She was amazed at the steadiness of her own voice. “James Marshland truly did write all those books, didn’t he?”

“He did.”

“The Fire Opal and all the others I loved so much. All of them, right up until he died. Then you took over.”

Jasper’s gaze sharpened. Something flickered at the back of his frost-gray eyes, as if he understood a crucial fact he hadn’t before. It altered his demeanor. The color gradually returned to his face as he brought Quintus under sharp control.

“It’s why the style has changed,” she said. “You stole his name after the war. For money, I suppose.”

“Is that what you believe?”

“I can come to no other conclusion.”

Jasper was silent for a moment, as if calculating his response. “Would it be a crime?”

Julia’s lips curled in disgust. That he even had to ask! “To take advantage of a man who died serving under you? A man you treated abominably?”

“He was treated abominably,” Jasper said.

“By you,” Julia snapped back. “You’re the one who mistreated him. You said you regretted the past. That you were making amends for it. But you haven’t changed at all, have you? If you had, you’d never have stolen his work.”

“I’ve stolen nothing from him.”

“You’ve already confessed that you have. That the books were written by him. Now you’re passing them off as your own—and collecting his royalties, too! Have you no thought for his family?”

“Marshland had no family,” Jasper said. “He had no one on this earth.”

“Everybody has someone.”

“He didn’t. As for his royalties . . . there’s little enough to speak of. Hardly worth the grand deception you’re accusing me of.”

“It is a deception.”

“If it is, it harms no one.”

Julia could no longer keep her countenance. “It harms me! Can’t you see that? I’m the one you’ve deceived.” She trembled with hurt and anger. “What else have you lied to me about?”

Jasper didn’t answer. He only looked at her, his brows drawn in a brooding frown.

She averted her face, very much afraid there were tears in her eyes. “That’s how it is, then? I must wait for the truth to be revealed to me as it comes? Never knowing what evil surprise might lurk around the next corner and the next?”

Jasper moved Quintus closer to Cossack. “Julia—”

“Another mistress, perhaps? More children? Some additional cruelty you perpetrated against a soldier who couldn’t defend himself?”

“Good God. Is that what you’re afraid of? I don’t have any other mistresses or children. And I was never—” He broke off with a muttered oath. “Damnation, Julia, don’t make me have this conversation with you. You won’t like how it ends.”

Julia continued to stare out over the moors, refusing to look at him. Her throat was tight. She dashed her gloved hand over her cheek, brushing away a rogue tear.

Jasper made a husky sound of anguish. “Please don’t cry.”

She hardened her heart. She had to protect herself from being hurt.