The Belle of Belgrave Square (Belles of London #2)(117)

But not now.

Now it felt like an indictment.

“In spirit, perhaps,” he said, “but not in law.”

She shook her head. “Our marriage can’t be legal.”

“It is. I made certain of that.”

“How?”

He hesitated to explain, aware of how cold-blooded it would make him sound. “I made confidential inquiries before we married.”

She gave him a sharp look. “Inquiries of whom?”

He was quiet for a moment before admitting, “I consulted with Mr. Finchley the day he came to Ridgeway’s house.”

Her bosom rose and fell on an unsteady breath. “He knew the truth, then.”

“Not entirely. I presented the issue to him as a hypothetical. He knew only enough to render counsel.”

“What did he say?”

“He said, if the marriage was by license, it didn’t matter if a man used a false name. So long as his bride, the vicar, and the witnesses had no knowledge of his true identity—so long as they all acted in good faith—the marriage would be legal.”

She didn’t appear reassured by the information. “We didn’t only marry in law. We married in a church. We made each other promises—vows before God.”

“I meant everything I promised you,” he said. “None of that was a lie.”

“It was built on a lie. Our entire life here is. Yours, mine, and the children’s—”

“Would you have me tell them the truth? To salve my conscience at their expense? What purpose could it possibly serve except to make them doubt their place in the world? To make them live in fear of one day having all this taken away?”

Her eyes shimmered with tears. “You should have told me.”

He leaned into her, aching to banish the injured look from her face. His voice sank with a desperate sincerity. “I wanted to. So many times.”

The urge had struck him on the train from London, and then again in the tower when she’d discovered his manuscript. It had been there the first time he’d made love to her, and every night since as he’d held her in his arms.

But he wouldn’t unload his burdens onto her shoulders. He knew too well the cost of carrying them. The nagging guilt that had plagued him in those early days. The nights spent wrestling with his conscience, wondering if there could, indeed, be virtue in living a lie.

He’d long ago come to terms with the necessity of it.

The truth was all well and good from a moral standpoint. A noble conceit, to be sure. But there were things in life that were far nobler. There was duty and self-sacrifice.

There was love.

“Then why didn’t you?” she asked. “Did you fear I wouldn’t keep your secret?”

“It’s not about keeping the secret. It’s about bearing it. Besides,” he added, “it wasn’t my secret to tell. It still isn’t. The risk to the children is too great. And the children must come first. They’re depending on me. If I fail them . . .” He shook his head, refusing to countenance the possibility. “I can’t. I won’t. Not if I must play the part of Captain Blunt for the remainder of my life.”

“Where do I fit into this charade?” she asked. “We’ve already established I’m a secondary concern.”

His brows lowered. “That isn’t what I meant and you know it. They come first because they’re children. My children. It doesn’t matter who their parents were. Family isn’t solely determined by blood. And we are a family. All of us—you included. I know you care for them, too. I’ve seen it for myself.”

“I do care for them. I can even understand why—” Her words were lost on a stifled sob as her composure finally cracked. Tears spilled down her cheeks. She rose from the stone, swiping at her face as she moved to walk away from him. “You may think me selfish, but just once, I want to come first in someone’s heart. I want to be important enough—”

Standing to block her way, Jasper caught her by the arms, forcing her to face him. “You’re first in my heart. In mine, Julia. James Marshland. You’re the only person on this earth who’s truly mine.”

She bowed her head, weeping. “James Marshland is dead.”

Or at least, that’s what it sounded like she said. She was weeping too heavily for him to fully understand her.

His hands tightened on her arms. “Look at me.” He stared down at her, willing her to see him for who he really was. “You told me once that when you looked into my eyes you saw a different man. A better man. That’s who I am. Not Blunt, but me. I’ve been here all along.”

“Please let me go.”

“I won’t ever let you go.” Pulling her hard against him, Jasper covered her mouth with his.

Julia struggled with him for a moment before succumbing to his kiss. It wasn’t a wholehearted capitulation. She still strained to be free of him. Only her lips softened, yielding briefly beneath his in unwilling surrender.

She was damp and salty with tears, her tremulous breath mingling with his on a gasping sob.

He kissed her fiercely, desperately, so afraid of losing her that his own eyes smarted with the sting of it. “I love you,” he rasped against her mouth. “I love you. That’s the truth. The only truth that matters.”