She went on in the same earnest voice. “I know you’ve a preference for Miss Throckmorton. You must think her dowry greater than mine. But it isn’t. I have one hundred thousand pounds coming to me on my marriage. It’s more than twice what hers is. Did you know that?”

He hadn’t known. Ridgeway had said Julia was in expectation of fifty thousand pounds upon her marriage, not one hundred. Either way, it made little difference. Without her father’s permission, Jasper would get none of it.

That fact should have been foremost in his mind. But sitting at Julia’s bedside, her hand cradled in both of his, all he could think of was having her.

And why shouldn’t he if she was offering herself to him?

She was so sweet. So beautiful. Like an enchanted princess in a fairy tale; lying there, rosy lips half-parted in expectation, waiting for true love’s kiss to break the spell.

It wasn’t meant to be him. She deserved someone better. Kinder, gentler. A man who could give himself to her absolutely, with no dark secrets. No sinister past.

Jasper was keenly aware that, in this story, he was the villain, not the hero. It should have stopped him. And perhaps it might have if he’d been nobler.

But he wasn’t noble.

He was tired and bitter—so ungodly bitter at the injustice of it. After all he’d suffered. All he’d sacrificed. Fate couldn’t be so cruel as to offer up his heart’s desire and expect him to refuse it.

“Did you?” she asked again.

He didn’t answer her, asking instead: “What if there were no money?”

Her brows notched. “What do you mean?”

“Just that.” He refrained from going into specifics. Her father’s duplicity was the last thing she needed to hear about right now. Her parents had already betrayed her enough. “What if you had no dowry at all? What if there was no means to afford servants, fine clothes, or carriages? What if there was only me?”

“Only you?” She didn’t sound at all put off by the idea.

Jasper’s pulse jumped on a ridiculous surge of hope. He forced it to calm. He was getting ahead of himself. “And the children,” he added. “And a house that’s crumbling to its foundation.”

“What if? What if?” She squeezed his hand. “I don’t care about the money. Not so long as I have my books to read and a safe place to lay my head. It’s that I want. Safety. I don’t ever wish to be afraid again.”

“Everyone’s afraid of something. It’s the nature of being human.”

“You’re not afraid.”

“Yes, I am.” He was very much afraid he was going to accept her reckless proposition. “It isn’t wise to tempt me, Julia. You may not like what happens next.”

“I’m not a child. I shall be three and twenty soon. An old maid, too long on the shelf. And—” She faltered, lips trembling. “I don’t feel safe here anymore. I would dearly like to leave.”