Chapter 4
Chapter Four
“Jane, if you tell me we’re doing this for fun, I may actually turn back,” Lady Wynten muttered as their carriage rolled through the gates of the Randley estate.
Jane didn’t look away from the window. The morning light slanted softly across the lawns, turning everything gold and impossibly calm, like the world hadn’t already cracked open around them.
“We’re not here for fun,” she said evenly. “We’re here because staying at home won’t fix anything.”
Her mother gave a tired sigh, adjusting her gloves. “After everything that’s happened… I don’t know if I have the strength for society.”
Jane finally turned to her. There was exhaustion there too, but she kept her voice steady.
“If we retreat, it’s exactly what Uncle Zachary wants,” she said. “He wants us isolated. Easier to erase. Easier to control.”
That name tightened the air between them. Lady Wynten pressed her lips together, then reached across the seat and squeezed Jane’s hand once.
“Then I suppose,” she said softly, “you will have to be brave enough for both of us.”
Jane blinked at that. Something in her chest shifted, sharp and warm and aching all at once. “I’ll try,” she said.
But “try” felt far too small for what she needed to do.
The garden party was already alive when they arrived, music drifting over trimmed hedges, laughter rising in careful waves, servants gliding between guests with trays of chilled lemonade and sparkling wine.
It looked, on the surface, exactly like any other summer gathering.
June had already softened into July heat, and the air felt thick with perfume and roses.
And whispers.
Jane felt them before she heard them. Eyes flicked toward her too quickly. Conversations dipped the moment she passed, then resumed in lower tones.
Kidnapping.
Scandal.
Wynten House.
Her brother’s name didn’t need to be spoken aloud to be everywhere.
Her mother straightened her spine anyway, chin lifted like she refused to be anything but composed.
Jane mirrored her.
“Stay close,” Jane murmured.
“I always do,” her mother replied.
They moved forward.
And Jane pretended she couldn’t feel the weight of every glance.
“Jane!”
Lavinia appeared like a burst of sunlight cutting through fog. She didn’t hesitate. She crossed the lawn and pulled Jane into a hug that was far too tight to be fitting in polite society.
Jane exhaled into it without realizing she needed to. “Lavinia,” she said, quieter than she meant to.
Her friend pulled back just enough to look at her face. Her expression shifted immediately, concern replacing brightness. “You look like you haven’t slept in a week.”
“I haven’t,” Jane admitted.
Lavinia swore under her breath. “If I find out who’s responsible for all of this, I will personally ruin them.”
A faint, almost startled laugh escaped Jane before she could stop it. “That list is getting quite long.”
“Good,” Lavinia said firmly. “It should be.”
She hooked her arm through Jane’s and guided her away from the main crowd with practiced ease, steering her toward a quieter stretch near the hedgerows.
For a moment, it felt almost normal. Then Lavinia’s voice dropped. “How bad is it?”
Jane hesitated. Then she told her. Not everything, but enough. Zachary’s threats. The tightening control over Wynten House. The way suitors were already beginning to vanish before they had even arrived.
And then, there was the one truth she couldn’t escape.
“If I don’t secure something,” Jane said carefully, “there won’t be anything left to secure for my mother when this is over. If it ever is over.”
Lavinia went very still. Then, loudly and without any care for propriety, she said, “That man is a festering disgrace.”
Jane blinked.
Lavinia pointed vaguely in the direction of the estate house. “Your uncle. I hope he chokes on his own arrogance.”
“Lavinia.”
“No,” her friend cut in. “No, I will not be polite about this. He is actively threatening you, Jane. That is not family. That is a vulture waiting for the body to fall.”
Something in Jane’s throat tightened. She looked away quickly so she wouldn’t have to feel it too sharply.
“I just need to fix it,” she said. “Find a husband. Secure stability. Then I can…”
“Then you can what?” Lavinia asked, softer now.
Jane didn’t answer because the truth was too big to say aloud.
Lavinia studied her for a long moment, then pulled her into another hug. “I’ll help you,” she said. “Whatever you need. You’re not doing this alone.”
Jane held on for a second longer than she meant to. “Thank you,” she said.
When they finally separated, Lavinia gave her a firm look. “And if any man here thinks your circumstances are an invitation to behave poorly, I will trip him into a hedge.”
Despite everything, Jane smiled, but it didn’t last long.
Back near the main lawn, the party had fully unfolded. Music. Laughter. The soft clink of glasses.
Jane and Lavinia rejoined the crowd near the refreshment table. Jane kept her posture steady, even as she felt the unease crawling under her skin again.
Lavinia leaned in slightly. “Drink something,” she murmured. “You look like you might faint purely out of spite.”
“I don’t faint,” Jane said automatically.
“That’s what they all say before they faint.”
Jane reached for a glass of lemonade.
A voice nearby said, “If I recall correctly, the Wynten situation has become quite… complicated.”
Jane’s fingers tightened slightly on the glass. She didn’t turn her head. Let them talk, she thought. Let them whisper until they were bored of it. But her stomach still knotted.
Across the lawn, the Duke of Sunderford stood surrounded by three gentlemen.
He looked like he belonged there in a way that made it feel like everyone else was visiting him. His posture was relaxed, yet Jane noticed everything about him too easily.
The way he listened instead of spoke, and the brief pauses before he answered. She saw the way the duke’s gaze flickered briefly across the lawn. Finding her.
Jane turned away quickly. Lavinia noticed immediately.
“What was that?” she asked.
“What was what?”
“That,” Lavinia said, nodding subtly. “That entire exchange. Why did the Duke of Sunderford just look at you like that?”
Jane’s grip tightened around her glass. “It wasn’t anything.”
Lavinia’s eyebrows rose. “That was not ‘nothing.’ That was… charged.”
Jane set the glass down harder than necessary. “He is simply involved in the same matter as we are,” she said crisply.
“And what matter is that?” Lavinia asked. “How is he involved in Colin’s disappearance?”
After a moment of hesitation, Jane said, “He came by Wynten House after Colin was taken to offer his help. His brother is missing as well, and the duke thinks that the two may be connected somehow.”
Lavinia’s mouth formed into a startled ‘O’ shape. “That’s certainly unexpected!”
“It is,” Jane agreed. “But the man does not have any interest in me beyond that.”
“And yet,” Lavinia said, far too casually, “he looks like a man who is personally offended by your existence in the best possible way.”
Jane shot her a look. “Lavinia…”
“What?” her friend said innocently. “I observe things.”
Jane exhaled slowly. “He is cold,” she said. “Calculating. He sees people as problems to solve.”
Lavinia tilted her head. “And yet he was perfectly civil just now. It was only a glance.”
“He is not a man worth analyzing,” she said, more sharply than she’d intended.
Lavinia hummed, unconvinced. “If you say so,” she said. Then, with a lighter tone, “Still, I could introduce you properly. He is a significant improvement over Maltby.”
That name made Jane stiffen. “Absolutely not. I mean, no. I don’t need introductions. I don’t want anything from him.”
Lavinia studied her carefully now. “Jane,” she said slowly, “you are doing that thing where you lie badly.”
“I am not.”
“You are.”
Jane turned slightly away, adjusting her gloves with precise care. “I have no interest in the duke,” she said.
Behind her, somewhere across the lawn, she felt rather than saw his presence again. It was like pressure in the air. Lavinia made a sound that suggested she did not believe a single word her friend had uttered.
“Well,” she said lightly, “that is a shame. Because he appears to have at least some interest in you.”
Jane’s breath caught before she could stop it. She hated that it did. She lifted her chin.
“I’m sure he does not,” she said. But her gaze drifted back toward him anyway.
And this time, when the Duke of Sunderford looked in her direction again, Jane did not look away fast enough.
“Tell me you didn’t actually enjoy the garden party.”
Ambrose, the Marquess of Redforth, lounged back in his chair like he owned the Duke of Sunderford’s drawing room, his boots crossed at the ankle, and a glass of brandy spinning lazily between his fingers.
It’d been several hours since the Randleys’ garden party, where Hector had spotted Lady Jane.
Hector didn’t look up from his drink. “I didn’t attend for enjoyment,” he said flatly.
“That is exactly what a man says when he enjoyed it immensely and refuses to admit it,” Ambrose replied.
Hector finally shot him a look. Ambrose grinned like he’d won something.
The room was quiet otherwise, late evening settling into the edges of the windows, candles burning low, the kind of comfortable silence that only existed between people who had known each other too long to pretend.
Hector took a slow sip. Ambrose watched him for a moment, then said, “So… Lady Jane Deverell.”
Hector’s hand paused mid-motion. Ambrose’s grin widened. “Oh,” he said. “That got your attention.”
Hector set the glass down with deliberate care. “Say what you mean.”
“I am,” Ambrose said lightly. “You’ve been staring at her like a man possessed.”
Hector exhaled through his nose. “This is not about her.”
Ambrose leaned forward slightly. “It’s always about her when you say it like that.”
“It’s about Evan,” Hector corrected sharply. “And her brother.”
“Mm,” Ambrose said, unconvinced. “And yet you look at Lady Jane like she’s personally responsible for all sins committed since the Treaty of Utrecht.”
Hector’s jaw tightened.
Ambrose took a sip of his drink. “She is quite beautiful, you know.”
That did it. Hector’s gaze snapped to him, a silent warning issuing forth.
Ambrose held up a hand. “I’m not blind. It’s a fact. Society notices things, even when you don’t want them noticed.”
Hector leaned back slightly, tension coiling under the surface of his composure. “This is not relevant.”
“Everything about her seems to be relevant to you,” Ambrose said mildly.
Hector’s voice dropped. “You are mistaken.”
Ambrose studied him for a long moment, then sighed dramatically. “I do love when you pretend you’re made of stone,” he said. “It’s very convincing. Right up until you start acting like a man who is absolutely fallible, like the rest of us mere mortals.”
Hector didn’t respond. But his silence said enough.
The next evening, Jane was halfway through unpinning her hair when Anna knocked softly on her chamber door.
“Come in,” Jane said, distracted.
Anna entered with the careful hesitation of someone carrying something far more important than it looked.
She held out a folded note. “This arrived for you, my lady.”
Jane frowned. “From whom?”
Anna hesitated just long enough that Jane already knew the answer before it was spoken. “The duke, my lady.”
Jane went still. The brush in her hand stopped moving entirely. She set it down carefully, as though any sudden movement might change the shape of the moment.
Then she reached for the note. “Thank you,” she said.
Anna lingered for half a second longer, clearly torn between curiosity and propriety, then retreated. The door clicked shut. Silence returned.
Jane unfolded the paper. Only a few lines.
Midnight. Quiet corner near Wynten House. Come alone.
No signature.
Jane stared at it for longer than she meant to. Then she folded it again. She was very aware of the fact that she was still holding her breath.
“Of course,” she murmured to herself.
Because of course she would go.
For Colin’s sake.