Well, Jasper.
She reached for his hand, taking it in hers. “I know you will not fail us. You are an excellent husband and father.”
He clenched his jaw. “I’m not. If I were, I would’ve known them from the time they were babes. I would’ve kept them from the ugly parts of this world. And if I wasn’t so bloody selfish, I wouldn’t have married you and dragged you into this den of murderers and thieves.”
“Do you regret marrying me?” she asked, hating herself for the question, yet needing to know the answer.
Even if it crushed her.
He threaded his fingers through hers. “Never, minx. You and the girls are the bright lights in my dark world. I’ll do anything I must to keep you safe.”
She believed him.
It was not a declaration of love, but it was something. And that something was all she required.
For now.
Chapter 13
The townhome was larger than Jasper had realized when he had hastily secured the lease. He hadn’t the slightest inkling what to do with a drawing room instead of a parlor or servant quarters or a damned library. Fortunately, Octavia did.
And that was why he had accompanied her on a shopping excursion. He watched, amused and not a little in awe of his wife, as she excitedly made her way through the bookseller they were currently patronizing. Fancy that—a day of shopping. Jasper Sutton, being led about Bond Street by his beautiful aristocratic wife. He never would have imagined himself in such a position before.
Why, he almost felt like a nib.
Almost, not quite.
He didn’t belong here, and he knew it. But he would strut about like a princely cove all bloody day for her.
Octavia turned to him, a book in hand. “I would dearly love to read this to the girls. They do so enjoy when we share stories in the evening. What do you think?”
He thought she could have whatever she wanted. And that he was damned lucky he’d settled upon marrying her, even if the means of procuring the match had been rather…foul on his part. Aye, he’d been a bastard, coercing her into becoming his wife. Yet, how could he entertain even a modicum of regret when she had forgiven him and she was his?
“As I said,” he told her instead of giving voice to the maudlin sentiment running rampant in his foolish head, “anything you wish.”
She smiled at him and resumed poking about the wares of the tidy shop. He had never bought anything for a woman before. Then again, he supposed he still had not. Octavia had been quite busy shopping for everyone but herself. A book for the girls here, a smart bonnet for Pen and a cheerful hat for Lily at the milliner. New slippers for Anne and Elizabeth. Fresh curtains to drape the windows at the townhome.
She was by no means spending coin as if they possessed an endless supply. Her every purchase had been economical. The girls had growing feet. Pen’s and Lily’s hats were drab and outmoded. The curtains in the formal drawing room were an eyesore.
Realizing he was drifting away in his thoughts and not keeping a proper eye on his wife, Jasper followed her as she wound around a tall shelf of books, in search of more fodder for Anne and Elizabeth’s nightly entertainment. They were all settling into their new routine remarkably well. While Jasper missed being beneath The Sinner’s Palace roof each night, he could not deny that he also enjoyed the separation.
He arrived promptly before dinner each evening. Octavia was a consummate hostess, and dinner was always punctual and agreeable. She had even taken care to learn which dishes he preferred to eat. No one had ever bothered to note his preferences before. He had come to understand that she excelled at caring for others. Likely, it was one of the reasons she had been content to live as a spinster with her sister. There, she had been free to tend to her niece and nephews, always putting them before herself.
She returned to his side, two new volumes having joined the first, beaming. “I think this will be more than enough reading material to keep the girls busy,” she announced.
Jasper settled the bill and directed the shopkeeper where to send the books, the address still strange on his tongue. Almost as strange as traveling in the more fashionable portion of London.
But this was his life now, and aside from the looming concern of who had set fire to his family’s property, Jasper was slipping into it with an ease that likely should have concerned him. In his world, the moment an enemy sensed a vulnerability, it was time to strike. He couldn’t help but to wonder who would strike next and when. However, whenever he was with Octavia, Anne, and Elizabeth, those fears faded away.
Even Motley, Drunkard, and Barnaby felt comfortably at home in their new lodging. Jasper’s dogs were quite pleased to have free reign of the staircases and large rooms, much to the dismay of the butler Octavia had hired.
Yes.
He, Jasper Sutton, had a goddamned butler.
The thought remained surreal as he and his wife left the bookseller’s vast shop and returned to their waiting carriage. They settled in, he at Octavia’s side, and he could not resist leaning into her to burrow his face into the crook of her neck and shoulder that he might inhale some of her delicious scent.
“You smell so damned good,” he murmured against her silken flesh.