The Belle of Belgrave Square (Belles of London #2)(99)

It was only then she realized they’d garnered an audience of gawking villagers. The woman with her bag of shopping stood staring on the side of the street, now in company with another woman. A shopkeeper had emerged from his store to join them. Up ahead, a man in a suit was standing outside the door of Orrick’s Emporium. Another shopkeeper. Perhaps Mr. Orrick himself.

Julia’s stomach sank. She hadn’t intended to make a spectacle of herself on her first visit into the village. On the contrary, she’d hoped to make a good impression.

The man in front of the Emporium regarded her warily.

She stiffened her spine. “Mr. Orrick, I presume?”

He bowed. “Mrs. Blunt.”

Steeling herself, Julia affected the same lofty tones she might use in a Mayfair drawing room. “I trust the service at your Emporium is more in line with what I’m accustomed to in London.”

“London!” one of the bystanders echoed in an awed undertone.

Mr. Orrick bowed again, even lower than before. “I endeavor to please, ma’am.” And stepping back, he held open the door so she and the children could enter his shop.



* * *





?Several hours later, Julia and the children arrived back at the Hall, their arms filled with more boxes than they could carry. The boys were still in high spirits over how Julia had routed their tormentor. Even Daisy was beaming, awash with pleasure at the colorful fabrics, ribbons, and dainty little parasol Julia had purchased for her.

“Where do I put these?” Charlie asked, using his chin to steady the stack of boxes he was carrying.

“You may take them upstairs,” Julia said to the boys as she followed them into the entrance hall. She removed her hat and gloves. “Put them in my bedchamber for now. I’ll sort through them after we’ve had our tea.”

Alfred traipsed up the stairs after his brother, struggling to contain two hatboxes and a chin-high stack of fabrics wrapped in paper and twine.

Mr. Beecham passed the boys on the staircase as he was descending. “Upon my word. Did you buy out the whole of the Emporium?”

“Hardly,” Julia said. “But the children have all got new undergarments, stockings, and gloves, and we selected a great deal of fabric for their new clothes. All that remains is to find a good tailor and dressmaker.” Julia removed Daisy’s bonnet for her before ushering her into the drawing room. “We’re exhausted, aren’t we, Daisy?”

Daisy gave Mr. Beecham a broad smile, revealing her missing baby teeth. “I have a new parasol and a new nightgown. And Julia bought me a new hairbrush, too.”

“Did she, now? That was grand of her.” Mr. Beecham opened the drawing room drapes. “You’ll be wanting your tea.”

Julia sat down on the sofa. “If it isn’t too much trouble.”

“Not at all, ma’am.” Mr. Beecham departed. He returned shortly with the tea tray. There was bread and jam, along with savory rolls.

Alfred joined them a quarter of an hour later, a guilty expression on his face. He plumped down in a chair next to Mr. Beecham as Julia poured his tea.

“Where’s Charlie?” she asked.

Alfred took the teacup, avoiding her gaze. “Upstairs.”

“He’s not attempting to put things away, is he?”

Alfred shrugged. “I don’t know.”

Julia frowned. She knew Charlie was famished. He’d complained enough about it on the journey back from Hardholme. She couldn’t imagine him delaying his tea in order to unpack their purchases. “I hope he isn’t,” she said. “He wouldn’t like his tea to get cold.”

When another quarter of an hour passed and Charlie still hadn’t joined them, Julia began to have an uneasy feeling. Returning her teacup to the tray, she rose from her seat. “I’ll just go up and see what’s keeping him.”

Alfred’s anxious gaze followed her as she exited the drawing room. It did nothing to quell Julia’s suspicions.

Climbing the stairs to her bedchamber, she couldn’t help feeling disappointed. After their trip into the village, she’d thought the boys had begun to accept her. But perhaps it was still too soon for that.

Reaching her room, she found the door ajar. All the boxes from their shopping were heaped rather untidily on the bed.

“Charlie?” Julia called out as she entered.

There was no answer.

Her gaze swept over the room. A glimmer caught her eye, just as it had this morning—the sun shining through the windows to twinkle on Jasper’s pocket watch. She gave it a distracted glance.

And then she froze.

The pocket watch was still lying on the brass-cornered chest of drawers. Except now it was alone.

Jasper’s keys were gone.





Twenty-Nine





Julia raced up the spiral stone staircase that led to Jasper’s study, her skirts clutched in her hands lest she trip over her hem. The location was unfamiliar to her. Despite her curiosity, she’d never before climbed the stairs to the tower. She hadn’t dared defy the condition Jasper had made on their marriage.

“The door of my study on the fourth floor of the Hall remains locked at all times. You’re never to enter it.”

Images of Bluebeard’s castle danced across her mind as she reached the door at the top of the stairs. Like the door to her bedchamber, it stood open. Her pulse skittered wildly as she crossed the threshold, expecting she knew not what.