Chapter 3 #3
Jane pressed on before he could shut her down. “If we continue separately, we will miss things. We already have. The ledger proved that.”
The duke’s jaw tightened slightly at that. Jane took a small step closer. “You would not have recognized Foxglove,” she said.
“I would have found its meaning,” he replied immediately.
“How, precisely? I told you it was a game that only Colin and I knew about.”
His jaw tensed.
Jane continued, more quietly now, but with conviction. “And I would not have known where to begin in a place like that without you.”
The duke did not respond immediately. The tension between them shifted again. Jane held her ground.
Finally, he said, “You will do as I say when danger is involved.”
It was not phrased as a request. Jane hesitated only a moment before nodding. “Agreed.”
His gaze remained on her for a second longer than necessary, as if confirming she meant it. He said, “And you will not act independently in situations you do not understand.”
Jane’s lips pressed together. “I understand more than you think.”
“That is what worries me,” he said flatly.
Jane let out a breath, then nodded once. “Fine.”
The duke’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Fine?”
“I will do as you say when danger is involved,” she clarified. “And I will not act recklessly without informing you. Happy?”
He did not answer the question. Instead, he said, “You can send messages to me through your maid. Is she trustworthy?”
Jane nodded. “Anna is discreet.”
At the mention of a name, the duke’s gaze flickered briefly; an acknowledgment of logistics, rather than trust.
“She will pass notes,” Jane continued. “Anything you find. Anything I find.”
Then the duke said, “I will send instructions to my staff.”
Jane nodded once. “And when you are ready for the next step, you will contact me.”
His gaze sharpened slightly. “You are giving instructions now?”
“I am establishing structure,” she corrected.
The corner of his mouth twitched, barely there, but unmistakable. “Very well,” he said.
Jane exhaled slightly, as if she had just won a point she had not expected to win. “And it will be less noticeable if you trail behind me.”
The duke blinked once. “Excuse me?”
“In a carriage,” she clarified quickly. “Not walking behind me like some sort of escort. That would be worse. If I leave first, and you follow at a distance, no one will associate us.”
“That is your solution,” he said slowly.
“It is a logical one.”
He studied her for a moment longer. “It is unconventional.”
“So are you,” she replied immediately.
That earned another pause. This time, the duke did not argue. Instead, after a long moment, he gave a single, reluctant nod. “Very well,” he said. “Carriage at a distance.”
Jane exhaled, satisfied in spite of herself. “Good.”
Without waiting for further objection, she turned away from him.
The decision, once made, felt strangely stabilizing, as if structure had been imposed on chaos. She returned to where she had left her horse.
The animal shifted slightly as she approached, sensing her tension. Jane stroked its neck briefly, grounding herself in something physical, something simple.
Behind her, she heard the faint sound of movement. The duke’s carriage was being prepared somewhere nearby, quietly and discreetly, exactly as he had promised.
Jane mounted her horse. For a moment, she hesitated. Then she glanced back.
The duke stood near the edge of the alley, partially obscured by shadow. He was watching her with the kind of attention that made her acutely aware of being seen.
Jane straightened slightly in the saddle, refusing to acknowledge the effect it had on her.
Then she turned forward and rode.
The streets of London opened around her again as she left the alley behind. The night had deepened, the gas lamps now brighter against the dark, casting long reflections on wet stone.
She did not look back at first. But she felt him behind her. The presence of the carriage at a careful, deliberate distance. Never close enough to be linked. Never far enough to be lost—as if the duke had decided that she would not be dismissed after all.
Jane kept her gaze forward, her grip steady on the reins. Eventually, her street came into view. Wynten House.
She dismounted quickly, moving with practiced silence, leading her horse toward the side entrance rather than the front. The household would not question her returning at this hour if she was discreet enough.
A servant would not be stationed here. Once she had secured her horse in the stable, she slipped inside through the back door. The house was asleep, or pretending to be.
Jane moved through the corridors carefully, removing her cloak as she went, folding it over her arm. Every sound felt amplified: the soft creak of floorboards, the distant ticking of a clock, her own breathing.
She reached her room without interruption. Only once inside did she allow herself to exhale fully. She crossed to the window almost immediately. Outside, the street was quiet. But there it was. The duke’s carriage stood across the street.
Jane stepped closer to the glass. For a moment, she could not see inside clearly. Then there was a faint shift. And she realized, with a slight tightening in her chest, that the duke was looking out, directly toward her window.
Even at this distance in the dark, their eyes met, and Jane felt something unfamiliar pass through her. Something between fear and comfort.
She did not move.
Then, after a moment that felt longer than it should have, the carriage began to move. Slowly at first.
She watched it leave as it turned into the street, disappearing into the night.