Page 132 of Stolen By the Heartless Duke

Lady Wynten blinked several times. Jane could almost see decades of expectations unraveling behind her mother’s eyes.

“Their quarrels,” Lady Wynten whispered. “They were pretending.”

Jane nodded. “They needed society to believe they disliked each other.”

Another long silence. Lady Wynten looked toward the window. “So that no one would suspect.”

“Yes.” Her mother closed her eyes. “When did you learn this?”

“Very recently.”

“And Colin never told us.” Lady Wynten’s shoulders sagged. “I thought...”

She stopped. Jane understood. They had all imagined Colin would someday marry. Raise children. Continue the family line. She had imagined it herself.

Instead he had carried a secret heavy enough to reshape his entire life.

Lady Wynten looked back at Jane. “Was he... ashamed?”

Jane felt tears sting her own eyes. “He believed he had disappointed Father.”

“Oh…” Lady Wynten pressed trembling fingers to her lips. “My poor boy.”

Jane’s voice softened. “I told him Father loved him. I told him we loved him.”

“And?”

Jane smiled through her own tears. “He believed me.”

Lady Wynten began crying in earnest. Jane moved beside her and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. For several minutes neither woman spoke. Only quiet sobs filled the room.

At last Lady Wynten whispered, “I wish I could have held him once more.”

The words broke something inside Jane. She rested her cheek against her mother’s hair. “So do I.”

“They intend to leave England. When they are settled somewhere safe, we can visit.”

Lady Wynten searched her face. “Truly?”

“I promised Colin we would write.”

Her mother’s expression softened. “Letters.”

“And someday, we shall visit wherever they make their home.”

For the first time since Jane entered the room, genuine peace settled between them.

It lasted only moments. Then Lady Wynten’s face paled. “The title. If Colin never returns… It will eventually pass to Zachary.”

Jane’s stomach tightened. “Yes. We knew that possibility already.”

Lady Wynten turned. “What shall we do?”

Jane had asked herself that same question countless times. Now, strangely, the answer no longer frightened her as much. She rose to meet her mother’s gaze. “I will marry.”

Her mother reached for her hands again. “You already sacrificed one engagement.”

“Maltby was never a sacrifice.”