Page 163 of The Belle of Belgrave Square

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.”