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But without him, whether the rest of her days would be called a life was a big question.

33

Three days until the wedding…

The next morning, Jane stared at the five gowns lying flat on her bed. Hercules sat at her feet, his tail thumping rhythmically against the wooden floor, panting with his dog-smile. Matching gloves lay alongside each dress. She picked up the silky material of the silvery-pink gown she’d worn last night…the night she’d thought she was brave enough to begin a new life and to believe in fairy tales.

In which the prince and Cinderella would be happy forever.

This frock was a stark contrast to the gray dress she had put on, the one her loyal Ruby had made for her. The one in which Jane truly belonged.

A large chest stood next to her bed, a dark shadow falling from its walls into its depths. The depths where all her gowns would vanish. She’d never wear them again.

The dress she was supposed to wear to the Almack’s ball five years ago was in that chest.

She let go of the silvery-pink gown and picked up her old gown, looking it over. It was white and silky, simpler than Mrs. Newman’s designs, more suitable for the young debutante she had been back then. The bodice was embroidered with delicate patterns of flowers and vines, and the ribbon under it had small river pearls sewn in a wavy pattern. The skirt had a layer of gauze. Jane remembered how she had thought she looked innocent and quite pretty as she gazed at herself in the mirror before departing for Almack’s.

Naive. She had been naive. She realized that, despite her gray dresses and her denial, she had never given up her secret hope that she would someday be accepted in high society. But that hope was truly dead now.

She dropped the gown back into the chest. Unfortunately, after believing ever so briefly that she could belong to Richard…to the world that was his…life had shown her, like a cold slap in the face, that she, indeed, could not.

She remembered the shocked expressions on people’s faces. The judgment in their eyes. Their mouths curved in barely hidden contempt. There was no trace of the respect or admiration she had encountered a few minutes before.

The forever he and she could have was just an illusion.

Thorne was right. No matter what Richard had said, she would never belong to the ton, to Richard. Not after the scandal that had occurred last night.

Her brother, with his ungentlemanly behavior, storming in like a barbarian, had shown everyone where she really belonged. And it wasn’t with the high society of London. It wasn’t with Richard.

Even if his intentions were noble, and he would marry her, after all, she’d always drag her association with Whitechapel with her, tarnishing him and his whole family.

Lady Whitemouth, Lady Fairchild, His Highness, and the rest of high society would never forget the evening Thorne Blackmore had barged into a royal ball to take his sister home.

She must now add these dresses to the chest and shut them away forever just like her feelings for Richard.

Hercules turned and let out a friendly bark. A knock at the door had her turn. It was Ruby, her eyes round, the deep wrinkles around her mouth dark.

“Janie…” she said. “I see you’re already dressed. I came to help you. Why did you not put on one of the pretty dresses Mrs. Newman made?”

“Because I was lying to myself. They are suited for a lady who lives in Mayfair. I won’t be that lady,” she said as she bent down to pick up the silvery-pink gown. She felt like she was saying goodbye. “I didn’t sleep, anyway, so I dressed myself. If you have time, could you help with folding these and putting them away? Perhaps we could sell them, and I can use the money for the school.”

“Of course, love,” Ruby said. “But won’t you need them for your life with your new husband?”

She shook her head, and with shaking hands, she picked up the blue-gray gown that would have been her wedding dress. “There’s no new husband.”

“Why not?” asked Ruby. “He wouldn’t leave you ruined, would he, the rascal?”

With her heart bleeding at the reminder of Richard, she folded the dress in two and then in two again.

“It doesn’t matter.” She laid the dress at the bottom of the chest, its material turning gray and dull in the shadowed interior. “My place is here.”

Ruby approached her, and Hercules bumped his nose into the maid’s hand. She patted his head, then took Jane into her arms, clutching her tightly in an embrace. “Oh, lovey, I am ever so sorry. I never intended for him to jilt you like that. All I wanted was for the man who ruined you to do the right thing and to marry you.”

Jane looked back at her and pulled away. “Thorne said it was you who told him Richard was in my room.”

Ruby nodded. “I only wanted the best for you.” Her eyes watered. “You deserve happiness, love. If anyone does, it is you.”

A storm of heartbreak tore at Jane’s chest. The loss of hope for a better life she’d never have.