Page 97 of The Belle of Belgrave Square

Jasper’s frown deepened. “They did up until three months ago. The schoolmaster’s recently asked that they not return.”

“I’ll fetch the hot water,” Beecham said, ducking out of the room.

Julia hardly noticed his departure. She continued to look at Jasper, brows lifted in question. “Why? Did something happen?”

Jasper heaved a sigh. Moving from the fireplace, he came to sit beside her. “I’d hoped we would have a few hours reprieve before having to deal with all this misery. I might have known that was too much to ask.”

“We needn’t talk about it now if you don’t wish to.”

“I don’t wish to,” he said. “But you’re bound to hear of it eventually—among other misdeeds. The boys have a penchant for getting into trouble, and the schoolmaster, Mr. Filbert, is something of a martinet. At the beginning of last term, Charlie painted a layer of glue on the man’s chair.”

“Oh no,” Julia said.

“Oh yes. And that’s not the worst of it. Filbert sat down unaware during a long lesson. When at last he stood, the seat of his trousers ripped off.”

She pressed her lips together hard to keep herself from laughing. A choked noise emerged nonetheless.

“Don’t.” Jasper’s eyes briefly reflected her merriment. “We cannot be amused by this sort of behavior.”

“No, indeed,” she said soberly.

The humor in Jasper’s expression faded. “It’s bad enough that Charlie should greet you as he did.” He ran a hand over his hair. “Good God. I could box his ears.”

“Should you go and find him?” she asked.

“I will, once he’s cooled off.”

“He seemed dreadfully upset.”

“No more than usual.”

“He must be very angry about you marrying me.”

“It has nothing to do with you,” Jasper said. “It’s about me. I warned you about the past casting long shadows.”

Julia waited for him to elaborate, to explain what events from the past had made Charlie so angry at him, but Jasper didn’t offer anything more. “Another secret you’d like to have a reprieve from?”

His mouth hitched in a wry smile. “Something like that.”

“I can wait,” she said. “After all, we have the whole of our lives.”

His gaze lingered on her face. “We do, don’t we?” Lifting his hand, he stroked his knuckles along the edge of her jaw. It was an infinitely gentle caress. Almost as gentle as the words that followed. “How are you, sweetheart?” he asked. “If you’re feeling weary, you must tell me so.”

She was disarmed by his touch, just as she always was. “I am weary,” she admitted. The hours-long carriage ride from Malton had been arduous, and she was still weak after her bloodletting.

“Would you like to retire to bed?”

“At this time of the morning? No, no,” she said. “A cup of tea and some cake will soon put me right.”

“I know something else that might do so.” His eyes glimmered with a flash of devilry. “Shall I wait to share it with you until after you’ve eaten something?”

Her interest was instantly piqued. “On no account,” she said. “What is it? Tell me.”

“It isn’t something for me to tell you. It’s something for me to show you.” He stood and offered his hand.

She took it, permitting him to assist her to her feet. She’d never seen him look so pleased with himself. It lent a boyishness to his stern features. A trace of vulnerability that fairly stole her heart away.

Weary or no, in that moment, she believed she’d follow him to the ends of the earth.