Sixteen

Julia pressed her face into Jasper’s shoulder. He was so strong—so solid and sure—holding her in his arms as effortlessly as if she were a piece of thistledown.

She was still bleary-headed from blood loss. Her eyelids were heavy, and she couldn’t focus as well as she otherwise might. Events seemed to unfold around her in a hazy romantic dream.

Jasper uttered terse commands to the servants—something about packing Julia’s bags and having Cossack collected from the stables. Jenkins obeyed with all haste, dashing from the room on silent feet. Mary complied, too, eventually.

Julia suspected she knew why.

Mary had been present for Dr. Cordingley’s second visit this morning. She’d stood beside the bed, lips pressed tight in disapproval. Afterward, it was she, not Mama, who had sponged Julia’s brow.

“It’s not right,” she’d muttered under her breath. “Your own mother leaving you to that man.”

Mary rarely criticized anything Mama and Papa did. But this time, Dr. Cordingley had gone too far, and it had been with Mama’s express approval. Perhaps that was why Mary hadn’t barred the door against Jasper or run to fetch Julia’s parents.

Not that any of them could have stopped him.

Julia had the feeling that, once he’d made up his mind, no one on earth could stand in Jasper Blunt’s way.

She tightened her arms around his neck.

“As much as you can fit,” he told Mary as she stuffed clothes into a pair of carpetbags and an old leather portmanteau. “She won’t have the luxury of coming back.”

Jenkins returned from the stables, ducking into the bedchamber to confer with Jasper in a lowered voice.

“Miss Wychwood’s horse is being led round, sir.”

“Excellent.” Jasper strode to the door with Julia in his arms.

Jenkins preceded them. He opened the door quietly, looking out into the hall before motioning Jasper to go through.

The next thing Julia knew, Jasper was carrying her down the stairs.

She supposed she should feel mortified. She was, after all, in her nightdress, with her hair unbound and her arms bandaged heavily beneath her sleeves. But Jasper had respected her dignity. Her quilt was wrapped around her, shielding most of her body from view as he crossed the hall.

“I don’t feel safe here anymore,” she’d told him. “I would dearly like to leave.”

And he’d listened to her. He’d actually listened and understood.

He was right to say he was rescuing her. Julia didn’t think she could survive another visit from Dr. Cordingley.

Jenkins trotted alongside them. “I have your gloves, sir. You left them when last you called.”

“He’s not interested in his gloves,” Mary snapped, dragging Julia’s bags down the steps. “Attend to the door. And then come and get these.”

Jenkins rushed to open it, standing back as Jasper passed through with Julia in his arms.

A glossy black carriage waited in the street, with a liveried coachman on the box and a footman standing by the door. At the sight of them, he opened it and set down the steps.