Chapter 19
Jane felt utterly helpless as she stood outside her own bedchamber door.
Her palms itched with the need to push it open, yet all she could do was stand there.
The low murmur of Lord Rupert’s voice reached her, but the words blurred together, muffled beyond her understanding.
The uncertainty gnawed at her. What was happening to Marie?
“I should go in there,” Jane stated, the urgency spilling out before she could stop herself.
Alistair’s steady hand brushed her sleeve as he shook his head. “Let Rupert do what he does best.”
Her brow furrowed. “And what, pray tell, is that?”
“He has a particular set of skills for… acquiring information,” Alistair replied carefully.
She blinked, incredulous. “You mean torture?”
“If the situation warrants it.” His voice held a grim weight, the kind of tone that made her stomach twist.
“And you just stand by and let it happen?” she asked.
Alistair exhaled slowly. “I know it sounds awful, but if your maid knows anything about Jules, we must hear it.”
“But what if she doesn’t?”
“Regardless, she did murder a man,” Alistair reminded her. “She is not an innocent in all of this.”
Before Jane could form a reply, a scream tore through the door, high and piercing. Jane’s blood froze. Her hand shot to the latch, her whole body leaning forward to rush in, but Alistair stepped swiftly between her and the door, his chest blocking her path.
“It will be all right, Jane,” he murmured.
Her heart thudded. “How?” she asked, her voice cracking. “Lord Rupert is hurting her.”
Alistair had no answer, only silence that deepened the ache inside her.
Moments later, the door opened. Lord Rupert emerged, composed, his expression guarded. “Marie doesn’t know Jules’s whereabouts,” he reported, “but she can summon someone who does.”
Jane’s gaze darted past him. Marie sat slumped on the edge of the bed, clutching her arm to her chest, her face pale and wet with tears. Jane’s heart squeezed with pity and unease.
“How?” Alistair asked flatly.
“She will hang a sheet from the clothing line,” Rupert explained. “A particular signal, requesting Jules’s messenger.”
Alistair frowned. “And how can we be certain she won’t betray us?”
“Trust me,” Lord Rupert said, his voice devoid of warmth. “She fears me more than Jules just now.”
Jane shivered at his words, torn between relief and horror. Lord Rupert had revealed a side of himself she had not fully seen before—controlled, dangerous, and wholly unyielding. Yet strangely, she did not fear him.
“Come along,” Rupert ordered, motioning sharply to Marie. “Put the sheet up. We will wait for the man to show.”
Marie staggered to her feet, tears streaking her face. “And if he does not come?”
“Let’s hope that doesn’t happen… for your sake,” Rupert retorted.
Jane swallowed hard. She wanted to tell Rupert he was being cruel, but the weight of Alistair’s earlier words pressed against her. Marie was not innocent. She had lured Luke to his death and had profited from it.
“Will Jules come himself?” Alistair asked.
Marie shook her head. “Never. He sends others. I only met him once.”
Compassion stirred in Jane despite herself. “Why did you betray us, Marie?” she asked, more out of curiosity than anything else.
Marie’s shoulders sagged, her voice breaking. “He threatened my family. Said he would kill them if I refused.”
“And he told you to kill the guard?”
The maid’s gaze fell to the floor. “He told me to do whatever it took to keep the man from returning to his post. I had no choice.”
Alistair’s hand brushed gently against the small of Jane’s back. “Everyone has a choice,” he said firmly. “You could have come to me.”
Marie’s chin lifted, her eyes glistening. “And what of my family? You could not protect them.”
“I would have tried,” Alistair responded.
“You do not understand,” Marie whispered. “Jules has spies everywhere. His reach is too strong.”
Rupert scoffed. “Jules Leclerc is only a man. You give him far too much power by immortalizing him.”
Marie’s lips trembled. “Or perhaps you underestimate him.”
Before Jane could dwell further, the butler approached them with his calm, measured voice. “The constable is here, my lords.”
Alistair inclined his head. “Tell him we will attend him shortly.”
Seizing Marie’s arm, Rupert ordered, “Let us go. And if you even attempt to flee, I shall shoot you where you stand.”
Marie flinched. “You promised leniency if I helped. Do you mean it?”
“I gave you my word,” Rupert replied. “But I cannot speak for the magistrate.”
“I understand,” Marie said, sounding weary and broken.
Jane followed Alistair as Rupert dragged Marie outside to the courtyard.
Her chest tightened as she watched Marie stumble to the basket of laundry, her hands trembling as she pinned a white sheet to the line.
The cloth fluttered faintly in the breeze, an innocent-looking flag that might summon a monster.
“Now we wait,” Marie informed them.
“How long do you typically wait?” Rupert asked.
“He will come at dusk,” she answered.
“You did your part,” Rupert said. “But you still must face justice.”
Marie bowed her head. “I understand.”
As Rupert led her away to the constable, Jane’s heart squeezed painfully. “I feel badly for her,” she admitted in a hushed voice to Alistair.
His expression was somber, yielding no sort of sympathy for Marie’s plight. “She chose to kill Luke.”
“True, but Jules threatened her family. I cannot fault her for wanting to protect them.”
Alistair’s hand found hers briefly. “You have a merciful heart, Jane. But actions bear consequences.”
She grew quiet. “Do you think she will be hung?”
“I will speak in her favor,” he said. “But the decision rests with the magistrate.”
Jane nodded, though her heart was heavy.
Before she could speak again, a voice rang out from across the courtyard.
“There you are,” a man called.
Jane turned sharply. Lord Luca approached, a worn satchel slung across his shoulder, his expression unusually earnest.
“What do you want?” Alistair asked warily.
Unperturbed, Lord Luca lowered his voice as he drew near. “I overheard a most interesting conversation at The Tipsy Badger tavern. It was about Jules Leclerc.” His eyes flicked between them. “And, Alcott, your name was mentioned more than once.”
Alistair’s shoulders stiffened. “What did you hear?”
Lord Luca’s expression was grave. “You have made a powerful enemy out of Jules, and he intends to see you dead.”
Alistair looked unimpressed by Lord Luca’s declaration. “I know all of this,” he replied with unnerving composure.
But Luca pressed on. “Yes, but I followed one of the men I overheard discussing you. He led me to a townhouse in Mayfair, well-guarded, men patrolling the gardens as if they were soldiers on a battlefield. I believe Jules Leclerc resides there.”
Alistair’s eyes sharpened. “How can you be so sure?”
“Why else would there be armed guards in the gardens of a London townhouse?” Lord Luca asked.
“Did anyone see you?” Alistair asked.
“No,” Luca answered. “I know how to be discreet.”
“Have you told anyone else?”
“I have not,” Luca said, shifting the satchel on his shoulder. “But I would not advise going alone. If you intend to confront Jules, I would bring a small army.”
Alistair’s brow arched. “Why are you telling me this? Why not simply print it in your newssheets?”
Luca’s mouth curved into a humorless smile. “Because some things are more important than a story. I have been watching, Alcott, and you deserve to know the truth.” He lowered his voice. “And I assume you will not move against Jules without Warwicke at your side.”
“I would be mad to,” Alistair replied.
Luca nodded, seeming satisfied. “Warwicke is a competent man. I have trusted him with my life more than once.”
Jane glanced between the two men. “Does this mean we no longer need to leave the sheet up?” she asked.
“No,” Alistair said. “We still need to speak to Jules’s man, to gain more precise information about the townhouse. But you need not worry.”
“How can I not?” she asked. “You want to walk into the jaws of death, Alistair. He is surrounded by guards. And he wants you dead.”
Lord Luca cleared his throat. “I believe that is my cue to take my leave.” He handed Alistair a folded paper. “This is the address in Mayfair. I wish you luck because you are going to need it.”
“Thank you,” Alistair said, tucking it away before turning to Jane. His gaze softened, breaking through her fear. “I promise you that I will come back to you.”
“You cannot promise that. It is not fair to me.”
He cupped her cheek. “Jane… here I am, infinitely yours. Every day for all the days. I choose you.”
Her heart soared. What did he mean by such a declaration? Emboldened, she asked, “What are you saying, Alistair?”
“I lo—”
His words were cut off by Rupert’s voice. “Marie is now in the custody of the constable,” he announced.
Alistair dropped his hand at once, his expression shuttering as he turned towards Rupert. “I have the address where Jules is staying.”
Rupert’s eyes narrowed. “How did you acquire that?”
“From Lord Luca,” Alistair replied, passing him the paper.
Rupert glanced down. “I know this place. It once belonged to the Baroness Amberleigh. Solidly built, heavily fortified.” He paused, his eyes calculating. “I will return before dusk to question anyone who comes for Marie’s signal.”
“Where are you going?” Alistair asked.
Rupert’s eyes grew guarded. “It is best you do not know.” Without another word, he strode away.
Before Jane could gather her thoughts, Aunt Cosima swept into the courtyard, relief softening her features. “There you are. I have been looking everywhere.”
Jane forced a small smile. “Here I am.”
“Your breakfast is getting cold,” her aunt scolded lightly, reaching for her hand. “I cannot have you wither away and die.”
“No one wants that,” Jane murmured, though her mind was far from food.
“Then let us return to the dining room.”