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He couldn’t let Jane hear about this. He felt the righteousness of Thorne’s every word deep in his bones. He should have never touched her, should have waited, should have convinced her in other ways to say yes to him. He deserved every drop of Thorne’s wrath and more.

Richard nodded curtly. “Let it be so, sir.”

“What?” asked Jane, looking between them. “Let what be so? What did you say to him, Thorne?”

But Thorne’s eyes never left Richard.

Tomorrow, Richard would either be dead, or, if the authorities caught them, taken to prison. Unlike Preston, Richard didn’t possess a title and, therefore, could face the strictest consequences.

Thorne nodded back to him, all grace and cold fury, and turned to Jane. “Come on, sister. You were right, after all. You do not belong here.”

But she did, Richard wanted to say. Thorne was so wrong. She belonged with him. She belonged anywhere she wished to.

As Richard watched the two of them turn around and walk away from him and towards Thorne’s entourage, his heart bled. He should stop her, stop Thorne…but Thorne had made it very clear.

Richard had spoiled her. He had no claim on her.

Whispers went around the crowd as Jane, Thorne, and his men walked down the wide gravel carriage path and towards the large iron gate, behind which several carriages waited for them.

Calliope tugged at his arm. “Richard! What are you doing? Go and fight for her. She told me she loves you.”

Shock hit him like a slap. He blinked. “She did?”

He watched Jane’s silvery silky figure walk farther and farther away from him.

She loved him… Wasn’t that exactly what he craved to hear? Exactly what he wished she’d said to him?

And the farther her graceful back moved away from him and into the distance, the more his heart froze with fear. He’d been so close to happiness. But now exactly what he’d feared was happening.

It’s not a no.

And yet, it wasn’t a yes, either.

But he was back again in that garden five years ago. In the same summery darkness, surrounded by the scent of roses. Seeing Lady Charity in the arms of another man.

His chest felt so tight, it may as well have been crushed by two carriages.

He looked around. Illuminated by the lanterns and braziers, everyone stared at him, whispering, talking behind their fans.

Jane reached the large wrought iron gates, and as she was about to turn the corner and disappear into the dark street beyond, she turned to him and their eyes met.

Calliope shook him by the shoulder. “Richard! Go to her! Stop her! Fight for her!”

And he ran towards her, his feet eating the gravel under them. “Stop!” he cried. “Stop, Jane!”

Thorne and the three men, who were dressed like gentlemen, turned to Richard, their expressions murderous.

Jane was breathing hard, her gloved hand clutching her throat. Richard stopped before them, and as Thorne blocked his way protectively, Richard’s gaze never left Jane’s.

“I love you, Jane,” Richard said. Her eyes widened and blinked, her mouth opening as she gasped softly. “Please, do not leave. Our wedding is in four days. Show up there. Marry me. I love you, and I will spend the rest of my days trying to make you the happiest woman alive. It was not a no, remember? Make it a yes, Jane. Please, make it a yes.”

The silence that fell on the garden was so absolute, he could hear the soft snorting of a horse, the crackling of the garden fires behind him. He counted his heartbeats, the time between them stretching into lifetimes.

Her gaze softened and grew wet behind her spectacles. He thought he saw the glimpse of a yes in her eyes. The glimpse of their combined forever.

And then her eyes darted towards Thorne, and that forever died. She took the spectacles he had had made for her and handed them to him.

“The answer is no, Lord Richard,” she said firmly.