“I—” Blake began but then stopped himself.
How can I tell her the truth? How can I tell her about my father? About my vow? She’ll think I am cruel—she will not understand.
“I do not want to hear excuses. I should have known better than to trust a rake like you.” Jane shook her head, as though disgusted with herself. “You made me believe that you could be trusted.”
“Youcantrust me.” Blake insisted, unsure why it meant so much to him.
I do not want her to think less of me. I do not want her to think that I think she is some kind of fool.
“I cannot. You have shown me that. How can I trust a man who would take such liberties with me, knowing that he has no wish to marry me?” Jane shot back.
Blake opened his mouth to explain himself. He wanted her to understand that it was not about her or his wishes. It was something bigger than all of that. But the words were stuck in his throat. In his mind’s eye, he saw his father and the maid.
If I break my vow, I will be just as weak as he was. It will break me, and I will break her. I cannot do that to her.
How could he explain that he could not give her the life that she deserved? That he had already made a vow that he could not break.
“I should not have done what I did,” Blake murmured.
“No, you should not have.” Jane shook her head.
“Do you regret it?” Blake asked before he could stop himself.
“It does not matter,” Jane replied.
“It does to me.”
Jane did not answer him and instead, she said, “If I had not overheard you, would you have tried to kiss me again? Would you have given me more false promises and hope?”
“I did not make any promises to you.”
The only vow I made is to a dead man—a dead man who made my life hell on Earth and who I intend to punish.
Anger rose within him as he pictured his father’s raised hand.
Jane’s voice, full of bitterness and sadness, brought him back to the present. “I suppose you did not. Yet, an honorable man would understand that what you—no, whatwedid, comes with certain expectations.”
There was a pause, and then she said, “Perhaps she was right.”
“Perhaps who was right?” Blake frowned. “Who is ‘she’?”
“It does not matter. All that matters is that I have seen the truth of things. I thought perhaps you cared for me—” Jane began, but he cut her off.
“I do care for you, Jane.”
“Do not say that. How can you say that? How can you behave the way you have done and then claim that you care for me?” Jane’s eyes filled with tears, and he felt as though his heart would shatter into a million pieces. “You once told me that a kiss was no great evil. That I should not be ashamed of it.”
“I did,” he admitted, wishing he could take her pain away.
I have behaved abominably. How could I do this to her?
“But you know as well as I do the world that we live in. You may not care for propriety or rules, but I do not have a choice.” Jane’s voice broke, and she shook her head. “If someone had seen us, if someone had discovered it, the scandal alone would ruin any prospects I have. And that of my sister.”
“I would not wish that upon either of you,” Blake said. “I did not mean to hurt you. I never wished to hurt you.”
“And yet you have,” Jane said.
“I am sorry.” Blake’s voice shook.
