The Belle of Belgrave Square (Belles of London #2)(14)

Her words were met with silence.

Awkward silence.

She felt a rush of self-consciousness. Some gentlemen didn’t approve of romances. But Captain Blunt wasn’t one of them, surely. After speaking with him at last night’s musicale, she’d been left with the impression he had some interest in the genre.

Looking at him now, it was hard to believe it. He appeared so fierce and formidable. A gentleman impervious to finer feeling. A man with ice in his veins.

It must be nice not to feel things. Not to stammer and blush in the presence of the opposite sex. She couldn’t imagine Captain Blunt blushing over anything. He seemed invulnerable.

She wished she could say the same about herself.

Mere proximity to him was enough to set her stomach fluttering. To make her insides quiver and quake.

She had felt just the same when he’d approached her at Lady Arundell’s ball. At the time, she’d mistaken the sensation for fear.

But it wasn’t fear. She realized that now, much to her chagrin. It was something else. Something worse.

It was attraction.

Despite all she knew of him—despite the warnings of her friends, and of her own mind and conscience—her body was disposed to like the man.

More than like.

She wondered if he felt it, too; this low thrum of physical awareness. It was impossible to tell. His scarred face was wiped clean of expression.

“You must be shopping for a new book yourself,” she observed for lack of anything better to say. The stupidity of the remark struck her the instant she uttered it. “But of course you are. Why else would you be here?”

“Why indeed?”

The clerk eyed them with thinly concealed interest as he finished wrapping her books in brown paper.

Mary eyed them, too, her broad face etched with disapproval. No doubt Julia would get an earful when they returned to the carriage

“Any book in particular?” she asked.

Captain Blunt hesitated a fraction of a second before answering. “A new adventure story for my eldest boy.”

Understanding came over her. Embarrassment swiftly followed. He was talking about his child. His illegitimate child. One of the many he housed at his estate.

Julia supposed she should be offended. A gentleman wouldn’t speak of such things in the presence of a lady.

But she wasn’t offended.

Her foremost feeling was one of curiosity. “Your son enjoys adventure novels?”

“He does.”

She waited for him to elaborate. When he didn’t, her curiosity outweighed her discretion. “How old is he?”

For the first time since she’d met him, Captain Blunt seemed uncomfortable. “He’s, er, twelve.”

“Your purchases, miss.” The clerk pushed Julia’s wrapped books across the counter to her. “Will there be anything else today?”

“Thank you, no. That will be all.” She collected her package, conscious of Captain Blunt’s regard. She gave him a look of apology. “Forgive my curiosity.”

“Forgive my indelicacy,” he replied.

Something about the gravity of his manner warmed her to her soul.

She knew she was reading too much into it. That she was allowing this strange attraction for him to overpower her reason. He wasn’t kind. He wasn’t handsome.

He certainly wasn’t a hero.

Anne would never forgive her for entertaining such thoughts. She’d say that, faced with the canvas of the captain’s complete lack of emotion, Julia was painting him with the broad brush of her own sentimentality. That she was imagining him into someone he was not.

But Anne wasn’t here. And really, what harm was a secret attraction? So long as Julia never spoke of it. Never acted on it.

“You’re forgiven.” Hugging her books to her bosom, she moved to leave. “Good day, sir.”

He bowed to her. “Good day, Miss Wychwood.”

Julia exited the shop with her maid, keenly aware that Captain Blunt was still at the counter, looking after her. It was only as the shop door swung shut behind her that she heard him address the clerk.

“Get me Bloxham,” he commanded gruffly. “At once.”





Five





Jasper folded the bank draft for fifty pounds in with his letter to Mr. Beecham before sealing the envelope. He was writing out the direction when a rap sounded at the door.

“Come,” he said.

Ridgeway strolled in, already dressed for their evening engagement. “Attending to your correspondence?”

“Estate matters.”

“At this hour? How dreary.”

“Indeed.” Jasper sat back in his chair. He was still in his shirtsleeves, his black evening coat draped over a chair near the bed.

It hadn’t been easy getting the money for the roof repairs. He didn’t dare send it directly to Charlie. The boy was too sullen and secretive for his own good. God only knew what he’d do with the money. There was as much chance he’d use it to spirit his two siblings away as there was that he’d pay someone to patch the hall’s roof.

From the moment Jasper had appeared at the grim workhouse in York where Dolly had surrendered her two sons, Charlie had viewed him with suspicion.

The condition of Goldfinch Hall had done nothing to alter his opinion.