Julia glanced back only once, just long enough to form the impression of a bespectacled gentleman and a handsome lady with thickly plaited auburn hair. They’d been staring at Jasper quite unashamedly.

For all they knew, he was abducting some helpless young woman he’d drugged, bound, and wrapped up in a quilt. Julia had read a similar story once in a penny novel, though it had been a carpet, not a quilt. The young woman in the tale hadn’t awakened until she and her seducer were halfway to Calais. By then, her fate had been sealed.

Julia was slightly more confident about her own fate.

On entering Ridgeway’s house, Jasper had carried her upstairs to one of the bedchambers. He hadn’t lingered long enough to debauch her. After setting her down in the bed, he’d promptly gone away, leaving her with Mary.

“It ain’t proper,” Mary said again. It had become her refrain. “And my being here don’t make it proper.”

Julia sighed. Short as the journey had been, it had overtaxed her. She was exhausted, her limbs weak and her breath shallow. “I must get dressed.”

“No point in it. You may as well sleep as not.” Mary removed a single light-colored French kid glove from one of the carpetbags. “Bother. I know I packed the pair of these.”

Julia’s brows knit in a frown. She was reminded of something. Something she hadn’t fully comprehended at the time. “Mary?”

“Hmm?”

“When we were leaving the house, Jenkins tried to give Captain Blunt a pair of gloves. He said he’d left them behind on his last visit.”

Mary continued rooting through the carpetbag. She pointedly didn’t look up.

“Do you know anything about that?” Julia asked.

“What difference can it make? Given where you’re at now—”

“Mary.” Julia took a firmer tone. “Did Captain Blunt call on me in Belgrave Square before today?”

Abandoning the carpetbag, Mary grudgingly came to the bed. Her features were set. “If he did, it don’t make one bit of difference. Not anymore.”

“He did, then.” Julia scanned her maid’s face. “When?”

Mary exhaled a gust of breath. “Yesterday, while we were out at that bookshop in Charing Cross. Jenkins mentioned it in passing when we returned.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“It’s not my business. And you know how Sir Eustace feels about gossip.”

“Surely, it isn’t gossip to tell me I had a caller.” Julia leaned back against the pillows, perplexed. “Why did he come?”

Mary shrugged. “To see your father. Same as the other gentlemen who’ve called.”

A cold trickle of awareness spiked in Julia’s veins. For an instant she couldn’t breathe. “There have been others?”

“Now you’re upset. I told you—”

“Mary—”

“Yes, there were others. Not many. A few over the years, that’s all. Not anything to mention.”

As they spoke, the front doorbell rang below, echoing through the house. A creaking tread sounded on the stairs as a servant responded to the summons. Shortly afterward, men’s voices drifted up from the hall.