Loving Julia by Karen Robards

her with an impatient frown.
    “What the devil are you scratching about? Surely you don’t have fleas!”
    This unfair attack sent Jewel’s temper flaring.
    “Listen, yer ’igh-and-mightiness, I agreed ter do wot ya say, but that don’t mean ya got the right ter insult me!” Clutching the side of the curricle with one hand to steady herself as they hit a series of particularly bad ruts, Jewel glowered at him. The earl looked down at her in some surprise, rather as if a piece of wood had talked back to him.
    “I beg your pardon. But perhaps you could explain to me why you keep, uh, tugging at the waist of that dress?”
    “Because it bloody well itches!” His apology had not improved her temper one iota. She still glowered at him, and he, damn him, had the gall to look amused.
    “Yes, I assumed that. But, er, why?”
    “’ow should I know? It’s yer bleedin’ dress!”
    His eyes narrowed thoughtfully, and he transferred the reins to one hand before reaching to lightly prod the material of her skirt. Jewel, glaring, twitched her skirt out of his reach, then had to grab the side of the curricle again to keep from being jounced from her seat.
    “What are you wearing underneath it?”
    Jewel stared at him. “My drawers, what else?” Surprisingly, making such a statement before the great “my lord” did not embarrass her at all, but she suddenly remembered the listening ears of the groom behind them and colored to the roots of her hair. The earl’s lips twitched.
    “Is that, er, all?”
    “I don’ think this be a fittin’ subject for us ter discuss,” she said primly, feeling proud of her new dignity. His lips twitched again, and then he grinned. Jewel, looking up at him as he laughed, was amazed at the transformation it wrought. He looked young, carefree, handsome, charming. She stared, dazzled. Then she frowned fiercely at him as she realized that he was laughing at her .
    “I believe that in addition to drawers a young lady generally wears a chemise, stays, and several petticoats beneath her outer garment. The material of the dress is not designed to directly touch the skin. This dress in particular seems to be of wool; no doubt that explains your, er, itching.”
    Jewel glared at him, fiercely resenting the grin that still lurked around his mouth. Handsome or not, earl or not, he didn’t have the right to laugh at her. But even as she scowled, she reached automatically to scratch her itching belly, catching herself just in time.
    “I know that,” she muttered, angry and embarrassed at the same time. “Wot do ya think I am, an ignoramus? I jes’ didn’t ’appen to ’ave my underclothes wit’ me.”
    “Of course you didn’t. Mrs. Masters should have seen that you were provided with the proper garments. No doubt she overlooked the necessity.”
    “No doubt,” Jewel said sourly, thinking that Mrs. Masters had probably put out the scratchy wool dress and nothing else on purpose. But the soothing tone of the earl’s voice insensibly made her feel a trifle better. Jewel said nothing, but her hand made another abortive movement to relieve the discomfort of the scratchy dress. The earl’s lips twitched, and her temper heated all over again.
    “Please feel free,” he murmured, and grinned. Jewel glared at him, and with a heroic exercise of will managed not to scratch.
    The rest of the journey passed in almost total silence. The earl, apparently caught up in his own thoughts, said nothing as he drove with more speed than care over muddy rutted roads. Jenkins blew a blast on a shrill horn whenever they approached a toll, and that was the only sound he made. Jewel herself, growing colder by the moment and exercising enormous self-control in the matter of her itchy dress, contributed a series of sniffs.
    The day warmed only slightly as it passed into afternoon, and she was freezing. Frowning direly, she wrapped her arms around her body to provide what meager warmth they could, but before long she