“Your daughter is not my enemy.”
“But you don’t deny it? A soldier of your character. A man accustomed to winning—to getting what he wants, no matter the cost.”
A whisper of warning prickled at the back of Jasper’s consciousness. The same damnable feeling he used to get when the tide of a battle was turning against him. It was an unmistakable signal he wasn’t going to prevail, no matter how fierce his efforts.
“I’m afraid you’ve been listening to idle gossip.”
“One hears things,” Sir Eustace admitted. He blew his nose into his handkerchief. “You have an estate in Yorkshire, I understand.”
“I do,” Jasper said. “Goldfinch Hall.”
“That’s your only property?”
“It’s a substantial one.”
“In Yorkshire,” Sir Eustace repeated.
“As I said.”
“And that’s what you propose? To marry my daughter and to take her and her fortune away with you to the other side of the country?” Sir Eustace gave another watery chuckle. “I’m precipitate. You haven’t yet offered for her hand. But that’s why you’re here, I gather. To ask my permission to court her. Well, you can’t have it.”
And there it was.
Given Sir Eustace’s manner, Jasper wasn’t entirely surprised by the rejection. He nevertheless stiffened at the callous way in which the baronet had delivered it. “May I ask why I’m to be refused?”
Sir Eustace tucked away his handkerchief. “You aren’t suitable for my daughter.”
“If this has anything to do with my natural children—”
“I haven’t an issue with your bastards. A man must sow his wild oats. Though you’d be advised to put them somewhere else before you wed. No female wishes to share a home with a whore’s leavings.”
Jasper’s voice turned cold. “What is your objection, then?” he asked. “Is it to do with my war record?”
Aside from the children, it was the only truly objectionable thing about him. His evil history. A blackened past no amount of goodness and decency could ever hope to erase. He was destined to spend the rest of his life atoning for it.
The irony didn’t escape him.
“I don’t object to your conduct in the Crimea,” Sir Eustace said. “Had I been an officer—and I would have been one of exceedingly high rank if my health had permitted it—I’d have ruled my men with an iron fist. It’s the only way one can turn common rabble into soldiers, is it not? Floggings and other punishments. Wellington himself once said that a man is no soldier until he’s received fifty lashes.”
Jasper was vaguely aware that his right hand had clenched into a fist. He willed it to relax, opening his fingers one by one to lay flat on his thigh. Nothing could be gained by losing his temper. Certainly not with Miss Wychwood’s father. Like most gentlemen, safe at home during the war, the baronet had no idea what he was talking about.
“No, no,” Sir Eustace went on, wheezing. “It isn’t your military history that makes you ineligible. It’s your choice of residence. As if I would ever permit my daughter to remove to Yorkshire! Her place is in London. She’s needed here by her mother and myself. We’re too ill to spare her. Any gentleman she weds must reside in town.”
Realization sunk in slowly. Jasper was loath to accept it. “And that’s your only requirement?”
Sir Eustace didn’t appear to see anything odd in this. “It is, sir.”
“I would think, given your daughter’s lack of offers, you might be more willing to entertain my suit. After two failed seasons—”
“You’re mistaken. My daughter has had several offers these past years. All by gentlemen who would take her away from here. Naturally, I refused them out of hand. Just as I must refuse you.” Sir Eustace stood. “I’ve already given my permission to Lord Gresham. He’s refurbishing his house in Grosvenor Square and has pledged to reside in town all the year round. It will suit Lady Wychwood and I to a nicety.”
Jasper slowly rose to his feet. He felt a peculiar numbness at his core. It was directly at odds with his burgeoning sense of outrage.
Miss Wychwood hadn’t been a failure on the marriage mart. She might have been married anytime these past two seasons.
Bloody hell.
Did she know her father had been refusing all offers? Did she even suspect? And all because he wanted to keep her here, within a stone’s throw of Belgrave Square.
And for what? To be a sickroom attendant for the remainder of her life? First to her parents, then to some aged husband?
Jasper fought to control his temper. “What about Miss Wychwood? You say that her marrying Gresham will suit you and your wife, but how will it suit her?”
“She’s our daughter. She will do her duty.”
“She’s of age.”
“Indeed. But if she marries without my permission, she inherits nothing from me. Not a pound. Not a farthing.” Sir Eustace tugged the tasseled bellpull to summon the footman. “I daresay a pauper bride isn’t as attractive to you.”
Jasper stood silent, his emotions roiling dangerously beneath the surface. There was nothing he could say. Nothing he could do. The facts were incontrovertible. He needed Miss Wychwood’s fortune. It was necessary for the children. For the survival of their estate. It was the whole reason he’d come to London. The impetus for everything he’d done thus far.
It made no difference if his affections had been engaged in the process. His own feelings didn’t matter. He didn’t matter. All that mattered was the money.
A smug smile shone in Sir Eustace’s eyes. “I thought not.”
Ten
It was nearing one o’clock when Julia returned to Belgrave Square. She hadn’t meant to linger so long at Bloxham’s. And now she had but a few minutes to tidy herself before her receiving hours.
Not that anyone ever called. Not so long as Anne, Stella, and Evelyn were out of town. But today might be the day someone did. Someone in particular.
The prospect of it boosted Julia’s spirits for a fraction of a second only to send them plummeting again as she recalled the terrible revelations Viscountess Heatherton had imparted about Captain Blunt.
Julia had been agonizing over the information all morning. It was why she’d gone shopping, hoping to forget her anxieties, if only for a while, in the purchase of a new novel—or five.
But even as she’d browsed the shelves of Bloxham’s for the second time in as many days, the knowledge of Captain Blunt’s extraordinary cruelty during the war had been there, nagging at her like a sore tooth. She couldn’t leave it alone. Couldn’t stop wondering what sort of man would do such things.