Page 162 of Stolen By the Heartless Duke
Lavinia nodded slowly. “That sounds like him.”
“I told him he’d make a wonderful father.”
“And?”
“He simply... retreated.” Jane wrapped both hands around her teacup. “He does that sometimes. He closes a door, and no matter how gently I knock, he will not open it.”
Lavinia was quiet for a moment. “Has he been unkind? Cold?”
Jane considered the question. “No... not exactly.”
“Worse?”
Jane gave a small, sad laugh. “Absent.”
Her friend reached across the table and squeezed her hand. “My dear, men like the duke survive by building walls. You have already climbed over more of them than anyone else ever has.”
“It doesn’t feel that way.”
“It rarely does.”
Jane looked up. “What if I asked too much of him?”
“I doubt it.”
“What if I frightened him?”
Lavinia smiled gently. “Then let him be frightened for a little while.”
Jane frowned. “You think he’ll come back?”
“I do.”
“What makes you so certain?”
“Because I’ve watched the way that man looks at you.”
Jane felt warmth creep into her cheeks.
“He loves you far too much to stay away forever.”
Jane wished she possessed her friend’s confidence.
Still, as they continued talking, laughing over lighter subjects for a while, the heaviness in her chest eased just enough for her to breathe again.
Perhaps Lavinia was right. Perhaps Hector simply needed time.
Jane only hoped that, when he was ready to lower his guard once more, she would still be waiting exactly where he’d left her.
Chapter Twenty-Four
The gentlemen’s club was quieter than usual for a Thursday evening.
A handful of gentlemen occupied the card room beyond the open doors, while others lingered beside the fireplaces discussing parliament, investments, and the latest rumors circulating through Mayfair. Crystal glasses caught the glow of the lamps overhead, amber liquor shimmering as servants moved silently through the room.
Hector sat in his customary leather chair near the library, a glass of whiskey resting untouched in his hand. He had ordered it nearly twenty minutes earlier. He had scarcely taken a sip.
His thoughts refused to remain in the club. Instead, they drifted home.
