Chapter 7
Jane stood at the edge of the ballroom, her gaze drifting towards the rear where Alistair was speaking with his sister.
There was a tension in his shoulders she recognized all too well.
He was enduring something unpleasant and doing his best to hide it.
She wished there were something she could do to help him, to return the kindness he had shown her by asking her to dance.
That moment had not gone unnoticed. In fact, it had been the subject of considerable attention.
She could feel the stares pressing into her skin even now.
The rustle of silk, the faint gasps behind gloved fingers, the subtle but unmistakable flick of fans snapping open—none of it escaped her.
No matter how much she tried to hold her head high, she knew she was still the scandal of the evening.
The fallen woman who had dared to show her face at a proper ball.
Her aunt leaned close and murmured above the music, “You danced wonderfully with Lord Alcott.”
Jane barely had time to form a reply before a hand clamped around her arm.
“What do you think you are doing?” a voice hissed.
Her stomach dropped.
Adam.
His grip was bruising, and she instinctively tried to wrench herself free, but he only held tighter. “What do you want?” she demanded, keeping her voice low to avoid creating a scene—even as her pulse pounded with dread.
“I want you gone,” he growled, leaning in so close she could feel his breath against her cheek. “You don’t belong here. Not anymore.”
Jane straightened her spine, refusing to cower before him. “I am not going anywhere.”
“Oh, yes, you are,” he said. “Even if I have to drag you out myself.”
Before she could respond, her aunt’s voice sliced through the tension. “Release her, young man.”
Adam’s head snapped towards their aunt. “You shouldn’t be here either. You married a merchant.”
“Ah,” Aunt Cosima said with an arched brow. “But a wealthy merchant.”
He sneered. “Is there such a thing?”
Her aunt smiled knowingly. “Indeed. Wealthier, in fact, than you and your entire family combined.”
“And how would you know that?”
“I have my ways.” Her voice was light but laced with steel. “Now, I’ll ask again. Release your sister.”
A flicker of hesitation crossed Adam’s face before he finally let go. Jane cradled her arm, resisting the urge to rub it. He had no doubt left a mark.
“You both need to leave,” he spat. “You’re not welcome here.”
“Actually,” Aunt Cosima said, “we were both personally invited. And we intend to stay until the final dance is over.”
Adam’s lip curled. “Jane is an embarrassment to this family. As are you.”
“Curious,” Aunt Cosima said with an indulgent tilt of her head, “considering I’ve just made her my heir.”
Jane’s breath caught. “Are you… quite certain?”
Her aunt lifted her chin proudly. “I am. That should make the ton reconsider their opinions of you.”
“You cannot be serious,” Adam spluttered. “Jane is hardly qualified to be anyone’s heir. She knows nothing of estate management—”
“And you do?” Cosima countered.
“I know more than she ever will. She’s just a… a useless female.”
Jane felt the insult like a slap, but before she could retort, her aunt stepped in.
“Then it is fortunate,” Aunt Cosima said, eyes gleaming, “that I am a useless female as well. I shall place my stock in Jane.”
“You’re making a mistake.”
“Perhaps,” she conceded, “but it is my mistake to make.”
Adam’s nostrils flared with rage. “You risk making an enemy out of me and of the Duke of Brackenford.”
Cosima gave a delicate shrug. “An enemy or two might keep me young.”
Before Adam could explode, a familiar voice broke the standoff.
“May I have the privilege of this next dance?” Lord Luca asked, his tone light, though his eyes flicked between her and her brother with quiet calculation.
Relieved by the interruption, Jane slid her hand into his. “You may.”
As he led her onto the floor, he leaned closer and said under his breath, “I thought you might need rescuing.”
She gave him a weary smile. “Was it that obvious?”
“To me, yes,” he replied, voice dry. “No offense, but I’m not especially fond of your brother.”
“Then you are in good company, my lord.”
He grinned. “Lord Barkley was a tyrant at Eton. We were at odds more often than not.”
“I cannot say I am surprised.”
They took their places in the quadrille, and Jane tried to prepare for the dance, but her mind still reeled from the confrontation. And from her aunt’s declaration.
Lord Luca gave her a sidelong glance. “I must say, I’m glad you didn’t go through with the wedding.”
“As am I,” she admitted. “Though I am living with the consequences now.”
He nodded, his expression turning solemn. “It is still better than being shackled to the Duke of Brackenford, I imagine.”
“It is,” she admitted.
A beat of silence passed before he asked, “Did he ever speak to you about his first wife?”
Her brow furrowed. “Only that she was mad.”
“Did he ever say what made him believe that?”
She shook her head. “No. He rarely spoke of her… or of any of his wives, for that matter. Only that they had failed him by not giving him a son.”
He gave a wry smile. “That sounds about right.”
“Why do you ask?”
“Merely curious.”
She studied his face. “By the way he spoke of her, I never believed he had any affection for her.”
“He didn’t. It was an arranged marriage. They were second cousins.”
The music began, and they moved through the figures of the dance. But even as Jane smiled and curtsied and turned about the floor, her mind was racing—not just with the weight of what had transpired, but with the knowledge that she was no longer a castoff.
She was an heiress now.
It all seemed like a dream.
The music came to a graceful end, and Jane dipped into a final curtsy. She was still catching her breath when Lord Luca approached once more, his expression polite but thoughtful.
He offered his arm. “Thank you for the dance.”
She placed her gloved hand on his forearm. “It was my pleasure.”
As they crossed the floor, weaving through murmuring guests, Jane felt the glances again—less scandalous than before, perhaps, but still curious. Still uncertain.
Lord Luca leaned slightly towards her. “I understand,” he said quietly, “that you are the reason Lord Alcott is still alive.”
Her steps faltered. “I… uh…” She couldn’t quite look at him.
He patted her hand in a gesture that was unexpectedly kind. “Do not worry, Lady Jane. Your secret is safe with me. I only wished to say… what you did was brave.”
“I was merely at the right place at the right time,” she said. It was the truth—at least in part—and she hoped it would be enough.
“It was more than that,” he said, stopping beside her aunt. His gaze held hers, solemn and sincere. “And we both know it.”
Then he released her hand and bowed. “Until later, my lady.”
Jane watched him walk away, his tall frame disappearing into the crowd.
Her thoughts were broken by her aunt’s voice behind her. “A dance with a viscount and now a duke’s son?” Aunt Cosima’s tone was teasing, but not without pride. “You are making quite the impression tonight, my dear.”
Jane turned to face Cosima, the humor in her aunt’s words lost beneath the swirl of emotions in her chest. “Did you truly mean it?”
“Mean what?” she asked. “You must be more specific because I say a lot of things, most of which I cannot remember.”
Jane swallowed. “What you said earlier… about making me your heir.”
For a brief moment, her aunt’s sharp features softened. “Yes, darling. I meant every word. There is no one more deserving of managing what I’ve built.”
Jane felt the truth of it settle over her like a warm shawl… and yet, the weight of it was dizzying. “Adam was furious.”
“Good,” her aunt replied. “I know he is my nephew and I am supposed to love him, but he makes it so dreadfully difficult.”
Jane gave a breathy laugh, equal parts disbelief and relief. “I can’t believe this is happening.”
Her aunt stepped closer. “Believe it. This changes everything. Your future. Your choices. But—” She held up a finger. “There is one condition.”
“Which is?”
“I must approve of whomever you marry. I won’t have you throwing yourself away on some dandy or a fortune-hunting scoundrel. I want you to marry for love.”
Jane blinked at her, stunned. Of all the possible conditions, she had not expected that. “For love?” she echoed, her voice almost a whisper.
Her aunt’s expression grew more serious than Jane had ever seen it. “I married for love, and it made me wealthy in more ways than coin ever could. I want the same for you.”
Emotion swelled in Jane’s throat, and she struggled to find the words that might possibly convey the gratitude she felt. “Thank you,” she managed. It felt too small, but she meant it with her whole heart. “Truly… thank you. This feels like a dream.”
“And so it is,” her aunt said, touching her arm. “Now that you are an heiress, you may marry whomever you choose. Tell me—do you have someone in mind?”
The question hung in the air, innocent and yet dangerously pointed.
Before she could stop herself, an image leapt unbidden into her mind: Alistair.
His broad shoulders. The gentleness in his eyes. The way he had stood beside her when no one else dared.
She shook her head quickly, willing the thought away. Why had she thought of him? He was her friend. That was all. He had always been kind to her—even as a boy—but there had never been more than that. Had there?
Her aunt raised a brow at her silence. Jane forced a smile, brushing away the thought like one might swat at a persistent moth.
“No one,” she lied. “Not at present.”
But even as she said it, her mind betrayed her—and there he was again, in the corner of her memory, looking at her as though she mattered.
As though she had always mattered.
“The worst thing ever just happened!”