Chapter 20 #2
“They killed Father!” Jules roared, his voice raw and jagged. “How can you stand to let these men live?”
“Easily,” Rosalie shot back. “Considering I went from one prison to the next with you. You never gave me a choice.”
Jules’s eyes all but bled hatred. “Don’t do this, Rosalie.”
“It is too late,” she responded. “It is done.”
The words seemed to echo in the charged silence. Then Rupert moved swiftly to the door, yanking it open. A flood of men surged inside, pistols drawn, all trained on Jules.
“Now who is outgunned, outmanned, and outwitted?” Rupert said with a mocking edge, satisfaction blazing in his eyes. He seized Jules by the arm, twisting it forcefully behind his back. “There are many people waiting to talk to you.”
“You may as well shoot me now,” Jules declared. “I will never tell you anything.”
Rupert grinned. “We shall see.”
Alistair stood rigid, his pulse still hammering, as Rupert marched Jules out of the chamber, surrounded on all sides by armed men. The door closed behind them, leaving him alone with Rosalie.
His eyes met hers, and disbelief warred with gratitude in his chest. “Thank you for what you did,” he said.
She lowered her pistol until it hung limp at her side. “Now we are even.”
“No, you are wrong,” Alistair countered. “You saved Jane. I owe you everything.”
Rosalie’s gaze softened for the briefest of moments. “It was wrong that Jules tried to kill her,” she murmured. “I could not stand by and let that happen. She was an innocent.”
“Jules would say you were wrong,” Alistair answered. “He would call her guilty by association.”
Her lips twisted faintly, sorrow bleeding through her composure. “My brother is not always right.”
Alistair slid his pistol back into his waistband, studying her. “How can I show my gratitude?”
Her voice was solemn, almost weary. “All I ask is that you forget about me.”
“How could I do that?”
“Because I had a job to do, and it is over,” Rosalie said. Her eyes seemed older than her years, filled with secrets he could not fathom. “I can finally go home now.”
Realization dawned on him. “Was your job to take down your brother?”
She said nothing. Instead, she turned, moving past him with silent grace. At the threshold, she paused, then looked back over her shoulder.
“Thank you for setting me free,” she said.
And then she was gone, leaving Alistair rooted to the spot. He thought about running after her and asking questions that he had no right to ask. But he let her go instead. He had far more important things to attend to now.
Jane sat alone in the drawing room, the hush of night pressing about her, and the moonlight pouring through the tall windows.
She should have been in bed hours ago, but sleep would not come.
Not when Alistair was somewhere in the dark streets of London, facing peril that could very well rob her of him forever.
A forgotten book rested beside her on the settee.
She had not read a single line, her mind too restless.
What use were novels when reality held her heart in such torment?
The question circled endlessly—what if Alistair did not return?
What would she do with the love she had not yet spoken aloud?
For she did love him—deeply, desperately—and no misfortune, not even death itself, could lessen it.
The quiet broke when her aunt’s gentle voice carried across the chamber. “You should be in bed, my dear.”
Jane turned. Aunt Cosima stood framed in the doorway, her cap ribbons swaying slightly as she approached her niece.
“Yes, I should,” Jane admitted. “But I cannot still my thoughts.”
“And what thoughts keep you awake?”
Jane drew in a breath. She could no longer pretend, not even to herself. “That I love Alistair.”
Her aunt settled beside her on the settee, her expression thoughtful. “You know I do not approve of him. If you wed him, you will cease to be my heir.”
Jane lifted her chin, her voice steady. “I know. But if he offers, I will accept. I cannot go on living my life for others.”
“Even at the risk of losing your inheritance?”
“Yes,” Jane said without hesitation. Her chest ached with the truth of it.
“I do not know why you disapprove of Alistair. He is the only man who has ever seen me as myself. He is kind, loving, and asks nothing of me but to be who I am. I could never unlove him—not if I tried, not even if you forced me. When we are apart, I feel half-lost.”
Aunt Cosima studied her for a long moment before her lips curved into a broad smile. “I am glad to hear you speak with such conviction. You and Lord Alcott do suit.”
Jane blinked. “Then… why do you not approve?”
Her aunt waved a dismissive hand. “I wished you to fight for him. To discover for yourself that he is the one you cannot live without.”
“So you do approve?”
Her aunt gave her a sidelong look. “Does it truly matter if I do?”
“No,” Jane whispered. “Not anymore.”
Her aunt touched her sleeve gently. “That is what I wanted to hear. You remain my heir, no matter whom you choose. I love you, Jane, and I hope you know I only want your happiness.”
Emotion pricked Jane’s eyes. “Truly?”
“Truly. And I do believe Alistair loves you as well.”
Her heart leapt. “You think so?”
“I do, assuming he survives the night.”
Jane pressed her lips together against the fear rising in her throat. “He will. He must. I cannot imagine life without him.”
Understanding softened her aunt’s gaze. “I felt the same when my husband died. The grief threatened to consume me. I only survived by taking one day—sometimes one hour—at a time. The ache never vanishes, but one learns to breathe again.”
Jane clasped her aunt’s hand. “I am sorry.”
A tear slipped down Cosima’s cheek. “When you give everything to one person—your heart, your soul—a part of you feels missing when they die. Even now, the tears come when I think of him.”
“I hope I find a love as deep as yours.”
Her aunt squeezed her hand. “I believe you already have.”
Just then, a knock came at the door. She turned, and there he was—Alistair—standing at the threshold. He was alive. He was here.
“May I speak to Jane privately?” he asked.
Cosima inclined her head. “You may. I shall wait in the entry hall for propriety’s sake.”
Jane nearly laughed at the word propriety—how little it mattered in this moment.
When the door closed behind her aunt, Alistair crossed the room and sat beside Jane. “How are you?”
She lifted her brow. “How am I? I am far more concerned about you.”
A smile touched his lips. “We got him.”
Her breath stilled. “You captured Jules?”
“Yes. He will spend the rest of his life in prison, if he even survives the interrogation,” Alistair informed her. “Which means—you are safe now.”
She reached for his gloved hand, boldly twining her fingers with his. “We are safe now.”
“Yes,” he agreed, his eyes dark with something she had not dared hope for. “And now… I have something important to ask you.”
Her heart pounded in her chest so hard that she thought he must hear it. “Yes?”
He faltered, uncharacteristically hesitant. “Lady Jane… would you consider allowing me to court you?”
“Court me?” she repeated, disappointment flickering. She had hoped for more.
“I know it is sudden—”
She cut him off. “Yes.”
Relief softened his features. “I feared you sounded disappointed at the notion of courtship.”
“I am disappointed,” she admitted.
“Oh.”
Her grip on his hand tightened. “Only because I hoped you would offer for me.”
“You did?”
She nodded, willing her courage to hold. “I love you, Alistair. I would marry you today, tomorrow, or any day after. I need no courtship to know you are the man I belong with.”
He grinned. “I love you, too, Jane. I have loved you for some time, but I feared the danger I carried into your life.”
“That never mattered,” she assured him. “It’s you. In a thousand lifetimes, in a hundred different ways, it would still be you. It will always be you.”
His hand lingered in hers as he lowered himself to one knee. The sight stole her breath, for never had she imagined such solemn reverence directed at her. “Lady Jane, will you do me the grand honor of marrying me?”
“Yes,” she said. “Yes, a million times yes.”
He lifted their joined hands and pressed a fervent kiss to her fingers. “I can secure a special license tomorrow, if you wish.”
She smiled through her tears. “I would wish it. Three weeks feels far too long to wait to marry the man I love.”
His eyes closed briefly. “I do not think I will ever tire of hearing you say that. But now—it is time I kiss you properly.”
Her lips curved. “I suppose I could allow that.”
He stood and leaned close, brushing her cheeks with tender kisses before his breath warmed her lips.
She closed the distance, pouring all her love into the kiss.
His lips, at first gentle, soon grew more insistent as his arms wrapped around her, holding her as if he would never let her go.
And in that moment, Jane knew—this was the beginning of forever.
The door swung open with a creak, and Aunt Cosima’s voice sliced through the stillness of the drawing room. “Unhand my niece, my lord.”
Jane startled, heat rushing to her cheeks. Yet she could not bring herself to feel guilty. Not when her heart was so full.
Alistair leaned back slightly, though he made no effort to remove his hand from hers. “Jane has agreed to marry me,” he announced.
“She had better,” Aunt Cosima huffed, sweeping farther into the room, “or else I would have had no choice but to challenge you to a duel myself.”
Alistair chuckled. “I would have liked to see that,” he remarked, amusement glinting in his eyes. “Shall we retire to bed?”
Before Jane could answer, Aunt Cosima interjected sharply, “Separate bedchambers, I trust, is what you meant.”
“Yes, separate bedchambers,” Alistair replied. “For now.”
Aunt Cosima sniffed. “Perhaps Jane will sleep in my chamber tonight. As a precaution.”
Jane rose, still holding Alistair’s hand, and together they walked towards the doorway.
“I will ride out first thing tomorrow to acquire a special license,” Alistair said in a hushed voice. “If I have my way, we shall be married by noon.”
Jane’s heart swelled so greatly she thought it might burst. “I have no objections.”
And she meant it with every fiber of her being. She wanted nothing more than to be his wife, to stand at his side in every triumph and every trial. Alistair would always be her once-in-a-lifetime.