Chapter 14 #2
Lady Cosima regarded him for a long, measured silence, as though weighing the full content of his soul. At last, she said, “That is admirable.”
Alistair swallowed hard, fighting the ache in his chest. “It is my fault she is in this mess, and I owe her my life. I would do anything for her.”
And heaven help him, he meant every word.
“I believe you,” Lady Cosima said at last, her voice carrying the weight of finality. She took a step back. “We will depart at first light tomorrow.”
“Thank you.”
Lady Cosima held his gaze. “Take care of yourself, my lord.” And with that, she walked away, leaving him alone in the gardens.
Jane did not quite know what to feel. Anger simmered within her, but beneath it lay hurt, betrayal, and—most bitter of all—sorrow.
She had been foolish enough to let her heart turn towards Alistair, foolish enough to believe his attentions meant something beyond gratitude and protection.
And yet, when he spoke of marriage, it was not of affection, not of love, not of any tenderness that might bind two souls together.
No, his offer had been born of duty alone.
Duty.
How she despised that word.
Had it not already chained her life, bound her like a prisoner to the expectations of men?
Her father had demanded she marry the duke for the family’s advantage.
Now Alistair, of all people, spoke of duty as though it were noble.
Worse still, he had gone so far as to suggest she might wed Lord Whitehill—a man she scarcely knew.
Yes, she had heard that his reputation was honorable, that his deeds were kindly spoken of in Society, but what of that?
He was a stranger to her. How could Alistair even conceive of such an idea? The insult of it burned within her.
Her only wish was to be alone, to gather her scattered thoughts and piece together the tatters of her heart. Yet as she passed through the entry hall, a knock resounded upon the front door. The butler hastened to answer it, and when the door swung open, there—of all people—stood her brother.
Jane stiffened, barely suppressing a groan. What could Adam want now? His presence was never welcome, least of all when she was raw with emotion.
With a weary sigh, she forced herself to speak, though her voice was edged with sharpness she could not disguise. “What do you want?”
Adam’s brow arched, his eyes narrowing upon her face. “You have been crying.”
The words struck her with humiliation, though she raised her chin. “I have,” she admitted. “But it matters not.”
He stepped towards her. “It does matter. Did Aunt Cosima make you cry?”
“No.”
“Then who?”
She shook her head, unwilling to lay her heart bare before him. “What do you want, Adam?” she repeated, her tone clipped. She had no strength for pleasantries.
He frowned, shifting uneasily. “I was hoping that we could talk.”
“We are talking.”
“Privately,” he pressed.
Against her better judgment, she gestured towards the drawing room. “Very well. We can speak in there.”
She entered first, crossing into the center of the room, her back straight and her gaze expectant. When Adam followed, she folded her arms, bracing herself.
“I… uh…” He faltered, an uncharacteristic hesitation. “I need your help.”
Jane blinked in surprise. That was the last thing she had anticipated. “Is that so?”
“Yes. Our estate is in difficulty. With the duke’s suit for breach of contract, we are in a grave situation—financially speaking. I, well… I was hoping you might prevail upon Aunt Cosima to give us money.”
Jane’s mouth parted in disbelief. “You are asking me for money?”
Adam shifted, clearly uncomfortable beneath her gaze. “I would ask Aunt Cosima directly, but she hates me.”
“She does not hate you.”
He gave a crooked smirk. “She hates me.”
“She may not hold you in the highest regard, but that is with good reason,” Jane retorted. “I can ask her, but I cannot promise what she will do.”
His smirk faded into a scowl. “This is all your fault, you know. Had you only married the duke, none of this would have come to pass.”
“I told you that I would not marry him.”
“It was your duty.”
She rolled her eyes heavenward. “And what of your duty, Adam? No one pressed you into chains for the family’s sake. You never sacrificed as I was expected to.”
Adam grew solemn, his expression hardening. “I intend to do my part. I will marry an heiress to keep our estate afloat. I know my duty, and I embrace it.”
She found herself actually feeling sorry for her brother and found herself saying, “I am sorry.”
“For what?”
“That you will never know love.”
He gave a careless shrug. “I never said I would not. That is what a mistress is for, not a wife. Marriage is a business transaction, nothing more.”
“I disagree.”
Adam dismissed her with a wave. “Regardless, the duke is still willing to marry you, even after the spectacle you made yesterday.”
“Spectacle?” she echoed in disbelief. “He tried to strike me! Only Lord Alcott’s intervention spared me.”
“Pity,” Adam muttered, as though the duke’s cruelty were inconsequential.
Her patience snapped. “It is time for you to leave.”
“Not before you promise to ask Aunt Cosima for the funds,” he pressed.
Before Jane could answer, a familiar voice cut through the air.
“What funds?”
Adam flinched, paling as Aunt Cosima swept into the room, her presence commanding as ever.
“Aunt Cosima,” Adam said with forced cheer, “what a pleasure. You are looking well.”
She leveled him with a pointed stare. “Spare me the flattery. What do you want?”
Adam straightened. “We are in need of assistance. The duke’s suit threatens to ruin us. I hoped you might be generous enough to help.”
“And why, pray tell, should that be my concern?”
His jaw clenched. “If Jane had only married the duke, we would not be forced into this position.”
Aunt Cosima’s eyes grew sharp. “Did you or your father ever ask Jane what she wanted when you signed the contract?”
“No, but—”
“Then this is the consequence of your arrogance. The fault is yours, not hers.”
Adam’s eyes darkened. “It was an advantageous match. She was a fool not to accept it.”
“And what did you stand to gain?”
He hesitated, then muttered, “Twenty thousand pounds.”
Jane gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. “The duke was to pay you to marry me?”
“Yes, and we kept your dowry as well,” Adam snapped. “Now do you see the position you have placed us in?”
Jane’s stomach churned. All her life, she had been nothing but a transaction.
“Put your big-boy breeches on,” Aunt Cosima said, “and accept that this is your doing.”
Adam’s face mottled with fury. “No! This is Jane’s fault, not mine!”
Aunt Cosima looked unimpressed by his admission. “And that is precisely why I will not lift a finger to aid you. You blame everyone but yourself.”
“You have the funds,” Adam growled.
“I do,” she replied. “But they are mine to command.”
Adam took a step towards her, his voice full of condescension. “Do not think yourself above me. You had to marry a common merchant to gain your fortune.”
“And I have never regretted that choice,” Aunt Cosima replied.
“You are nothing but street rubbish—”
“Adam!” Jane interrupted. “You will not speak so to her.”
But Aunt Cosima waved her off. “Do not trouble yourself, dear. His words cannot wound me.”
“Even so, I will not endure him insulting you,” Jane insisted, turning towards her brother. “Go, Adam. And do not return.”
He stepped towards her, his breath sour with brandy. “You think because you are an heiress you are better than me.”
“I have never thought that,” she said firmly.
“The money you inherit is tainted,” he hissed. “You could have been a duchess.”
Jane’s shoulders straightened. “Must we rehash this same tired argument again?”
Adam’s glare burned into her. “This is not over.”
“It is,” Aunt Cosima declared. “We are leaving for my country estate soon enough.”
“Good. London will be glad to be rid of you both,” Adam sneered, his lip curling with disdain. “I don’t even know why I bothered to come. I should have known you would not help us.”
“Then you should have trusted your first instinct,” Aunt Cosima retorted.
Adam gave a harsh scoff and spun on his heel. Moments later, the slam of the front door reverberated through the house, rattling the windows.
Aunt Cosima released a slow breath, then said with perfect composure, “Well, I must admit I shall not miss him when we are at the country estate.”
“I am sorry for what he said to you.”
Her aunt gave a small, dismissive smile. “His low opinion of me is nothing new, my dear. And it is no different from what most of the ton think of me.”
“Well, he is wrong, as is anyone else who dares to think such a thing. You are one of the best people I know.”
Aunt Cosima’s eyes held a trace of weariness. “You are kind, Jane, but I know I can be rather… eccentric at times.”
“So can everyone,” Jane replied quickly, unwilling to hear her aunt belittle herself.
With graceful dignity, Aunt Cosima crossed the room and settled upon the settee, patting the cushion beside her. “Come. Sit with me. And tell me—why were you crying after speaking with Lord Alcott?”
Jane bit her lower lip as she blinked back the tears that had started to form. She had not wished to discuss this, least of all aloud.
As though sensing her hesitation, Aunt Cosima continued, “You should know, I overheard everything. And afterward, Lord Alcott and I had a very frank talk.”
Jane’s heart ached. “Then you know… that he suggested we marry, but only from duty. Nothing more.”
“Is that why you are so very upset?”
“I do not know why I am upset,” she attempted.
“I think you do,” Cosima said, her voice carrying both sympathy and certainty. “I think a part of you would like to marry him. But not because of duty.”
Jane turned her face away, for tears were welling faster than she could blink them back. “It does not matter what I want. I turned him down.”
“As well you should have,” Aunt Cosima agreed. “But, my dear, that did not answer my question.”
Frustration bubbled up inside Jane. “Why must it matter? You have made it very clear that you do not approve of him.”
Aunt Cosima rose and came to stand before her, her gaze piercing but not unkind. “You love him, do you not?”
The words stole the air from Jane’s lungs. She could deny it no longer. She did love Alistair. With him, she felt understood in a way no one else had ever managed. He made her laugh, challenged her thoughts, and somehow, she liked herself more when he was near.
In a voice no stronger than a whisper, she confessed, “I do.”
“I see. But you must remember—if you marry him, you forfeit your inheritance. Is that truly what you desire?”
Jane’s tears spilled freely now. She swiped them away, shaking her head. “I have no intention of marrying Alistair. Not now. Not ever.”
For a fleeting instant, it seemed as though her aunt looked disappointed, though she masked it quickly. “Good,” she said briskly. “But I did promise him that I would keep you safe. Which is why we leave tomorrow, at first light, for my country estate.”
Jane nodded, though her heart felt heavy as lead. “I think that is for the best.”
“As do I.” Cosima placed a gentle hand on Jane’s sleeve, her touch reassuring. “You will love the estate. It sits beside woodlands, and in the evenings you may catch sight of deer grazing. It is a peaceful place.”
Jane forced a smile to her lips, though it did not reach her heart. “It sounds lovely.”
“Come then, we should begin packing.”
Jane allowed herself to be guided from the drawing room. Yet with every step she took, her heart whispered its protest. For though the country promised peace and safety, she could not escape the truth—leaving London meant leaving Alistair. And in her soul, it felt very much like a mistake.