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Her eyes darted to the closed door of Calliope’s bedroom, muffled voices leaking through the sturdy wood. “I don’t have long. There are still two more dresses to try on.”

He nodded and led her gently towards the window illuminating the end of the corridor.

For the past three days, their investigation had halted while Reuben was away. But his obligation to take Jane out into society hadn’t stopped.

Though it wasn’t truly an obligation anymore—far from it. Seeing her had become as necessary as breathing.

Last night, Richard had come to take Jane to his sister-in-law Penelope’s art salon. While he’d waited for Jane, Thorne had surveyed him with a dark, warning gaze.

“Is everything ready for the wedding?” Thorne had asked coolly, thoughtfully swirling brandy in his glass.

Richard had nodded. “Indeed. The kitchen in Sumhall is preparing the feast.”

Thorne’s eyes had pierced him like a pin holding an insect to a display. “Good. Just make sure nothing stops the wedding. Remember our agreement.”

The thought of breaking off their engagement sent ripples down Richard’s spine but not out of fear. How could he ever bring himself to walk away from this woman?

At Penelope’s salon, the conversation between him and Jane had flowed. Her eyes had sparkled brighter than the chandelier that hung from the ceiling above. She had made him feel as if his feet had left the ground, and he could soar through the night sky. The feelings he had for her were overwhelming, a warmth that spread throughout his entire body.

Could she feel the same way?

After all they’d been through, could she, possibly, be having the same thoughts he was?

“Jane,” he began, “I’ll be candid. I know we agreed to an engagement to find out what happened to Spencer. But…” His heart beat rapidly in his chest. “What if we didn’t break it off?”

Jane’s blinking accelerated, and her blush faded rapidly. His body went cold. This was not the reaction he had hoped for. “But Richard—”

“If your answer is no, I urge you to reconsider. Be my wife. Let’s not terminate the engagement. Marry me.”

She disentangled her hands from his, swallowing hard. “Richard, this isn’t what we agreed upon. Why would you want to change that?”

He flinched, a knot forming in his stomach. Imagining confessing his feelings for her was one thing. Actually verbalizing them was a different matter entirely. His heart felt defenseless, fragile, just like it had when he’d been with Lady Charity. He knew Jane had doubts, just like Lady Charity had. And he just couldn’t bear it.

“Is this because of Thorne’s threat?” Jane asked, breaking into his thoughts.

That was another matter. Yet he wasn’t truly afraid of Blackmore. Perhaps he should be, but he wasn’t.

“If it is, don’t fret. I’ll handle Thorne. We can say it was because I didn’t want to, or we can stage some dishonorable act.”

A raw growl of frustration clawed its way up Richard’s throat. He yearned to tell Jane the truth, to confess his desire to share his life with her. But the ghost of past heartbreak clung to him, causing his soul to shudder.

His fear, that debilitating dread, kept him silent. He felt like a coward, unable to utter the words that truly mattered. Instead, he found himself saying, “I dishonored you, Jane. I kissed you. It would be unjust of me to leave you in such a compromised position.”

Jane chuckled, a touch of bitterness lacing her mirth. “You have done much worse things than kissing to many more women of the ton, and yet you married none of them.”

He clenched his fists helplessly. “I do not care about other women. I care about you. If anyone finds out—”

“You believe I care about such things? Society already looks down upon me. I hail from Whitechapel and have a brother accused of criminal acts. I can’t fall any lower.”

Richard’s jaw muscles worked at her words, the tic of tension visible. “Still.”

With a resigned sigh, Jane responded, “If you want an immediate answer, Richard, then it’s no. I don’t wish to marry you.”

He’d known rejection was a possibility, but hearing the words spoken aloud was a piercing blow, far worse than any anticipation. It was as if his heart was ripped from his chest and ground under a merciless millstone. The painful echo of his rejection by Lady Charity resonated in his soul—again, he was unwanted, not good enough.

* * *

“Why not?” Richard’s voice rang with urgency. “Is it because of your school?”