Eight

Julia’s breath caught at his words. She supposed she should be afraid. Any sensible lady would be. Captain Blunt had all but outlined his plan to marry an heiress and use her dowry to repair his fortunes. He was making no effort at deception. Quite the opposite.

Thus far, they’d talked of his finances, his illegitimate children, and even the children he might sire with his future wife. A wife who, only a few short days ago, he’d imagined would be her.

An unseemly conversation.

Anne would be horrified. But Anne didn’t subsist on a steady diet of romances and sensation novels.

To Julia, there was nothing very evil about Captain Blunt’s plans. He wasn’t, for example, anything like Sir Percival Glyde, one of the characters in Mr. Collins’s novel The Woman in White. Sir Percival had been charming on the surface. But underneath, he’d been a thorough villain; marrying a vulnerable heiress only to steal her fortune, falsify her death, and have her committed to an asylum under an assumed name.

Not so Captain Blunt.

He’d been honest and straightforward with Julia from the beginning. She admired him for it, even if she didn’t wholly understand him.

“I hope I won’t need rescuing at Lord and Lady Claverings’ ball tonight,” she said. “Will you be there?”

“I will.”

She smiled, relieved. “I confess, I’m not looking forward to it. It helps to know I shall have a friend in attendance.”

Captain Blunt’s battle-scarred face was void of emotion.

She realized, belatedly, what she’d said. She’d called him a friend.

Were they friends? One wouldn’t think so. Not judging by the way he was looking at her now. But she was learning that his countenance wasn’t a reliable indicator of his feelings. For that she need only look at his actions. At his words.

He’d assisted her last night when she needed him. Had stood by her side, talking to her about novels until she’d regained her composure.

And that wasn’t all.

Only moments ago, he’d told her that she had a beautiful soul. That she was a beautiful soul.

Julia glowed with warmth to recall it.

Had any gentleman ever said anything half so wonderful? Not that she’d ever heard. Not that she’d ever read, either. It was surely the most romantic sentiment ever uttered.

And it had been uttered to her.

A lady could live off such a compliment for a lifetime.

“You needn’t feel in any way obliged to me,” she added. “I shall do very well on my own.”

“You’ll be in company with your chaperone?” he asked.

Their two horses walked abreast, as companionably as if they were stablemates. Only Cossack’s occasional attempts at nipping Quintus revealed the newness of their acquaintance.

Julia tightened her hands on her reins. “I will. My parents have enlisted Mrs. Major for all my engagements this season.”

“She’s a formidable protector.”

“Yes, she is. Though my father has had to remind her of her duties once or twice.”