Page 86 of The Belle of Belgrave Square

Indeed, it took him an abominable length of time. His large hands kept fumbling over the delicate little closures. He was distracted by the lushly feminine shape of her. By the way every unfastened hook spread the two violet-dyed halves of her bodice open a little further, revealing another glimpse of the voluptuous swell of her bosom, confined behind a lace-trimmed cambric chemise and matching corset cover.

By the time he finally finished, he was perspiring.

Good God. There was torture and there was torture.

He nevertheless soldiered on, slipping her bodice from her shoulders and tugging her sleeves down over her arms. It was then he saw them—the twin bandages wound tight around her forearms.

A rush of concern swept through him like wildfire, burning away every other emotion. It was accompanied by something very like rage.

She tucked her arms behind her back. “It isn’t as bad as it looks.”

“Let me see.” Jasper held out his hand. He was relieved when she took it, however reluctantly. “I won’t hurt you.”

“I know that.” She permitted him to draw her right arm out to inspect it. “But you needn’t fuss over me. I’d really rather you didn’t.”

“Naturally, I’m going to fuss over you. You’re my wife.” He examined her bandages. “What did the villain use? A lancet?”

“A scarificator.”

Jasper made a soft sound of disgust as he took her left arm. It was bandaged even more heavily than her right. He glanced up at her in question.

“It wouldn’t stop bleeding,” she said.

He clenched his jaw, so angry on her behalf he could scarcely get the words out without snarling them. “Where were your parents?”

“They’d gone to their rooms by then. It was only Mary and me. And Dr. Cordingley.”

Jasper couldn’t understand how her mother and father could have allowed her to be subjected to such an outrage. “You must have been very ill for them to summon the man.”

“I wasn’t ill,” Julia said quietly. It was the same thing she’d said in her bedroom at Belgrave Square.

He gave her a sharp look. “What?”

“I wasn’t ill. I only needed some time alone, by myself, with my books. The only way I’m permitted any privacy is if I’m in poor health. So . . . I said that I was. That’s why Dr. Cordingley was summoned.”

Understanding sank in. Jasper didn’t know if he should be amused or appalled. “You’ve done this before.”

“Sometimes.” Her color heightened. “Often,” she amended. “It isn’t as bad as it sounds.”

“You let him bleed you so you could stay in bed reading a novel?”

“You make it sound quite unreasonable.”

“Julia—” He broke off. “My God.”

She tugged her hand from his grasp. “And I don’t let Dr. Cordingley do anything. I never ask for him to come. My parents are the ones who summon him. It’s the price I must pay to be left alone. In the past, it’s seemed to be worth it.”

“Not today, obviously.”

“No. Not today.”

Jasper was poised to say more on the subject, but Julia was in no state to hear it. Her face, in the firelight, was as bloodless and pale as it had been when he’d called on her in Belgrave Square.

He came to an instant decision.

Sweeping her up in his arms, he carried her to the bed. She opened her mouth to object, but he silenced her with a look as he set her down on the edge of the mattress. “I should have known this would be too fatiguing for you. Had I been thinking clearly when we arrived, I’d have ordered you straight to bed.”

“Ordered me,” she scoffed. “Really, Jasper.”