The Belle of Belgrave Square (Belles of London #2)(97)

She sighed. It was either wash with cold or summon Mr. Beecham or one of the children to fetch hot water for her from the kitchen. Given those choices, she’d rather shiver a little than make a nuisance of herself.

The sun streamed in through the patterned damask draperies as she filled the basin. A glint of something metallic twinkled at the corner of her eye. Returning the pitcher to its place, she turned to look, and was alarmed to see Jasper’s keys and pocket watch sitting on the chest of drawers by the window. In his haste to leave, he’d forgotten them. It wasn’t the first time he’d done so.

As if she needed more evidence of his eagerness to quit her presence!

But no. He wasn’t leaving her so abruptly because he found her company distasteful. It was the opposite. He’d admitted as much yesterday. He was finding her increasingly hard to resist.

Any other man might have simply broken his promise. Either that, or endeavored to persuade her to change her mind.

Jasper had done neither.

It was yet more evidence of his being a good and decent man. A man who was doing his utmost to adhere to the conditions she’d given him.

She finished washing and dressing, and after arranging her hair in an invisible net, she made her way downstairs to the dining room.

Charlie and Alfred were seated at the table with Mr. Beecham, their plates already heaped high with steaming eggs, toast, and sausages. Daisy was there as well, a bowl of porridge and cream in front of her.

Mr. Beecham stood as Julia entered, his linen napkin clutched in his hand. “Mrs. Blunt. Good morning.”

“Good morning, Mr. Beecham. Charlie, Alfred.” Julia smiled at Daisy. “You’re up early today, my dear.”

“I wanted to see father leave,” Daisy said.

“And did you?” Julia helped herself to a plate at the sideboard.

“No,” Daisy admitted glumly. “He was gone when I woke.”

“He’ll be back this evening.” Mr. Beecham resumed his seat. “Perhaps earlier if his business in York is resolved quickly.”

Julia spooned a serving of eggs onto her plate. “I confess, it will be quite strange without him here, even for a day. Though I expect we all have enough to keep us busy.”

“Quite right, ma’am.” Mr. Beecham spread his napkin back over his lap. “The boys and I have lessons to occupy us, don’t we, lads? And Miss Daisy will be joining us again today with her primer.”

It wasn’t uncommon for Daisy to do so. In lieu of a governess or nurse, she often attached herself to the boys’ lessons, reading along from her primer as they worked with Mr. Beecham on more difficult subjects.

“We shouldn’t have lessons this morning,” Charlie said.

Julia glanced back at him as she selected a sausage. “Why not?”

“We have a carriage now,” Charlie replied.

What seemed to be a non sequitur was at once explained by Alfred. “We should go into Hardholme. There’s sweets at Taggert’s Market.”

Daisy perked up immediately. “I want sweets!”

Returning to the table, Julia exchanged a look with Mr. Beecham. “Would Captain Blunt object to our driving into Hardholme?”

Mr. Beecham frowned. “I don’t rightly know, ma’am.”

“Does he often take the children into the village?” she asked, sitting down in her chair.

“Not regularly, no.”

“He didn’t need to take us,” Charlie said. “We boarded there during the school term.”

“You stayed at the school?” Julia reached for the teapot. “I didn’t realize.”

“Mr. Filbert takes on boarders from the outlying estates,” Mr. Beecham explained. “It was easier for the boys to stay on rather than have them traveling ten miles in the dogcart every day. Musket wouldn’t have tolerated it.”

“But we have a carriage now,” Charlie said again. “With two sound horses.”

Alfred nodded eagerly. “And a coachman. He can drive us.”

Julia’s brows knit with indecision. She hadn’t envisioned going into the village anytime soon. Certainly not without Jasper’s escort. The prospect of meeting strangers—of being stared at and whispered over—was enough to make her stomach tremble with anxiety.

But she wasn’t the same person she’d been in London.

She wasn’t Julia Wychwood anymore. She was Mrs. Julia Blunt. A different creature altogether.

Hadn’t that always been a dream of hers? To go to a new place and start afresh? To reinvent herself as someone new—someone confident? It had been an appealing fantasy.

Not so much in reality.

Even so . . .

“It may be nice to do a little shopping,” she conceded. “Is there a draper in Hardholme?”

“There’s a shop,” Mr. Beecham replied. “Orrick’s Emporium. It’s run by Mr. Orrick and his wife. They’ve silks and woolens, and a selection of gloves and ribbons and such like.”

“It’s Taggert’s that has sweets,” Alfred reiterated. “Peppermints kept in jars on the counter.”

“What about a tailor or dressmaker?” Julia asked.

Charlie’s expression darkened with suspicion. “What need have we of those?”

Julia cast a meaningful glance at his and Alfred’s clothing. Their little coats were too short at the sleeves and their trousers were too short at the ankles. Daisy was in no better trim. She’d stained or torn nearly every garment in her possession.