“I realize you aren’t ready,” he said. “How can you be, given what you’ve learned of my past? But I want you to know, despite your reticence . . .” He smoothed a damp strand of hair back from her face. “You have my hear t, utterly.”

If she hadn’t already been aglow from his lovemaking, his words would have made her so. “Did I seem reticent?”

“No, you didn’t. But physical passion is easy. Love is something else altogether.”

“‘An ever-fixed mark that looks on tempests and is never shaken,’” she quoted to him from one of her favorite of Shakespeare’s sonnets. “Yes, I know what love is.”

“From personal experience?” He asked the question casually. Too casually.

“No, indeed. I’ve never been in love before. I’ve only ever imagined it.”

“What did you imagine?”

“Little things. Flowers and chocolates. A gentleman sending me a Valentine or writing me a poem.”

“A poem.”

“You don’t like poetry?”

“Enough to know I shouldn’t be writing it myself.”

Julia smiled as she settled back into his arms. He gathered her close, resting his chin on her head.

In that moment, she could easily believe herself in love with him.

She was tempted to tell him so, not only for her own sake, but for his. She didn’t like him to think he was unworthy, or that she was punishing him for his past.

But she didn’t tell him.

The truth was, she didn’t know what she felt.

Lying with him this way, twined in his arms, her emotions were as tangled as their limbs.

And worse.

She couldn’t help but think that he’d lain this way before, with Dolly Carvel. And not only once, but many, many times.

A depressing recollection. It threatened to eat away at the edges of Julia’s happiness. She refused to let it. No matter Jasper’s past, in this moment, he belonged to her.

Julia awoke sometime later to the mattress creaking as Jasper climbed out of bed. When he didn’t return, she sat up, pushing her hair from her eyes. The room was cold and dark, raising gooseflesh on her naked skin.

Good gracious. She wasn’t wearing a nightgown.

A rush of self-consciousness had her pulling the coverlet over her bosom. “What time is it?”

“Nearly midnight.” Jasper stood from lighting the fire. The flames caught quickly, illuminating him in the darkness. He was in his dressing gown, his black hair disheveled. “This room gets a fearful draft when the weather turns. I didn’t wish you to be cold.”

“I wouldn’t be cold if you hadn’t got up,” she said. “Come back to bed.”

“In a moment.” He crossed the room to where his coat was draped over the back of a chair. Reaching into an interior pocket, he withdrew a thickly stuffed envelope. “In all the excitement of the evening, I completely forgot. I have a letter for you.”

“From the solicitor?”

He returned to their bed. “From Lady Anne.”