Jasper looked up from his manuscript with a distracted frown. Seated at his desk, he was reviewing the final chapter of Reunion at Waterloo for what must be the twentieth time. He’d thought he had locked the door before beginning his work.
Clearly not.
It wasn’t the first mistake he’d made since Julia had gone. In her absence, he couldn’t seem to keep anything straight. His thoughts were in turmoil.
“She only left yesterday,” he said.
“I know when she left.” Charlie stalked into the room, his narrow face set in a scowl. “I asked when she was coming back.”
Not soon enough, Jasper thought grimly.
He’d already spent one night in their bed alone. It was one night too many. From the moment Julia had gone—disappearing down the drive in the Arundells’ carriage—he’d ached for her. Longed for her. And he could do nothing about it. He had to respect her wishes.
“Is she coming back?” Charlie asked.
Jasper’s heart was a leaden lump in his chest. She’d promised she wasn’t leaving him, but he couldn’t entirely believe it. Not after how he’d hurt her.
Good God.
The very idea of her returning to London—to that house where she’d been so unhappy.
He should be there with her. Not to fight her battles for her, but to stand at her side. To offer her his strength, the support of his proximity, just as he once had standing beside her on Lady Holland’s balcony.
“Is she?” Charlie asked again.
“She is,” Jasper said.
“How do you know?”
“Because she told me so.” And because her horse was here and most of her clothes. She’d have to return for them, at least.
“When will she be home?”
“A week. Possibly a month. However long it takes.” It was too long. Jasper knew that as well as Charlie.
“I still don’t know why she left in the first place,” Charlie grumbled.
“She needed time to think,” Jasper said. “And she had matters to attend to in London.”
“Alone.”
“She’s not alone. She’s staying with Lady Arundell and Lady Anne.”
Charlie came to a halt beside the desk. “You’re not there.”
“No.” Jasper pushed his fingers through the hair at his brow. “No, I’m not.” But he should be. He should be.
Thrusting his manuscript into the drawer of the desk, he stood, too restless to remain seated. He paced to the narrow tower window.
Charlie trailed after him, as persistent as a gnat. “How much time does thinking take?”
Jasper exhaled heavily. “I don’t know.”
“Only an hour or two,” Charlie said. “Not a whole week. Not a month.”
Jasper cast him a beleaguered look.
“Sometimes you can think too much,” Charlie pointed out.
A shaft of sunshine drifted in through the window. Jasper stopped to stand in its warmth. “I daresay that’s true.”
“It is,” Charlie said. “I don’t reckon she wanted to go anyway. She looked sad when she left.”
Sad. Yes, she had, hadn’t she?
She’d parted from the children yesterday morning with all due care, hugging each of them in turn and asking them to be on their best behavior in her absence.
“Be good for your father,” she’d said. “And for Mr. Beecham. And mind you be careful when you’re swimming and riding. I couldn’t bear it if anything were to happen to you.”
A lump formed in Jasper’s throat to recall it.
She’d had no such exhortations for him. Holding his hand as he’d assisted her into the carriage, she’d bidden him goodbye with the same level of formality she might use when taking leave of an acquaintance at a house party.
He’d borne it because he had to. Because he deserved it. She wasn’t being cruel; she was protecting herself from being hurt by him.
Time was what she’d asked for, and time is what he’d given her. But perhaps Charlie was right. Too much time could be a detriment.
“You should go and fetch her home,” Charlie said.
Jasper heaved another sigh. “Charlie—”
“Daisy misses her. She wants her to come back.”
A brief smile edged Jasper’s mouth. “Only Daisy?”
Charlie glowered, refusing to admit to any vulnerability.
But Jasper knew it was there—the soft, secret part of him that Julia had touched with her kindness.
“It isn’t unmanly to admit you want her back,” Jasper said. “That you’ve grown fond of her.”
“I don’t need her,” Charlie replied. “I’m not a baby like Daisy and Alfred.”
Jasper set a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “Of course you need her. We all do. Me most of all.” He squeezed gently before releasing him. “I trust you’ll help Beecham look after your brother and sister while I’m gone.”
Charlie’s head jerked up. “You’re going after her?”
Jasper collected his coat from the back of the chair. “As a matter of fact,” he said, “I am.”
Thirty-Seven
Julia stared up at the imposing facade of her parents’ house in Belgrave Square. It had been less than a month since Jasper had carried her out in his arms. Only a few weeks spent in the country, living as his wife, and stepmother to his children. Not much time, really, and yet . . .
It had altered her completely.
A shimmer of anxiety still fizzed in her veins, but it didn’t overpower her. Alone on the front step, she raised her hand and knocked firmly on the door.
It was opened by a footman she didn’t recognize. Jenkins Five, presumably, hired to take the place of Jenkins Four.
His gaze flitted over her. “Madam?”
She smoothed her hands over her lobelia blue silk carriage dress. Thanks to Anne’s maid, Jeanette, it was freshly sponged and pressed. Jeanette had seen to all Julia’s gowns on their final day in Yorkshire. It was a reminder of how invaluable a trained lady’s maid could be.
Julia was resolved to hire a new one for herself while in London. Perhaps, when visiting the employment agency, she could inquire about a governess for Daisy, and a tutor for the boys.
First, however, she had to regain control of her fortune.