Chapter 15 #2
Moments later, two horses were led round.
Alistair swung into the saddle in one fluid motion, his grip hard on the reins.
He barely registered the dark clouds roiling above or the sting of wind at his face.
The danger to himself was inconsequential.
All that mattered was that he reached Jane before Jules did.
He leaned low over the gelding’s neck, spurring it forward. Rupert followed close behind as they plunged into the crowded streets.
He would reach her before Jules.
Or he would die in the attempt.
Jane sat in the coach, the steady sway of the wheels lulling her body but doing nothing to soothe the storm in her mind.
A book lay open in her hands, yet her eyes had not moved beyond the same sentence for several minutes.
Her thoughts were elsewhere—always circling back to Alistair.
With every jolt of the coach, it seemed as though her heart cracked a little more.
It was absurd. He had asked her to leave, pleaded with her even, insisting she must be far away from him and the dangers that shadowed his life.
That rejection alone ought to have been enough to still her feelings.
However, that was not the wound that tormented her.
No, it was his proposal. He had offered for her hand, not out of love, but out of duty.
And she, foolish creature that she was, had gone and fallen in love with him.
Drat and double drat.
Why must her heart betray her so? To love a man who prized obligation above passion was to court misery. And still, she could not stop loving him.
Her aunt’s voice broke gently into her reverie. “It will be all right, my dear.”
Jane snapped the book closed, admitting with a sigh, “I hope that is true. But a very dangerous man wants Alistair dead.”
“There is nothing you can do about that,” Aunt Cosima replied.
“I know,” Jane said, her shoulders drooping. “I only wish there were some way I could help him.”
“And how would you help him?” her aunt asked, arching one brow. “With your secret ninja skills?”
Despite the heaviness of her heart, a laugh slipped out of Jane. “I have no such skills, and you know it.”
“Pity. They would be most useful at times like these.”
Setting her book aside, Jane reached for her aunt’s hand. “Thank you. For everything you have done for me.”
Aunt Cosima waved her hand in airy dismissal. “Oh, pish-posh, I require no thanks.”
“But I owe you everything,” Jane pressed. “You have let me be myself. You have not turned your back on me, not once.”
“And I never shall,” her aunt said simply.
Jane’s heart warmed, and she smiled faintly. “For that, I am most grateful…” Her words trailed off as the coach gave a violent lurch and came to an abrupt halt.
Aunt Cosima peered out the window. “Now, why on earth have we stopped?”
Jane’s chest tightened. “Whatever the reason, it cannot be good. We are in the middle of nowhere.”
The coach door flew open, and Jane’s breath caught. Her brother stood there.
“Adam?” she whispered in disbelief. “What are you doing here?”
His hand shot out, clamping on to her arm. “What I should have done weeks ago,” he snarled, yanking her from the safety of the coach.
Aunt Cosima scrambled out after them, her voice sharp. “Unhand her this instant, young man!”
“I don’t think so, old woman,” Adam spat. “Jane is coming with me. She is going to marry the duke, just as she was meant to.”
“Absolutely not!” Jane cried, struggling against his iron grip. “I will not marry him!”
Adam’s fingers dug painfully into her arm. His smile was cruel. “How very sweet that you think you have a choice.”
From her reticule, Aunt Cosima produced a small muff pistol, her eyes blazing. “Release her, or I swear I will shoot you.”
Adam gave a derisive laugh, gesturing behind him. Two men stood there with their pistols raised. “Look about you. You are outnumbered and outgunned. One twitch of your finger, and you and Jane both die.”
“I could still shoot you first,” Aunt Cosima snapped.
“You could,” Adam agreed, “but then she would pay the price.”
Jane’s heart pounded. She saw the fire in her aunt’s eyes, the sheer determination, and she knew something reckless would happen if she did not intervene.
“It is all right, Aunt,” she said quickly, forcing calm into her voice though her stomach was knotted with dread.
“I will be fine.” The words tasted like lies.
Aunt Cosima hesitated, torn, then slowly lowered the pistol. “I will fetch help.”
“Try if you must,” Adam sneered, “but it will be too late. By the time you return, Jane will be the duke’s wife.”
As he began to drag her away, the sharp click of a cocked pistol cracked through the air.
Adam froze. “Do not do anything foolish, you piece of rubbish.”
“I won’t allow you to harm Jane,” Aunt Cosima vowed.
Jane turned her head, despite his brutal grip on her arm. “Please, put it down. I could not bear it if anything happened to you.”
“But, Jane, I promised you,” her aunt said, her voice breaking. “I swore no one would hurt you again.”
Jane forced a weak smile, desperate to ease her. “Do not worry. Remember—I have secret ninja skills.”
It was enough. Aunt Cosima’s hand faltered, and she lowered the pistol. “I will find a way to help you, my darling girl.”
“I know you will,” Jane whispered.
Adam jerked her towards another coach, each step filling her veins with dread. He shoved her inside, forcing her down onto the bench, then sat opposite, smugness radiating from every movement.
“You should be happy,” he said, his lips curling. “You are about to marry a duke.”
“I will not marry him,” Jane declared.
The back of his hand struck her cheek, sharp and stinging. “Oh, but you will. It amuses me that you still think you have any choice.”
“I can still say no,” she muttered, her cheek burning.
“Perhaps in London,” Adam said coldly. “But not where we are going. In Gretna Green, an anvil priest cares only for his fee.”
Jane’s heart plummeted. Gretna Green—the anvil priests would wed any couple that paid, consent or no.
Adam leaned back as the coach rattled onward, utterly satisfied. “How fortunate you were going to the country. It was near impossible to abduct you from Aunt Cosima’s townhouse.”
Her voice trembled. “Does Father know?”
Adam’s expression hardened. “He does. Though it took some persuading. He still hoped we could talk some sense into you. But this—this is quicker, cleaner.”
“And I am the sacrifice,” Jane said bitterly.
“You call it sacrifice, I call it salvation,” Adam retorted. “Your marriage to the duke will solve all our problems, though you are too selfish to see it.”
“Selfish?” Jane’s voice rose. “You mean it will line your pockets.”
Adam gave a careless shrug. “I never claimed it was fair. But truly, why protest? You will be a duchess.”
“I do not want to be a duchess.”
“Would you rather be a viscountess?” he mocked. “I have seen the way you look at Alcott. It is disgusting.”
Her throat tightened. “I do not want to be either.”
“Oh, are there cracks in the facade of your happiness together?” he taunted. “What has he done to earn your scorn?”
“Nothing.”
“Something, surely,” Adam pressed. “Did he take liberties with you?”
Jane’s lips thinned. “Alistair is a good and honorable man. He would never dishonor me in such a fashion.”
“Then what is it?”
Jane’s heart gave a painful throb, but she forced the words out. “If you must know, he offered for me.”
Adam barked a laugh. “Naturally. He did not want you when you were penniless, but now that you are an heiress—of course he does.”
“That is not true!” Jane cried. “He is not like that.”
“Regardless,” Adam said with chilling indifference, “once you wed the duke, he will pack our dear Aunt Cosima off to an asylum and petition for your inheritance.”
“Aunt Cosima is not mad.”
He gave a dismissive wave. “I could not care less.”
Her eyes widened. “You would allow her to be discarded? Forgotten? Thrown away?”
With a glance out the window, Adam’s face was as hard as stone. “There is no love lost between your precious aunt and me.”
“She is still your family,” Jane whispered, horrified.
His mouth twisted. “Cosima may share our blood, but she is no family of mine.”
Jane drew in a sharp breath, the enormity of his cruelty pressing upon her. “You are a monster.”
“You can call me what you want, but it is the truth,” Adam said. “I just wish I had thought of it before.”
“I won’t let you do it.”
Adam huffed. “And what are you going to do to stop me? You are just a worthless female. You have no real value.”
Jane’s gaze flicked towards the coach door, her heart thudding so violently that she thought Adam must surely hear it.
Could she jump? Could she fling herself out into the open road, and take her chances with the hard earth beneath the wheels?
The thought was madness, and yet… freedom, however fleeting, was better than the prison awaiting her.
Adam’s sharp eyes followed the direction of her glance. “Do not be foolish,” he snapped. “If you survive the fall, you will only be crushed beneath the coach wheels.”
“It would still be more preferable,” Jane stated, her voice trembling with conviction, “than marrying the duke.”
Adam let out a harsh laugh. “Good heavens, do you even hear the words spilling from your lips? You are about to be a duchess! The old curmudgeon will not live forever, and when he dies, you will inherit title, wealth, and consequence.”
“That is assuming I live long enough to enjoy it,” she muttered, almost to herself.
Her brother leaned forward, his face close enough that she could smell the bitter tang of brandy upon his breath. “All you must do is provide a son. That is your one duty. Do that, and you will be safe.”
“And if I bear a daughter?” she asked, already suspecting the answer.
His lips curved into a chilling smile. “Then it is your funeral, not mine.”
Jane stared at him, stunned by the casual cruelty in his words. Had there ever been a time he had truly cared for her? If there had, she could not recall it. All her life he had looked upon her with contempt, treating her as a burden, an inconvenience. She had been an afterthought to him, always.
Adam’s eyes flicked up and met hers. He scowled. “Do not look at me that way.”
Her brows knitted. “And how, pray tell, am I looking at you?”
“As though you are better than me,” he growled. “But you are wrong. I know my duty. You, with your fantastical notions, your silly ideas of what life should be—you are nothing but a dreamer.”
Jane clasped her hands tightly in her lap. “Do not make me do this,” she pleaded, her voice breaking despite her effort to sound strong.
“The deal is done,” he said flatly, as though sealing her fate.
Her eyes stung with tears she refused to shed. “Then undo it,” she whispered desperately. “Please, Adam. I beg you.”
His gaze hardened. “And why would I do that?” His tone was quiet now, deadly. “If it is ever a choice between you or me, I will always choose myself.”
In that moment, Jane understood—whatever bond of family she had clung to, whatever hope she had harbored that Adam might have some small measure of brotherly feeling left for her—it was gone. Perhaps it had never existed at all.