Page 100 of The Belle of Belgrave Square

Her brows lifted. “Gracious. It doesn’t seem at all pleasant.”

Jasper hoisted her carpetbags and portmanteau onto the bench at the foot of the bed. He felt a twinge of guilt that she had no maid to assist her in unpacking them. She shouldn’t be exerting herself.

“I must find the children,” he said. “But afterward, I’ll help you get settled.”

Her hand fell from the post. She turned to him, her hip leaning against the mattress, causing the wide skirts of her blue carriage gown to swell out to one side. “Where do you suppose they’ve got to?”

“In this weather? Somewhere in the house, very likely. Once I round them up, I’ll bring them to you for a proper introduction.”

“Or you could let them come to me on their own.”

“I’d prefer to start as we mean to go on. Besides,” he added irritably, “if we waited on their initiative, we might well be waiting ’til Judgment Day.”

Her gaze tipped briefly to something behind him. Her mouth curved in a sudden smile. “Very well,” she said. “I am anxious to meet them properly. Daisy, especially.”

“I’ll find her for you,” he promised.

With that, he took his leave, striding off down the empty stone corridor.

He hadn’t anticipated having to play truant officer the very day he arrived home with his new bride. No doubt he should have done. Though the children had known why he’d gone to London, none of them had seemed particularly keen on his mission. Too many books with evil stepmothers, he’d wager.

Ridgeway would say it was his own fault for insisting the children learn to read.

Jasper trusted that, in his absence, their knowledge hadn’t extended to reading anything in his study.

It was the foremost thought in his mind as he made his way up the circular stone staircase that led to the fourth-floor tower. A heavily bolted door stood at the top of the steps. A door to which only Jasper held the key.

Sliding his key into the lock, he opened it with a grating scrape of metal. The door swung open before him, revealing the shadow-kissed room where he’d spent the majority of his six years at the Hall.

Inside, things looked much as he’d left them. There was a sturdy wooden desk stacked with ledgers, a set of glass inkpots in a brass holder, and a sheaf of papers weighted down with a stone he’d found while walking on the moors.

None of the books that lined the walls were out of place. And none of the locked desk drawers had been forced open.

Thus far, the children had respected the sanctity of his study. Nevertheless, it was always the first place Jasper checked whenever he returned from a visit to Malton or York, never entirely confident he wouldn’t find it ransacked, all his secrets laid bare.

But not this time.

He’d been exceedingly careful. Before leaving for London, he’d locked his most private papers away in the desk. The study was neat and tidy, absent its usual whirlwind of clutter—the stray pages covered edge to edge in scrawled script, the stacks of dog-eared novels, and piles of correspondence.

Satisfied, Jasper withdrew, locking the door behind him.

Charlie and Alfred were probably hiding in the east wing. And Daisy was either battened down with them or tucked away in a cupboard somewhere.

Jasper set out to find them.

“You can come out now,” Julia said.

The door of the large mahogany wardrobe slowly creaked open. A small head emerged, followed by an equally small body clothed in a stained cotton pinafore. It was a little girl, with plaited hair as black as Charlie’s, and a face just as narrow. She gave Julia a frank look of appraisal.

“You must be Daisy,” Julia said. “How do you do?”

The little girl didn’t speak. She merely edged closer, examining Julia’s face and dress, as if drawn by an overwhelming curiosity.

“Have you been in there long?” Julia asked.

“Since the coach arrived,” Daisy said. There was a grave matter-of-factness to her words, reminiscent of the tone Jasper so often took. As if she’d modeled herself on him—the same solemn speech and manner.

“It can’t have been comfortable,” Julia observed.