Chapter 31

31

During the dance,she never stumbled, never stepped on his toes. They just flew. A few times, she glanced at Calliope, curious to see her with her dance partner. They were a dashing couple, Calliope and Kelford. She in her golden-yellow gown and he in his dark blue coat with the collar and lapels trimmed in gold braid and the cuffs embellished with gold buttons. His blond hair was tied in a tail at the base of his head. Like a lion and a lamb, their eyes never tore away from each other. Calliope’s face was flushed, practically burning with some emotion. Jane had never seen the usually calm and collected Calliope affected like that.

When the dance ended, Richard accompanied Jane through the crowd of guests to the group that almost felt like her second family now. Sebastian and Emma, Preston and Penelope, all smiling warmly at her as though she were an old friend or, indeed, their sister.

With Penelope was a beautiful woman in her fifties, wearing a sapphire-colored gown, who stood next to a tall, balding man. He was dressed very richly, his dark waistcoat sitting well on his still-athletic body. His strikingly blue, narrowly set eyes under stern eyebrows held a cold intensity.

“Miss Grant,” said Penelope as she gestured to the lady and the gentleman. “Allow me to introduce the Duke and the Duchess of Ashton.”

“Pleased to meet you,” said Jane. She didn’t have the same feeling of awkwardness and shyness anymore. Another duke and duchess, and yet, she didn’t feel like she wanted to run away and cower.

“The pleasure is ours,” said the duchess with a graceful smile.

“The duchess is a patroness of my art,” said Penelope. “Very kindly.”

“Excuse me,” the Duke of Ashton said and left the group.

As Jane followed him with her gaze, a little surprised at his abrupt departure, she saw that he joined an overweight man with a large belly who wore a black velvet coat heavily embroidered with gold braid. As Ashton said something to him, the man threw his head back and laughed, his long, sharp nose pointing in the air.

“The prince regent…” she murmured.

Richard followed her gaze. “Yes, it’s His Highness.”

The Duke of Ashton and the Prince of Wales were joined by a man in his fifties in a navy uniform with golden epaulets with intricate embroidery featuring stars. Smiling pleasantly to the prince and to the duke, he bowed. Three gold stripes on the sleeves of his uniform coat, indicating he was an admiral, flashed as he put his hand behind the small of his back.

Jane wondered briefly if, perhaps, he could be of help in the search for Spencer. But before she could say anything to Richard, there was a flash of a yellow gown and auburn hair, and Calliope grabbed Jane by her gloved hand. “May I speak with you?” she asked, her eyes burning, her cheeks red.

Jane glanced at Penelope and Emma, both of whom Calliope had known longer, but it seemed both were occupied in conversations. She looked at Richard, who threw a concerned glance over the crowd, probably looking for Kelford.

“Of course you may,” said Jane. “Excuse me, Richard.”

He nodded briefly. “Is everything all right, sister? Did that scoundrel do something?”

“Everything’s fine, brother,” she said. “It’s just a talk between ladies. You’ll be bored to death.”

She pulled Jane to the side, finding a place that was free of people next to the window draped in rich golden curtains. The garden beyond was beautiful with the blue moonlight illuminating blooming peonies, hydrangeas, and delphiniums growing along the paths among the trees. Three matrons sat on a settee, drinking wine and, probably, gossiping, but they were out of earshot.

“What is it?” asked Jane.

Calliope leaned close, her eyes sparkling like two diamonds. “That gentleman…the Duke of Kelford.”

Jane chuckled. “I see how he affected you.”

“He’s so…so… Richard is right. He’s a rake! I know why my brother tried to stop me dancing with him. But…why would a man like Kelford dance with a wallflower like me? No one ever invites me for dances. Especially not for a waltz!”

Jane chuckled. “I’m not the one to pose this question to, dearest, as I’ve only danced two dances in my life, both of them with your brother. But the duke…he’d be lucky to have you!”

Calliope sighed and put her hand on her stomach, sucking in a long breath.

“It seems you enjoyed it greatly,” said Jane with a soft chuckle.

“Oh, I did. I liked it more than I should.” She giggled. “If Kelford affected me like Richard affects you—”

But she didn’t finish as there were some gasps and a shuffling of feet that came from the entrance door. The music stopped, the room filling with angry outcries and a general murmur of discontent.

As Jane craned her neck, trying to see what was going on, she noticed a group of men barging in through the large open doors. Royal footmen rushed to stop them but failed.

Jane’s feet grew cold, and she had a sensation of falling through the floor. She recognized all of them…

Her brother, tall and broad-shouldered, marched through the crowd. Behind him, with the same air of determination, walked Brace, Morgan, and Tristan. The quartet, as always, were dressed immaculately, as though they had come to the ball as guests, wearing crisp cravats, perfectly fitted coats, windswept hairstyles. As handsome as devils, the four of them drew every single pair of eyes to themselves. Behind them, Atticus, Reuben, and about ten more of Thorne’s men followed.

Ice filled the pit of Jane’s stomach, spreading over her entire body.

Thorne looked around himself, his dark eyebrows drawn together. The sharp features of his face, so stern and unforgiving, gave her the impression of an eagle hunting prey. She didn’t have a good feeling about this at all. Why would Thorne barge into a royal ballroom with a small army of men in his wake?

He searched wildly through the crowd, and she began to make her way through the people. His gaze fell on her. “Here you are. Jane, come here this minute.”

“Sir, what in the world are you doing? And where are my guards?” cried the prince regent, coming closer, his puffy face red. But, to Jane’s surprise, he didn’t look outraged.

He looked…amused.

Jane knew that by implying he didn’t know who Thorne was, the prince protected his own reputation…kept everyone from knowing he frequented Elysium.

Ashton stood protectively in front of him. “Your Highness, I implore you not to try and approach the madman…” he murmured.

But the prince regent raised his hand to Ashton, stopping him.

Thorne bowed gallantly to the prince. “I am Thorne Blackmore, Your Royal Highness. Your guards didn’t want to let me pass.”

Thorne, no doubt, surprised everyone with his proper gentleman’s manners after disrupting the ball like he had.

“I do not mean any harm to you, Your Highness,” Thorne continued. “I came here to find my sister and the rascal who made a fool of her.”

Jane gasped. More people murmured around one another. The crowd moved as Richard marched forward to stand by Jane’s side.

“Blackmore,” Richard said, lifting his arms from his sides in a placating gesture, “I assure you, there is no need for this. I have every intention to marry your sister.”

“Yes, you do,” growled Thorne, stepping forward, his fists clenching. “To get certain information from me. Information that, as I heard, you tried to get without my knowledge and against our agreement.”

Jane’s gaze darted to Atticus, who looked at her with a guilty expression and then looked down at the floor. Her stomach dropped.

Thorne went silent, his eyes on Richard as deadly as when he’d once caught a patron of Elysium beating one of the whores.

“Is it true you planned to break off this engagement?” Thorne’s voice was calm.

But Jane knew very well the lethal threat that lay beneath. That calmness was a death sentence. She’d heard him talk like that with a man who had tried to sell him indentured children to work in the brothel. Ruby had told her later that no one had heard from the man again. His house was burned to the ground, and all the children were delivered to an orphanage, which Thorne had supported ever since.

The gasps of dozens of people went through the ballroom like a wave.

How had he found out about the false engagement? No one knew but she and Richard.

Jane’s cheeks blazed as hundreds of pairs of eyes landed on her. The reputation of a lady with a broken engagement would be scandalous. Despite the fact that it was what she’d planned from the beginning, sweat sheathed her skin, her stomach flipping with nausea.

But there was an even more urgent matter. The matter of Richard’s life.

“Thorne,” Jane said, “it’s not his fault.”

“Stay out of this, Jane,” Thorne warned, his furious, dark gaze on her. “Do not try to protect him. I know what he did. I know everything.”

The word “everything” hung heavy and loaded, and her world shattered. He wouldn’t be this furious just from Richard getting the information. It must be more—he must have learned they’d had relations.

You dishonored her, and you just wrote your own death sentence. Thorne’s words of some days ago rang in her head.

“Jane is much too kind,” said Richard. “It was all me. But I assure you, I do not want to break off the engagement.”

The prince regent tapped at his lip with his index finger, slowly coming closer to Richard, his gaze curious. “Why does this man think you do not plan to marry Miss Grant?”

“It was my idea!” said Jane. “He did want to marry me from the beginning. It was me who did not want to marry him.”

A murmur went around the room.

“You scoundrel,” Thorne growled. “You stood in front of my study, and you looked me in the eye, and you promised. And then you went and did this. I trusted you with my sister. You will pay for your betrayal.”

Jane’s whole world spun around her. Yes, that confirmed it. Thorne knew Richard had ruined her. Thorne couldn’t announce that in front of the ton, but she knew what he referred to.

He had promised Richard he’d kill him if Richard didn’t marry her. Now he wouldn’t believe Richard intended to marry her no matter what Richard said. And maybe the marriage didn’t even matter to him anymore—now it was about honor. Richard had ruined her, and now he must die. A deep terror ran through Jane, and she felt cold, so, so cold. Thorne was going to kill Richard. If she didn’t intervene, he was going to murder the man she loved.

“So it was all a ruse?” asked Calliope behind her. As Jane turned to her, Calliope’s face showed disappointment. “You did not really intend to go through with the wedding?”

“No, Calliope, I’m sorry, but we did not.” Jane swallowed hard as her throat suddenly became parched. “Forgive me, Calliope…”

With her feet so heavy they could be made of lead, she walked to Thorne. Where had the lightness in her chest gone? The excitement bubbling in her stomach? The feeling that she was beautiful and that she belonged and deserved to be here?

The glares of people around her felt like judgment. They stared at her like she was dirt. Just as Madame Dubois had. Just as Lady Jersey had when she’d refused her access to Almack’s.

Who was she trying to fool? She did not belong here in the end. And Thorne, and even she herself, had just proved it.

Jane laid her hand on his arm. “Brother, you came to collect me. Let’s go.”

Thorne nodded to her without taking his gaze off Richard. “Yes, let us go, sister. Lord Richard,” said Thorne, his voice as cold as frost. “I require your presence outside.”