“A shame.” He smoothed a stray lock of hair from her face, tucking it back into the crepe-lined interior of her fashionable straw bonnet. “We shall have to postpone our kisses until this evening.”

Her cheeks turned pink. “I meant to ask you about that.”

He put his arm around her, drawing her close. “About kissing each other?”

“No. Not that exactly.” She snuggled against his side. “I was wondering if we’re going to share a bedchamber?”

The question ignited his already smoldering blood. It took an effort to answer with any degree of equanimity. “Ah.” He affected to consider the matter. “Would you like to share a room with me?”

She didn’t hesitate. “Yes.”

“Most ladies would rather have their privacy.”

“I do enjoy my privacy. And I hope I shall have plenty of it. But at night . . .” She slid an arm around his midsection. “I slept so soundly with you next to me, dearest.”

Dearest.

His heart clenched hard.

Julia continued on, oblivious to the havoc she was wreaking in his breast. “More soundly than I ever have. I can’t think why, except that you make me feel so safe. Rather like a lamb in company with a very large sheepdog.”

He choked on a hoarse laugh. “Good God.”

“I didn’t know it was possible to ever feel that way. I shouldn’t like to give the feeling up, not so soon after I’ve found it.”

“Very well,” he said. “If that’s what you want.”

“You don’t mind it?”

To sleep with her every night and not to have her? He minded it like the devil. But at the moment, he had the besotted notion that he’d give her anything she desired. Anything—even his very life, if she asked for it. Even all his secrets, though it may destroy him in the process.

“I don’t mind,” he said. “I want it, too.”

An hour later, amid a pounding rain that fell sideways as much as downward, they passed Hardholme. Another five miles, jolted in the carriage as the wheels rolled over the deserted scrap of uneven road that cut through the North York Moors, and the tall iron gates of Goldfinch Hall appeared in the distance.

Jasper drew back the curtain for his wife to see. “There. Is that gothic enough for your romantic sensibilities?”

Julia leaned across him to get a better look, bracing one hand on his thigh. “Gracious. How sinister they look! And they’re standing open, too.” She glanced back at him. “Do you suppose that means Mr. Beecham and the children are waiting for us at the house?”

“Possibly.” Or it might mean that the last person to go through them had failed to shut them. The Hall housed a veritable collection of savages—Daisy among them. For all Jasper knew, the gates had been standing open for the entirety of his absence.

She sat back in her seat. Her face was anxious. “I wish I’d had time to buy gifts for the children.”