“I’ll summon the carriage,” he said.

“Wait!” Julia called out anxiously. “What about Cossack?”

“He’ll follow behind us along with Quintus. I’ll leave instructions for Ridgeway.”

She exhaled. She might have known Jasper would have a plan. “Thank you.”

A hint of a smile edged his scarred mouth. “You can thank me when we’re out of London.” He opened the door. “Have your maid ready your things.”

“I’m not coming,” Mary said.

Julia’s gaze jerked to her maid. She stood by the wooden washstand, her arms folded and her face set in lines of mulish resolve. Julia recognized that look. Her stomach sank. “Would you give us a moment, please?” she asked Jasper.

He frowned. “We leave in fifteen minutes.”

With or without your maid.

He may as well have said it aloud. The sentiment was evident, lingering in the air as he withdrew, shutting the door behind him.

Only when he was gone did Julia give her full attention to Mary. “You don’t mean it.”

Mary showed no signs of being in jest. “I do. I’ll not leave London.”

“But why? You’ve come with me this far—”

“Didn’t have much choice, did I? Not with Captain Blunt issuing orders as though he was our superior officer.” Mary stalked to one of the carpetbags. She tucked the topmost pieces of folded clothing further inside the bag’s capacious interior before fastening the clasp shut. “God forgive me for leaving you with such a man. But you’ve made your bed, miss, and now—”

“Don’t say that,” Julia objected. “It’s not like you. Not when you know what my life’s been like.”

“You might have made a better life for yourself if you’d wed Lord Gresham. But you wouldn’t listen. And now look where you are—and who you’re with. It’s not my place to say so, but someone must warn you. You’ll be miserable with that man. Just you wait. In time, you’ll see I’m right. Once he has you in his power, far away from your family and friends, you’ll come to regret your choice.”

Julia was stunned by her maid’s words. She felt like a mortal maiden being damned by some minor goddess. Each sentence Mary uttered flayed like a knife, laying bare Julia’s own private fears and insecurities.

But she’d made up her mind.

She was set on her course, and no one, not Mary or anyone else, would dissuade her from following it through.

“At least it will have been my choice,” she said. “My own decision, for better or worse. Not something another person chose for me.”

“There’s some not capable of choosing things for themselves. Or of looking after themselves, neither.” Mary stomped to the other carpetbag. She refolded a petticoat before thrusting it back inside. “How do you intend to get by without me to help you dress? To brush your hair and sponge and press your gowns?” She fastened the bag shut. “You think Captain Blunt has a lady’s maid in that haunted manor of his what knows how to use turpentine to remove grease stains from a fine silk weave?”