The Belle of Belgrave Square (Belles of London #2)(79)

It would be up to her to bridge the gap. Jasper was too decent a man to force the issue.

Decent. Honorable. Heroic.

Nothing like the Captain Blunt of six years ago.

Could war really change a person to that degree? Could it truly turn a man from a villain into a hero?

She wanted to believe it.

She had to believe it.





Twenty-Four





Jasper spent the next several hours going over the accounts with Beecham. A depressing activity at the best of times. It wasn’t how he’d envisioned spending his first day home. He’d thought he would pass the time in Julia’s company. But it wasn’t to be. Not now she knew the truth about Dolly and the children.

It wasn’t the whole truth, naturally, but enough of it to paint Jasper in a thoroughly despicable light. He wasn’t only a whoremonger who had sired three children on his mistress; he was a villain who had left those children to starve. An unconscionable monster who, through his base neglect, had allowed them to be relegated to the workhouse.

They were unpardonable crimes. Jasper had known Julia would eventually hear of them. With the children in residence, it was inevitable. What he hadn’t expected was that he’d be constrained, on the very day of their arrival, to lay the sordid details out for her himself.

No matter how long he lived, he’d never forget the expression of horrified disappointment on her face. As if every romantic daydream she’d cherished about him had been crushed underfoot, replaced by something akin to disgust.

Jasper felt sick to recall it.

And what of how she’d shrunk from him when he’d offered to help her undress? As though she couldn’t bear the thought of him touching her?

Her reaction had reduced him to formality. Good God, he’d actually bowed to her before taking his leave. A stiff, militaristic gesture, at odds with the intimacy that had been building between them.

Is this how it was to be from now on? A coldly polite marital relationship absent any semblance of affection?

She was in their bedchamber now, presumably asleep. He didn’t begrudge her the rest. If not for his reluctance to play the overbearing husband, he’d have insisted upon it. After her ordeal, she needed as much rest as she could get.

And he needed to focus.

Closeted in the steward’s office with Beecham, the unrelenting rain beating against the window, Jasper managed to draft a timeline for implementing the first of the major repairs. He intended to discuss his plans with Julia, but not today. Not tomorrow, either.

It was going to take time and patience to earn back her trust. The same patience he’d been obliged to exercise with the boys. He was becoming a master at it.

At half four, Beecham withdrew to begin preparations for dinner. Jasper remained in the steward’s office, finishing a letter to his solicitor in York. He was writing out Piggott’s direction on the envelope when Daisy poked her head into the room. She was garbed in a pinafore, her black hair arranged in a single frazzled plait.

Setting down his pen, Jasper turned in his chair. “Come here.”

Daisy crossed the small room to stand in front of him—a penitent position she’d taken dozens of times before.

He regarded her with a frown. “You’ve been making mischief, I hear.”

“I haven’t.”

“Hiding in the wardrobe instead of coming to greet your new stepmother in a civilized manner?”

“I haven’t,” she protested again. “I only wanted to show her mother’s grave.”

Only. As if it were a matter of no consequence.

“Did you not think that might upset her?”

“It didn’t upset her. She wants to see it. She said she’ll come with me when the rain stops.”

Jasper inwardly grimaced. He didn’t like to think of Julia visiting Dolly’s grave. And she would visit it, he knew. She’d do anything to endear herself to the children.

“What else did you tell her?” he asked.

“Only that mother was beautiful. And that she had golden hair. And that you loved her better than anyone.”

Jasper sighed. “Daisy . . . What am I to do with you?”

“But it’s true, isn’t it?” Her brow puckered. “You loved mother best.”

“We don’t need to love anyone better than anyone else,” Jasper said. “Love is big enough to encompass everyone.”

It was something his father had used to say from the pulpit. A hypocritical statement, given the man’s treatment of his own family, but a statement that had stuck with Jasper, nonetheless.

“That includes your new stepmother,” he added.

Daisy’s expression turned sullen. “She’s very pretty.” It might almost have been an accusation.

“She’s kind,” Jasper replied. “Kindness is more important than prettiness.” He smoothed his hand over Daisy’s hair, giving an affectionate tug to her plait. “Much more important.”

“Is that why you married her?”

“It is,” he said. “When I went to London, I was determined to find the kindest, sweetest lady in all the world. And when I found her, I married her straightaway and brought her here to you.”

“She isn’t my mother.”

“No. But she’ll be a friend to you. And she’ll care for you very much if you let her. I believe she was made to care for people like you and me.”