fire. As velvet is not impervious to the weather, I assumed whatever she wore beneath her cape had to be nearly as damp as the outer garment."
"Nice recovery," Lady Dunbridge said. "It's all stuff and nonsense, but I commend you for being able to engage your brain and think on your feet." She smiled up at Jarrod. "Most men only think with that other part of their anatomy."
Jarrod's jaw dropped open at Lady Dunbridge's impudent reply.
"But you've just proven that you are not most men. Come now, Lord Shepherdston, don't look so surprised. You're a man of the world and far from innocent and I am a woman of three and forty who was married for ten years to a man who only thought with that part of his anatomy. We understand the nature of the beast and what is at stake here. Now," she said, taking advantage of Jarrod's continued silence, "say hello to our host and hostess and ask Sarah to dance."
Jarrod shook his head. "I don't think she ought to dance in that dress."
Lady Dunbridge bit the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing at the obstinate expression on his face. "Lord Shepherdston, the purpose of our being here is to show Sarah off to prospective suitors. Her dress is entirely suited to that purpose."
He drew his brows together in a mighty frown. "It is too well suited for that purpose."
"In your opinion," Sarah retorted.
"Yes," he answered. "In my opinion. And as I am a man, and might be considered a prospective suitor by some, my opinion is valid."
"Of course it is," Lady Dunbridge soothed.
"I came here to dance," Sarah told him. "And I intend to do just that."
Jarrod looked down at her nicely displayed bounty and made a command decision. "The only dancing you're going to be doing in that dress this evening is with me."
"Thank you for asking, Lord Shepherdston," Sarah replied, turning the tables on him by placing her hand in his and leading him toward the dance floor. "I'd be delighted."
* * *
Chapter Eighteen
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I feel again a spark of that ancient flame.
— Virgil, 70-19 B.C.
"That was nicely done."
"I thought so," Lady Dunbridge replied softly to the man who spoke from behind her right shoulder. "She handles herself well and I'm very proud of her."
"I was talking about you."
"Oh." It was all she could think to say, for his presence and the sound of his voice sent shivers up and down her spine.
He placed his hands on her shoulders. "I got your note, Henrietta."
She closed her eyes and savored the feel of his hands on her person. "I didn't know if you would come."
"Why wouldn't I come?" he asked. "When I've been waiting for you to send for me for years. Why didn't you?"