After a moment, he managed to curtail his ill-timed humor.
“The entire tavern was flooded,” he declared.
“How do you know all this?” she asked.
“I was close by when it happened. I heard a roar as if an entire building was falling down, and then there were beery fumes floating in the air all about me, although the flood was not in the exact street where I was walking.”
“You didn’t drink any of it, did you?”
“No, I went to my club, and that’s when I heard about the countess.”
“The viscountess,” she reminded him.
“Just so. We all drank a toast to Lady Chandron’s memory, and then we drank to Lord Chandron’s health.”
“And then you simply drank,” she muttered, realizing the lantern was moving. “Is someone with you?”
“Of course. My footman is with me. Aren’t you, Rigley? Yes. He says yes, he is. I brought him to throw the stones at your window and to hold the lantern. I’m an earl, you know.”
“Yes, I know.” Julia wondered how long he’d been at his club, bending his elbow.
“I’m teasing you. I threw my own stones. And I hit the mark, too.”
“You did.” She was glad he hadn’t broken a pane. “Thank you for telling me. I am greatly relieved, although I feel badly for Lady Chandron. Drowning in beer seems a terrible death.”
“I can think of worse,” he said. “Such as—”
“Please, don’t. I can well imagine them for myself. I’m going back to bed, and I suggest you go home and get to your own.”
“I could join you in yours,” he offered.
Her cheeks warmed, knowing the footman was listening to all this.
“No, you couldn’t. We’re not married,” she said firmly, mostly for Rigley’s sake.
Jasper started to laugh, and then he laughed harder. Shutting the window, she sighed. At least she could amuse him.
Lady Chandron! Dead!
Shaking her head, Julia slipped under the covers again. In truth, a weight had been lifted unless, in his inebriated state, Jasper had got it all wrong. But if he was right, she no longer need worry about Sarah’s good name nor the man she’d come to care for bedding someone else due to her own carelessness.
