“Shall I bring up the champagne?” Mr. Beecham asked. Julia had instructed him to keep a bottle iced and at the ready.

“Not yet,” Jasper said grimly. “There may be no need of it.”

“As you say, sir.” Mr. Beecham tactfully withdrew.

Julia fluttered around her husband as he rifled through the post. One of the envelopes was addressed in bold script to the care of Capt. J. Blunt. “Is that it?”

“It is.” Jasper stared at it for a moment before flipping through the remaining envelopes. “The rest are for you. Letters from Lady Anne, Miss Maltravers, and Miss Hobhouse.” He passed them to Julia. “One from your father as well.”

Julia took them, vowing to give them her full attention later. But not now. Now her mind was wholly fixed on Mr. Bloxham’s letter—and on the literary journal still in Jasper’s hands. “That must be my copy of the Weekly Heliosphere.”

Jasper surveyed it with a frown as he handed it to her. “I can’t think why you insist on subscribing to it. Bilgewater’s never had a kind word about any romantic novels, mine least of all.”

“Aren’t you at all curious?” she asked.

“I’m more interested in what Bloxham has to say.” Jasper tore open the letter from his publisher. “It’s this I’ve been waiting for, not the opinion of some reviewer.”

“I daresay you’re right.” Julia flipped through the journal, scanning for Mr. Bilgewater’s column. “As for myself, I own to an insatiable curiosity. After everything he said about The Garden of Valor—”

“He’s a fool,” Jasper remarked as he read his letter. “An anonymous fool. Had he the power of his literary convictions, he’d use his real name.”

“Perhaps Bilgewater is his real name.”

“I doubt it. Water-related pseudonyms are popular at the moment. There’s one in every . . .” he trailed off. “Good Lord.”

Julia glanced up sharply. Her husband’s countenance, formerly taut with apprehension, had transformed into an expression of amazement. “What is it?” she asked anxiously. “What does he say?”

A smile spread over Jasper’s face—first touching his scarred mouth and then reaching all the way to his eyes. He looked at Julia with a lopsided grin. “You’ll never credit it. Reunion at Waterloo has sold out its first printing.”

“What?” Julia surged toward him.

“Here. See for yourself.” He gave her Bloxham’s letter.

She read it swiftly, her heart racing with excitement.

“It’s a success,” Jasper said. “If sales continue as they have been, Bloxham predicts they may eventually surpass those of The Fire Opal.”

“The reading public is clamoring for more stories in this vein,” Julia read aloud. “I trust you haven’t exhausted your supply of them.” Her own smile grew to mirror Jasper’s. “Oh, my love. You did it.” She flung her arms around his neck, Bloxham’s letter crumpling in her hand. “I knew you would.”

Jasper held her tightly. “We did it.” He pressed a fierce kiss to her temple. “You and I together.”

“Yes, well . . .” Julia drew back to look in his eyes. “I must concede we make an exceptional team.” She smoothed his thick hair from his brow. “All of us. You and I, and the children.” She cast a brief glance out the drawing room windows. The curtains were open, revealing an unimpeded view of the damp gardens below. “I hope they haven’t ventured too far. The rain’s only just stopped.”