Page 68 of The Belle of Belgrave Square

Her expression turned wary. “What sorts of conditions?”

He was matter-of-fact. Never mind that they’d just been discussing courtship and the marriage bed. “I have a past,” he said. “You know some of it. The rest I prefer to keep private. You’re to ask me no questions about my parents or about my time before the war.”

She looked as though she wanted to ask him already. But she didn’t. “I promise.”

Jasper continued with brutal frankness. “There are other things I wish to keep private, too. Work I do that must remain secret. As a consequence, the door of my study on the fourth floor of the Hall remains locked at all times. You’re never to enter it.”

Her eyes widened. He could well imagine what she thought. That he had some exciting double life as a criminal or as a spy for the Crown.

The truth was nothing so lucrative.

“I won’t,” she promised. “But the work you do . . . It isn’t nefarious, is it?”

“No,” he said. “It hurts no one.”

It helped no one, either. Not of late. But all that was going to have to change. Without a rich bride to smooth the way, the burden would, once again, be entirely on Jasper’s shoulders. If he didn’t make some alterations in his approach, he and his fledgling family would soon be worse off than they were now.

“Is there anything else?” she asked.

“Yes. The children. They’re a bit wild. A bit . . . difficult. They may not take to you right away. And they may say things about their mother that might upset you. I haven’t discouraged them from speaking of her. I wouldn’t wish them to feel they couldn’t.”

“I would never expect them to refrain. Not on my account. I know I’m not—” She broke off, something inexplicable in her face. A brief flicker of insecurity or, perhaps, resignation. “That is, I know ours won’t be a love match. I don’t ask that you accord me any special treatment.”

Jasper couldn’t fathom what he’d said to inspire her reply. Why wouldn’t he treat her specially? She was going to be his wife. The wife he was choosing for himself. The one he wanted most in all the world.

“I’ll try my hardest to fit in,” she went on in the same halting tone. “I hope I shall. But if I don’t—”

“You’ll fit.” He smoothed a damp lock of hair from her brow. “You’ll be mine.”

Her mouth trembled again.

He couldn’t resist. Leaning over her, he kissed her very softly on the lips. When he lifted his head, her blue eyes were smiling.

“I could almost imagine I was Sleeping Beauty,” she confided.

“Except that you’re not asleep,” he said. “You’re wide awake.”

“Naturally, I am. I don’t want to miss any of the good parts.”

His mouth ticked up at one corner. “In that case . . .” He released her hand and, standing from his chair, scooped her up in his arms, quilted coverlet and all.

“Gracious!” she gasped. “What on earth—?”

“Captain Blunt!” Mary whispered sharply. “Put her down this instant.”

“She’s not well, sir,” the footman said at the same time. “You mustn’t.”

Jasper ignored them. His gaze held Julia’s. “You told me you don’t feel safe here any longer.”

“I don’t.” Her arms circled his neck. “But that doesn’t explain what you’re doing.”

“Isn’t it obvious? I’m rescuing you.”

Sixteen

Julia pressed her face into Jasper’s shoulder. He was so strong—so solid and sure—holding her in his arms as effortlessly as if she were a piece of thistledown.

She was still bleary-headed from blood loss. Her eyelids were heavy, and she couldn’t focus as well as she otherwise might. Events seemed to unfold around her in a hazy romantic dream.