“I did,” Julia said. “We’re going to speak candidly, and I’d rather the conversation not be had in darkness.”

“We’re going to speak candidly?” Mama echoed. “What about, pray?” She sank onto the settee. “Coming here and making demands, as if you were in any position to do so. Were I stronger, I’d slap your face for such impertinence.”

Papa sat down in a chair, drawing a blanket over his knees. “Your poor dear mama would be within her rights to chastise you. No one would dare stop her.”

“I would stop her,” Julia said quietly.

“You what?” Papa looked up with a start. “What did she say?”

“She says she would stop me.” Mama’s eyes kindled. “You’ve no right to put on airs, my girl. You’ve shamed us, and made Lord Gresham a laughingstock. He’s turned his attentions to Bingham’s daughter—the silly little chit. She’ll be his countess now. And you, wed to an ex-soldier of dubious fame, with no money or connections to recommend him. An alliance doomed from the start. I could have told you it wouldn’t last. Count yourself lucky we’re willing to have you back.”

Julia sat down, facing her parents. “You’ve mistaken me,” she said. “I haven’t come back.”

Papa chuckled. “I expect Captain Blunt will have something to say about that. He knows my terms. He won’t get a penny if he doesn’t relinquish you to us.”

“My husband has no intention of relinquishing me. Not ever.” Julia felt the truth of it to her marrow. Jasper would never let her go. He’d scarcely been willing to allow her to leave Yorkshire with Anne. Only his guilt had kept him from forbidding her departure.

“We’ll see about that,” Papa said. “With your money tangled up for years on end, he’ll soon—”

“He has no interest in my fortune. You must know that. You told him he wouldn’t get a farthing. Yet still he married me.” Julia managed a smile. “We’re doing very well together, by the way. The air in Yorkshire is exceedingly fresh. I’ve been riding and walking and have even gone swimming.”

“Foolish child,” Mama said. “Dr. Cordingley warned you about exerting yourself.”

“There’s nothing wrong with me,” Julia said. “Except that I’ve been miserable for more years than I can count.”

“Bah,” Papa said. “You don’t know misery. If you’d suffered what I suffer—”

“I’m sorry for your suffering, Papa,” Julia said. “And for yours, Mama. But I have suffered, too.”

Mama sniffed. “You have been spoiled.”

“Yes. You did much for me in terms of material comfort. I’m very grateful for it. But a girl requires more than expensive things. She needs love and acceptance. She needs to know she has value.” Julia forced herself to continue, though her parents blustered with outrage. “I never felt as though I had your love. And you reminded me often enough that I had no value except to look after you both in your infirmity.”

Her father shook his head in denial. “You’re our daughter. You have a duty—”