If he ever earned anything again.

After this morning’s work, he had plenty of cause to doubt his abilities.

“I shall simply have to learn how to look after my clothes myself,” Julia said. “Not only how to press them, but how to treat the stains. It’s that which may prove difficult.”

The solution was obvious. “You require a new maid.”

“Perhaps a housekeeper-cook might suffice?” she suggested. “And a parlor maid to assist her with the housework?”

“You’ve been giving it some thought, I see.” He wasn’t surprised. There were only so many days a baronet’s daughter could spend at the Hall without feeling the profound lack of staff. It impacted everything from their meals to the delivery of the water she’d been washing with this morning.

“I have,” she said. “Surely, we can afford it now?”

“It’s not only a matter of money. The servants you have in mind would first have to be persuaded to work here. That’s not as easy as you might think, given the house’s reputation—and my own.”

“It’s not impossible, either. Not now you’re respectably married.”

“Speaking of my recent marriage . . .” He came closer, his large frame looming over her small one. He was conscious of her every change in breath. “How have you been occupying yourself today?”

“I finished The Hero’s Return,” she said.

“Ah. And your verdict?”

“It wasn’t as adventurous as I’d have liked. But it was rich with sympathetic characters, and really quite romantic.” A pensive frown touched her lips. “There was only one part that troubled me.”

Jasper was instantly alert. “Which part?”

“The part where Colonel Fulham’s body was loaded into a cart with other wounded men.”

“What about it?”

“I wonder how he could have been mistaken for a common soldier.”

The answer was obvious enough to Jasper. “He was grievously injured, and all was in chaos. Without his horse or his coat—”

“I’m still not certain it’s believable. Not when you consider his rank.”

“Believable or not, it’s based in fact,” he said. “Many mistakes are made in the aftermath of a battle.”

Julia frowned. “Is that how it was after the fall of Sebastopol?”

“It was worse. You could scarcely tell us apart. We all had enormous beards.”

Her mouth tilted up at one corner. “You as well?”

“Everyone, to a man.” He gave her an amused look. “Did you never see any of the soldiers returning home?”

“A few,” she said. “Their whiskers were substantial, but I didn’t know it was a feature of the breed. I thought it merely a personal preference.”

“It was a necessity. Crimean winters are cold as the devil. And shaving soap was difficult to come by. ‘Let nature be your valet.’ That’s what one of my superior officers used to say. We all of us were glad to do so. Facial hair keeps a man warm.”

She examined his countenance. “I can’t imagine you with a beard.”

His blood warmed under her regard. “I don’t much like having one.”