Chapter 19

19

With the finalstrokes of the music, Jane gave a curtsy and Richard a bow. During the quadrille, he’d never taken his burning eyes off her. And midway through, just as she’d stepped on his foot for the third time, mumbling an apology, his gaze had intensified so much she’d felt it scalding her skin.

No doubt, it was him regretting ever asking her to dance—how she must have embarrassed him in front of all these poised, beautiful, genteel people.

As the couples receded from the center of the room, he touched her elbow so that no one saw. “Follow me, Jane. I must talk to you.”

He was about to end their pretend relationship. Her poor social and dancing skills were not enough for him to bear being seen with her in society. “Why?” she asked.

He didn’t reply, just led her away, through the crowded room, and then into the darkness of the garden beyond the French doors.

It was a little chilly now, though Jane was so warm from jumping and moving around that she welcomed the fresh air. She went momentarily blind, moving from the light to the darkness. The only illumination in the garden came from the candlelit windows of the drawing room.

It was quieter here, the laughter, music, and chatter muffled by the walls of the house. She could hear leaves rustling slightly in the wind, and the scent of roses was more intense yet less overwhelming in the open space. She was alone with him, again, when she’d been trying to keep him at a distance. Why couldn’t she resist him?

And yet, she wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.

She was breathing hard, her dress suddenly feeling so constricting, the corset digging into her sides and under her breasts.

She looked up into his face. He was all dark, glistening eyes, and his broad chest rose and fell quickly, as well.

“Heavens, Jane,” he murmured. “Why do you look like that, begging for me to kiss you…”

She couldn’t quite believe she was hearing him say that after how clumsily she had danced and how awkwardly she had talked to his family and friends. There had been so many malicious, judging gazes directed at her by the other ladies present.

“Richard—”

“You’re magnificent,” he said. “I just wanted to tell you that. Do not let anyone dictate who you are and where you belong. You belong there.” He pointed at the light behind the doors. “But only if you want to.”

He took one step closer to her, enveloping her in his intoxicating, masculine scent. He backed her up against the wall of the house.

“What are you doing?” Her pulse drummed loudly in her ears. “We agreed…no touching…”

He nodded, his eyes impossibly wild. “And no kissing.” He bowed his head, his lips coming closer to hers. “Tell me you don’t want this. One word, and I’ll stop…”

She breathed, inhaling his clean scent. Tell him no. He is a rake…this is what he does. All of this means nothing to him…

But her lips couldn’t form a no. All they wanted to say was yes.

“Last chance, Jane…” He inched so close she could feel the warmth of his breath on her lips.

“Oh, blast…” she murmured.

He chuckled and gave a soft, satisfied male smile. And then he did exactly what she promised herself and him they would never do again. Exactly what Thorne would kill him for. Exactly what would ruin her if anyone saw them, even if he was her fiancé.

He wrapped his magnificent, hard arms around her and kissed her.

His lips were so warm and so soft and brushed against hers with such delicious pressure, it melted her being. He felt so good against her, she couldn’t think of anything else. Just the simple feel of his lips was enough to have heat rush through her in a scorching wave.

The slight burn of his short stubble, his strong arms holding her to him like a treasure, the scent of him, wanton and masculine, made her forget everything…

Made her want more.

But she shouldn’t.

Remember, you wanted to avoid exactly this?

“Richard—” she tried, mumbling against his lips.

“Hmmm?” he responded, never taking his lips from hers.

“We can’t do this, Richard,” she said. “I told you…”

“But you want to.” He brushed his knuckles against her skin. “Fiancée…”

The sound of music came from behind the French doors. Just a few steps, and someone could come out. And then she would really need to marry him, and that would ruin any chance of building a proper school in Whitechapel.

“That’s exactly it. I’m not your fiancée. We’re just pretending, lying to the world, but we both know we’re not going to marry.”

His eyes became so intense, and a shiver ran through her. His gaze dropped to her lips and then lower. “That doesn’t have to stop us from enjoying each other’s company.”

She shook her head and wriggled out of his embrace, walking away from him and into the darkness of the garden. The fire from the garden torch illuminated his tall, muscular figure clad in the clothes of a gentleman.

“I don’t want to fall for your charms. If anyone comes through that door”—she pointed to the doors behind which ladies and gentlemen danced and mingled—“you will be forced to do something you don’t want to do…marry me.”

He stiffened and his gaze shifted, the corners of his eyes tightening in an expression of pain. His lips parted but no sound emerged.

Shock washed over Jane. There was someone!

She looked over her shoulder but saw only an empty bench with a rosebush on either side. She peered into the darkness, trying to decipher if there was someone in the shadows. When she glanced at Richard, his eyes were filled with pain and regret.

“What is it?” she asked, moving closer.

He chuckled and shook his head slowly, moving past her and stopping a few steps away from the bench. “You’re right. We shouldn’t have come into the garden. I wasn’t thinking… It happened here in this exact spot.”

“What did?” she asked as she watched his broad back.

“Lady Charity.”

Jane’s gaze swept over the weathered bench, realization hitting her like a club.

“Do you mean that was where you saw her with her lover?”

He nodded. She came to stand by his side and looked up at him. His profile was in darkness, his gaze wide and haunted.

She bit her lip. “She didn’t deserve you. Betraying someone like you… I can’t imagine any woman doing that.”

He turned to her, his eyes big and intent on her.“She didn’t deserve me…?” he repeated, his voice cracking. “Jane, you have no idea how much that means to me…”

Jane could see the pain and hurt in Richard’s eyes. She wanted to comfort him, to take away his pain, but she didn’t know how.

“Only,” he said, “I did not think that I deserved her. I blamed myself. I thought I was too agreeable. That she found me boring. Men like my brothers—mysterious, commanding, always ready for a fight—were more interesting.

“My whole life I felt like I was hiding in the shadows of the two handsome older brothers that everyone talked about. They were the center of attention. Spencer, brilliant and charming. Preston, brooding and mysterious. I was always a shoulder to cry on. If my brothers weren’t available for a dance, I was.”

Jane’s heart broke as she imagined that younger version of Richard. Shyer. Calmer. Sweeter. Someone to whom she could take an immediately liking.

“She was perfect.” He took three slow steps towards the bench and sat down. “An angel the whole ton talked about. The diamond of the Season, the clearest of purity. And she chose me. Me, who’d never been as dashing as either of my older brothers, who’d always been the peacemaker in the family. The responsible one, the wise one, the boring one.”

And Jane would have liked that version of him just the same. The responsible one, the wise one, the boring one… The latter was not true. But the first two spoke to what he was in his very core.

She could describe herself in the exact same way.

Wise. Responsible. Boring.

“And then she entered,” he said as he watched her approach the bench and take a seat by his side. “The debutante everyone talked about, with her perfect skin, big eyes, and thick strawberry hair. Everyone wanted her. She would have made a highly successful match for any eligible bachelor. But she picked me.”

He chuckled. “I couldn’t believe it. I dreamed of her. All I could think about was her. Everything I could talk about was her. I proposed and she accepted. Her papa was quite happy, too. The wedding was set to be in two months. She was my first and only love. I was flying on wings.”

Jane hated it. Hated hearing he had loved someone else. And here she had thought the rake he was now was incapable of love. That all he wanted were conquests.

She swallowed hard. “Do you think she loved you back?”

He met her gaze and blinked. “I thought so back then, yes. But now I realize I don’t think she loved me at all. I should have noticed that our conversations were stilted. That she smiled and looked just as much into other men’s eyes as she did mine…and one man in particular.”

“Who was he?”

“Viscount Simpson. As dashing as one of my brothers. It was during Lady Brewster’s soirée right here. I walked into the garden looking for her, and I found her. Sitting on this bench, in his arms”—his pained eyes met hers, as deep and bottomless as a well—“kissing him. His hand was on her breast, something I’d never have dared to do, afraid to dishonor the woman I loved.”

He cleared his throat. It pained her to hear of him being hurt like that. If Jane had seen him with another woman… Just imagining him that way felt like a piece of broken glass stuck deep in her heart.

“Shocked, I watched another man holding my betrothed in his arms,” continued Richard. “When they saw me, she said nothing. She didn’t deny it. Didn’t plead. She didn’t even look guilty. ‘I will marry her, Lord Richard,’ said Simpson. ‘The engagement is over between us,’ said Lady Charity. Perhaps I was just someone she used to get Simpson. I never found out. I never wanted to. I wasn’t good enough for her.”

He swallowed, and Jane laid her hand on his, large and warm. He turned his palm over to hers, and they laced their fingers together. The touch was soothing and comforting. Friendly.

She saw it in his eyes. The decision he must have taken then. “Was that when you decided you’d never marry?”

“It was. To show Lady Charity, my brothers, the whole ton—but mostly, to show myself—that I wasn’t a rug to walk all over, I became just like Simpson. Like my brothers. I learned to shut down that young man who was shy and friendly and honorable. I copied my brothers and did what they did, talked like they talked, dressed like they dressed. Soon, I was another seducer. An irresponsible rake. I took lovers—bored, unloved wives, widows in need of male attention, spinsters who knew what they were doing. I went to whorehouses. All to drown myself in female attention, to forget that my heart still bled and ached.”

Imagining him in the arms of so many women made her stomach sick.

As though reading her thoughts, he frowned. He gently pressed his finger under her chin and lifted it. Making her gaze meet his. “Forgive me. Perhaps I should not talk about that. But I promise you, ever since I came into that school of yours and got mud smudged over my clothes, there has been no one. I haven’t looked at anyone but you.”

Warmth spilled through her veins like sunshine. She shook her head, hiding a smile. “It’s your past. I want to know you. All of you. What made you…you. The way I see it, it was Lady Charity’s biggest mistake to have lost you.”

He chuckled and shook his head slowly. “Miss Jane Grant, what am I going to do with you?”

Jane bit her lip, her heart pounding. “And so that you know, there’s nothing boring about you. You’re quite…fascinating.”

“Fascinating” wasn’t even the right word. Yes, he infuriated her at times. Yes, he made her feel like he understood her and then betrayed her.

But he also made her feel present. He made her feel alive.

And whatever he did, he never made her feel alone.

She wanted to decipher him, understand him, learn every little thing about him. He was contradictions. He was so gorgeous he could have any woman he wanted, and yet deep inside, he was shy. He was a rake, and yet he had loved with all his heart. He had such a warm, adoring family, and yet he felt lonely because he thought he was different. He had the money, influence, and time to do anything in the world, and yet, he felt useless.

If only he could see himself the way she saw him…

“Fascinating?” He chuckled and brushed his knuckles against her cheek. “I’m not fascinating at all, sweet girl, but thank you for saying that.”

“You are…to me.”

His gaze warmed even more.

“I’m just trying to say,” she said, “do not let a woman who didn’t deserve you ruin the rest of your life. Not that I know anything about love…”

And yet, something told her she may know more about it than she had thought…

His face relaxed, was suddenly soft; the trace of that pain he had told her about was gone. “I never told the details of what transpired with Lady Charity to anyone, nor how they impacted me,” he said. “Calliope knew some of it, but she was too young, and I couldn’t talk to her about that. My brothers saw my pain, but their way of helping was to take me to brothels and make me forget.”

“But this…” He raised their interlaced hands and planted a kiss on the back of hers, sending a thrill through her. “Just talking to someone who listens. Who understands… Who thinks it was not my fault… That love—”

He stopped talking, a hint of fear suddenly clouding his gaze.

“That love what?” she asked softly.

He looked at the dark ground. “Nothing.”

“What is it?” She reached to his face and laid her hand on his jaw, turning him to her. “Please, tell me.”

His dark gaze met hers, and there were no shields, no walls, and no barriers. There was a young man, hopeful and unhurt and vulnerable, perhaps just like when Lady Charity had met him.

“Mama and Papa loved each other, after all. They were so happy, Jane. As a child, I thought all families were supposed to be like that. I was sure my own family would be one day.”

She was sinking into his beautiful eyes. Her heart fluttered in her throat like a little bird. A question was born in that fluttering bird-heart…a question she was dying to ask but was terrified to.

And still, it broke through, as though not spoken by her own mouth. “Do you believe love would be possible for you once again?”

He didn’t reply for so long, she thought an eternity must have passed.

In a rasping voice, he said, “I’m starting to believe that it might.”

Jane nodded, shaking—and not from cold.

The fluttering bird-heart in her throat prayed, wished, sang a beautiful but impossible vision of the future, where that person he saw himself with was her.