The boys whooped with laughter.

Julia broke the kiss almost immediately on a self-conscious laugh of her own. “I forgot we have an audience.”

Jasper didn’t seem to care. His gaze was riveted to hers. “What was that for?”

Her mouth curved in a faint smile. “I suppose I was reminding you.”

“Of what?”

“That you’re mine, of course.”

He gave a husky laugh. “I’m not likely to forget.” His fingers flexed at her waist. “But please, do remind me again whenever the mood takes you.”

“Is Father already in his study?” Alfred asked when Julia entered the dining room the next morning. He and Charlie were seated at the table eating their breakfast. A teapot and teacups were arrayed next to them, along with the jam pot and a half-empty rack of toast.

Julia crossed to the sideboard and retrieved a plate for herself. It was Mr. Beecham’s habit to set out the hot food in silver chafing dishes. There was no specific time the household was expected to breakfast, but if one waited too long, one was inevitably left with cold eggs and congealed porridge.

As a result, Julia had been acclimating herself to rising before half past eight, merely so she might enjoy the benefit of a hot meal. It was a vastly different experience than she’d had at Belgrave Square, where breakfast had been brought to her in bed each morning on a tray.

“I believe he is,” she said as she filled her plate. “He starts his work very early, doesn’t he?”

Indeed, she’d not seen her new husband even once in the morning since they’d arrived. He was always gone from their bed—and their room—when she awoke. In more vulnerable moments, she sometimes suspected he didn’t wish to prolong his time in her company.

“Work,” Charlie echoed with a snort. “If you can call it that.”

“What else?” Julia carried her plate to the table.

“He’s a forger,” Charlie said.

A forger?

Julia froze in the act of pulling out her chair. “Why on earth would you say that?”

“Because it’s true.” Charlie continued eating. “What else is he doing in the tower all day with the door locked? It must be something against the law.”

“It’s the truth,” Alfred agreed. “Everyone says so.”

Julia sat down. “Who?” she demanded.

“The boys at school,” Charlie said.

“And some of the people in the village,” Alfred added.

Julia felt a hot surge of anger at the villagers’ ignorance. She made an effort to contain her temper. “Your father isn’t a forger. And you shouldn’t listen to slanderous things other people say. Particularly when what they’re saying is about your own family.”

The boys clammed up, resuming their meal, but not before exchanging knowing looks with each other.

Later that morning, trudging along at Daisy’s side through the overgrown garden that lay at the back of the house, Julia reflected on the conversation with a distinct sense of unease.