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Thorne sighed, patting Hercules, who eyed him with his adoring brown eyes. “Her own path would have led to an empty classroom and shattered dreams. It was just a little help. It would break my heart if you’re disappointed in your school endeavor, sister. I know how hard you worked for it. I’d lay the whole world down for you if I could.”

Jane sipped her tea and looked at him. As Thorne met her eyes, warmth spilled through her veins. She gave him a smile full of all the love she felt for her brother. How could she ever leave the only family she had for a man she didn’t know and a world that would never care for her as much as Thorne’s little world did?

Guilt weighed on her at the thought of going behind Thorne’s back.

But it was for the best. The sooner Lord Richard was out of her and Thorne’s lives, the better.

10

Twelve days until the wedding…

The next day, Jane sat on one of the two sofas in the room, her back as straight as a plank and her face as tense as a wooden mask despite the pleasant warmth. Sumhall Place’s sunny sitting room smelled of tea, flowers—which stood in the vases on the sideboards and on the large, intricately carved, round table—and something citrusy.

Her cheeks burned as though she sat in direct sunlight. She hadn’t had tea among aristocrats in the past five years, and even though she knew how to behave in polite society, it felt as wrong as pushing herself into too-small clothes.

The Dowager Duchess of Grandhampton and Lady Calliope sat next to each other on the sofa opposite Jane. Lady Calliope, Jane felt instantly, was someone she could understand well, with her intelligent, sharp blue eyes and her kind disposition. In a chair with beautiful carved arms sat the current Duchess of Grandhampton, Penelope, the wife of Richard’s older brother Preston, who stood next to her, leaning his hip against the chair’s back. The duchess was a pretty woman with big blue-gray eyes and hair the color of old gold.

Richard sat in a chair at Jane’s side, so handsome and so proud. His blue eyes were as attentive on her as they had been in Hyde Park.

She recalled how he had brushed his knuckles against her cheek, sending a tingling sensation through her. In that moment, the air had crackled with an unspoken desire, and had she not halted him, their lips would have met, sealing their first kiss. Looking at her like that, he made her head spin and her knees fill with water. He made her forget who she was and what she wanted.

Just like now. He gazed at her as though he really could be her fiancé and as if he truly wanted to kiss her.

He was a rake. He seduced. He charmed. She needed to remind herself often. Yesterday she had told him so much more about herself than she’d wanted to. And he had seemed to listen and understand and not judge her. She’d felt heard, understood, accepted.

And then he’d found Hercules and returned him to her.

So she’d melted. But the worst was, if anyone had seen them yesterday, she’d be ruined, and he may be forced to marry her despite their agreement. No matter how good it felt to be touched by him, it was too dangerous to be alone with him. She was playing with fire. And as she sat next to him now, his presence so palpable, it was like an oven lit on a cold winter’s day. It made her so hot, her skin covered with a thin sheath of sweat and stuck to her chemise.

She was clad in her best dress, which was still only half as beautiful and fashionable as what the other ladies in the room wore. But she was not the oddest presence in the room full of silky cushions, sofas, and beautiful tea sets. That dubious honor went to the chaperone Thorne had insisted upon.

Unwilling to let her out of his sight, Reuben stood in the corner of the room, wide-eyed, holding a cup of tea that was so small in his large hands, it looked like he could crush it. His usually shaggy hair was oiled and parted down the middle. His shaggy beard, however, had not received the same treatment and stuck out in several directions. He was dressed in a working man’s clothes, something one saw regularly in Whitechapel—a brown coat with patches and seams, and trousers that looked baggy and had clearly been sewn for another man. He had washed his face for today, but there were crumbs stuck to his moustache and beard as he slowly, but loudly, crunched on a biscuit. Against the luxurious interior of the drawing room, he looked as out of place as a horse.

“Did you spend the last five years in Whitechapel?” asked the duke.

She glanced up to find his cool, dark eyes on her. A shiver ran down her spine at his piercing gaze. “Yes, Your Grace.” She put her teacup on its saucer with a slight rattling sound, her fingers shaking. “With my brother. He’s the only family I have left.”

“Do you know about the circumstances surrounding Spen—?”

“Preston,” said his wife, the duchess, “please, do not torment poor Miss Grant. We’re here to get to know her, not to interrogate her.”

“Preston, truly, there’s no need,” said Richard. “Miss Grant has nothing to do with Spencer’s disappearance.”

A warm wave of appreciation went through Jane, but she could fight her own battles, however uncomfortable. “I am aware of the circumstances and very sorry to hear what happened to your brother,” she said. “I pray for his safety and his quick return.”

“I have been to see your brother,” said Preston. “Did you know that?”

Richard’s face paled. “You have? When?”

“Yesterday. We’re to be family, after all, aren’t we? And he says he has no knowledge of what transpired with Spencer. He is lying. I have proof that Lord Neville was referred to him to get rid of Spencer.”

Jane’s hands went cold. This was going very poorly. “I am very sorry to hear of this,” she said and stood up.

“Preston, this is unacceptable behavior,” said Richard as he stood up, as well. “Miss Grant teaches poor children at a school she started by herself. What, pray tell, can you say against the character of a young lady like that?”

The shock of Richard defending her like that brushed through her. Preston held her in his gaze for a long time, then his expression softened. “Nothing. That is very admirable, Miss Grant. I apologize. I must look out for my family. I hope you understand.”

“Of course, Your Grace,” she said.