Page 31 of Stolen By the Heartless Duke

Behind her, she heard the faint sound of movement. The duke’s carriage was being prepared somewhere nearby, quietly and discreetly, exactly as he had promised.

Jane mounted her horse. For a moment, she hesitated. Then she glanced back.

The duke stood near the edge of the alley, partially obscured by shadow. He was watching her with the kind of attention that made her acutely aware of being seen.

Jane straightened slightly in the saddle, refusing to acknowledge the effect it had on her.

Then she turned forward and rode.

The streets of London opened around her again as she left the alley behind. The night had deepened, the gas lamps now brighter against the dark, casting long reflections on wet stone.

She did not look back at first. But she felt him behind her. The presence of the carriage at a careful, deliberate distance. Never close enough to be linked. Never far enough to be lost—as if the duke had decided that she would not be dismissed after all.

Jane kept her gaze forward, her grip steady on the reins. Eventually, her street came into view. Wynten House.

She dismounted quickly, moving with practiced silence, leading her horse toward the side entrance rather than the front. The household would not question her returning at this hour if she was discreet enough.

A servant would not be stationed here. Once she had secured her horse in the stable, she slipped inside through the back door. The house was asleep, or pretending to be.

Jane moved through the corridors carefully, removing her cloak as she went, folding it over her arm. Every sound felt amplified: the soft creak of floorboards, the distant ticking of a clock, her own breathing.

She reached her room without interruption. Only once inside did she allow herself to exhale fully. She crossed to the window almost immediately. Outside, the street was quiet. But there it was. The duke’s carriage stood across the street.

Jane stepped closer to the glass. For a moment, she could not see inside clearly. Then there was a faint shift. And she realized, with a slight tightening in her chest, that the duke was looking out, directly toward her window.

Even at this distance in the dark, their eyes met, and Jane felt something unfamiliar pass through her. Something between fear and comfort.

She did not move.

Then, after a moment that felt longer than it should have, the carriage began to move. Slowly at first.

She watched it leave as it turned into the street, disappearing into the night.

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.