Stolen By the Heartless Duke (Stolen by the Duke #12)

Chapter 1

Chapter One

“You have not smiled once tonight.”

Lady Jane Deverell smiled sweetly as she accepted another glass of champagne from a passing servant. “I am smiling now. I also smiled when Lady Barrington compared Lord Maltby’s dancing to a wounded goose.”

Beside her, Lady Lavinia Pratt nearly choked on her own drink. “That doesn’t count. That was cruelty to all those watching.”

Jane smirked at her best friend. “She was accurate, at least.”

The music from the orchestra swelled at the far end of the ballroom, strings drifting beneath the glittering chandeliers of Wynten House.

June heat pressed against the tall windows despite the late hour.

The scent of roses drifted in from the gardens below.

Inside, guests laughed, gowns shimmered, and jewels flashed beneath candlelight.

Everything was beautiful. Everything felt exhausting.

Lavinia eyed her carefully. “You truly mean to go through with this…this charade?”

Jane followed her gaze across the room to Lord Maltby, who stood beside a cluster of gentlemen looking immensely pleased with himself. He was certainly handsome, in the polished, forgettable way fashionable men often were. Blond hair. Fine tailoring. An agreeable title.

A practical match. Nothing more.

“He is respectable,” Jane replied. “My mother approves. Colin approves. The estate requires stability after my father’s passing. There are far worse fates.”

“That is not an answer,” Lavinia chided.

Jane took a sip of her champagne. “Love is a luxury, Lavinia.”

“And yet most women still hope for it,” her friend said.

Jane looked back toward Lord Maltby just as he laughed too loudly at something one of the other men had said.

Hope had very little to do with anything.

Before she could reply, movement near the ballroom doors caught her eye.

Her brother Colin stood there speaking to two older gentlemen. He was dark-haired and broad-shouldered, his expression animated in a way it rarely was during political discussions. Even from across the room, Colin carried an easy warmth that drew people toward him.

Relief loosened something tight in her chest. At least he looked happy tonight.

“Your future husband is staring,” Lavinia murmured.

Jane turned just in time to see Lord Maltby approaching. He bowed over her hand with practiced precision.

“Lady Jane,” he said smoothly. “You have abandoned me to the wolves.”

“You seem to be surviving admirably, my lord.” Jane contorted her features into a smile that she hoped did not look like the grimace she felt inside.

His mouth twitched, though she could tell he disliked the remark. Maltby preferred soft-spoken women who gazed at him adoringly. Jane had never pretended to be one.

“I was just telling Lord Harrington that we should depart for Brighton after the wedding,” he continued. “The sea air may improve your… erm, temperament.”

Lavinia’s eyes widened, her brows knitting at once.

Jane folded her fan and stepped forward, as though to shield Maltby from Lavinia’s oncoming wrath. She reminded herself that this whole marriage was one of duty, and she knew how to do her duty well.

“How fortunate for me,” she ended up saying, though she felt the buzz of Lavinia’s anger from behind her.

Maltby either missed the dryness entirely or chose to ignore it. “You will enjoy being away from London. Society becomes tedious at this time of year.”

“Hmm.” Jane made a noncommittal noise.

A faint crease appeared between his brows. “You are unusually quiet this evening, my lady.”

“I am at my own engagement party, my lord. I fear I exhausted my conversational abilities greeting two hundred guests,” Jane said.

“That’s fair.” He glanced around the ballroom. “Though I must confess, I expected your brother to make more effort to speak with me tonight.”

Jane stiffened slightly. “Colin has spent the entire week arranging this evening.”

“Yes, but…” Maltby began, but stopped.

A thunderous crack split the air, interrupting him.

The music stopped mid-note.

For one long second, nobody moved.

Then screaming erupted across the ballroom.

Jane spun toward the entrance as masked men stormed through the doors. This was not a masquerade. One held a pistol raised toward the chandelier above them, smoke curling from its barrel.

Another shot exploded. Glass shattered somewhere behind her. Women cried out in fear. Guests stumbled over one another in panic. A violin screeched horribly as a musician dropped it.

“Where is Lord Wynten?” a masked man barked.

Colin. What do they want with Colin?

Jane’s heart slammed painfully against her ribs. She wasn’t sure what she should do. Everything felt slow and sluggish, as if it was moving through water.

The leader of the masked group stepped farther into the ballroom, pulling the black cloth so that it was covering the lower half of his face.

“Forgive the interruption, ladies and gentlemen,” he drawled. “I do hate breaking up such a romantic gathering, but we simply must have a chat with Lord Wynten.”

He grabbed a nearby vase of flowers and smashed it on the floor. More screams rose into the air.

Jane turned frantically through the chaos. “Mother?”

There was no answer.

Bodies surged around her. A gentleman knocked into her shoulder hard enough to cause her to stagger backward.

“Mama!” she called again.

Lavinia grabbed her arm. “Jane, come on! We have to get to cover.”

“But my mother—” Jane protested.

Another gunshot shattered one of the tall windows overlooking the gardens. The room instantly quieted. Broken glass rained across the marble floor.

The masked man lowered the pistol slightly. “There, now. Much better.” His voice sharpened. “Lord Wynten. Present yourself.”

Jane’s blood rushed through her ears, so that she could only hear the roar of her pulse.

Where was Colin?

Then she saw him. He emerged slowly from the crowd near the center of the ballroom, his hands raised carefully in surrender. Candlelight caught the stark tension in his face, though his voice remained steady.

“I am here.”

Jane stopped breathing.

Colin looked directly at the intruders. “Take whatever money you want. Jewels, silver, the safe upstairs. I do not care. Just do not harm my family or my guests.”

One of the masked men laughed.

Another crossed the room in three long strides and punched Colin viciously across the face.

Jane gasped.

Her brother hit the floor hard enough to rattle the nearby table.

“Colin!” her mother screamed.

The Dowager Countess of Wynten surged forward from the crowd before Jane could stop her, terror twisting her features. “My son!”

A pistol swung toward her instantly.

“No!” Jane lunged between them without thinking.

The movement happened so quickly she barely registered it.

Still, that didn’t stop Jane from jumping in front of her mother, shielding her with her body, her chest heaving and her hands trembling violently at her sides.

The man aimed straight at her heart.

Jane let out a shaky breath.

The ballroom went deathly still.

Behind her, she heard her mother’s sharp, frightened breaths.

“Please,” Jane managed, “Please do not shoot her.”

The masked man tilted his head. For one horrifying moment, Jane thought he might pull the trigger anyway.

Instead, he laughed. “Brave little thing, aren’t you?”

Another man beside him snorted. “Or stupid.”

Jane forced herself not to step back. Fear crawled beneath her skin, sending ice through her veins. She held the gunman’s gaze. If she moved, if she faltered…she didn’t want to find out what would happen.

Her mother clutched the back of Jane’s arm hard enough to hurt.

The leader sauntered closer, his boots crunching over shattered glass. “Well,” he said, looking Jane over slowly, “this explains why Wynten was so eager to cooperate.”

Jane wanted to spit at him. Instead, she said, “Please, let our guests go. We can discuss this like civilized people”

“I’m afraid it’s not that simple, sweetheart.”

He gestured lazily toward Colin, who was still dazed on the floor. Two men hauled him upright by the arms. Colin groaned softly, blood visible at the corner of his mouth. Something inside Jane nearly broke.

Her mother sobbed behind her. “Please! He has done nothing wrong.”

“Quiet!”

The leader did not even raise his voice, yet the word sliced through the room. Lady Wynten flinched, becoming immediately silent.

Jane swallowed past the lump growing in her throat. “If you tell us what this is about, we will cooperate.”

“Will you, now?” The man gave her a hard look.

“Yes.”

He studied her for a long moment, amusement glinting in his eyes above the cloth. Then he sighed theatrically. “Unfortunately, my lady, explanations are dreadfully inconvenient.”

Behind him, Colin tried to pull free from the men restraining him. “Do not involve them,” he snapped. “This is between you and me.”

“Oh?” The leader sounded entertained. “Then perhaps you should have thought of that sooner.”

The man looked at Jane and took a slow step closer. “Tell me, Lady Jane, does your brother often meddle in matters that do not concern him?”

Jane frowned. “What?”

“Sometimes people must pay for what they do,” the man said.

Jane’s stomach tightened. What on earth did that mean?

“Please let him go…” her mother whimpered from behind her. “Let us all go. This is all so terribly wrong—”

Another shot exploded into the ceiling, cutting her mother off. Guests screamed again, and Jane pulled her mother close, still covering her body with her own. Dust drifted down from above as the masked man slowly lowered his pistol.

“Listen carefully,” he announced to everyone in the ballroom. “If anyone follows us, they die.”

Silence ensued. No one moved. No one even seemed to breathe.

Jane looked desperately at Colin as the men dragged him toward the doors. His eyes found hers across the room. Apologetic. Terrified.

“Jane,” he called roughly.

She took a step forward instinctively.

A gun clicked.

She froze.

“Careful,” one of the masked men warned her.

Her mother broke then, trying to run after Colin despite everything. “You cannot take him!”

Jane caught her around the waist. “Mama, no!”