Indeed, it could ruin everything.

He’d known that from the beginning. It was the reason he’d restricted his search for a wife to ladies whose relatives would ask no questions. Ridgeway had claimed the Wychwoods were such a family. Invalids anxious to marry off their wallflower daughter to any respectable gentleman who would have her.

But that wasn’t the case at all.

Nothing about Julia had been what it seemed, least of all her sickly parents, who—it transpired—wanted nothing more than to keep their daughter as close to them as possible, even at the sacrifice of her own happiness.

“Will it truly be so expensive?” she asked. “To have Mr. Piggott oppose my father’s attempts?”

“Piggott doesn’t stand a chance against Birchall, Crawley, and Micklethwait. We’d have to hire someone better. Someone more expensive.”

“What about Mr. Finchley? You told me he’d be your first choice if—”

“It isn’t an option,” Jasper said. “Not just because of the money. Because of the notoriety it would bring. I won’t subject the children to it. I’m sorry, but that must be my final word on the subject.”

Hurt flashed in her eyes. It took her a moment to rally. “Naturally, I don’t wish to expose the children to anything unpleasant, but . . . I have my rights. I can’t permit someone to take them away from me. Not my father.” She paused before adding, “And not you, either.”

Jasper’s jaw hardened. He rested his fist on the mantelpiece, hating himself for what he must do. “How do you propose to go about securing those rights?” he asked. “You haven’t the means to hire a solicitor of your own, and I’ve no intention of providing you with them.”

She stiffened in her chair. In the space of but a few words they’d gone from allies to combatants. “I shall start by writing to Hoares Bank again, and this time in the most severe terms.”

“Yes, that should solve things,” he said dryly. “A strongly worded letter.”

She continued, undeterred, “I shall write to my father as well. I can’t believe he’d stoop to causing a scandal. He deplores the very idea of gossip. Besides, he doesn’t need my fortune. If we relinquish it, there’s no guarantee he’ll alter his course.”

“No, there isn’t,” Jasper acknowledged. “But if the alternative is allowing his inquiry agents to rake up the past—”

A knock sounded on the library window, arresting his speech. Charlie was standing outside the glass, with Alfred and Daisy hovering behind him.

Jasper strode to the window and unlatched it. “What is it?”

“There’s someone coming up the drive,” Charlie said. “A great big coach-and-four.”

Julia stood, pressing a hand to her midriff as she came to join them. It was the only sign of how unsettled she was by their previous conversation. “Is it someone from the village? The vicar or—”

“It’s not the vicar,” Alfred said. “He drives a green gig.”

“And he never comes to call,” Charlie added.

Daisy wasn’t taking any chances. At the first mention of the village’s dour clergyman, she was off and running toward the trees at the bottom of the garden.