Page 43 of Stolen By the Heartless Duke

Jane forced her shoulders to relax, managing what she hoped resembled a casual, unaffected smile. “It was nothing, Mama.”

“Nothing?”

“He was merely being polite.”

Her mother looked unconvinced, her eyes scanning Jane’s flushed face. “A duke does not simply appear from nowhere to dance with a lady out of mere politeness.”

“He asked after Colin,” Jane lied smoothly, desperate to redirect the interrogation.

“While dancing?”

Jane hesitated, the memory of his gray eyes flashing in her mind. “For part of it.” She could not tell her mother the truth—could not admit to the thrilling, terrifying way he had looked at her.

“And the rest?”

Jane felt the telltale warmth rise in her cheeks once more. “The rest was just dancing.”

Lady Wynten studied her daughter carefully, searching for any sign of a miracle that might save their family. “I wonder whether he truly asked after Colin,” she speculated.

Jane gently tucked her mother’s arm through her own, steering them away from the whispering onlookers. “I honestly believe he was only being courteous.”

“And nothing more?”

Jane looked toward the far side of the ballroom, where the crowd had swallowed him whole. “Nothing more.”

Though, for reasons she could not explain, the lie tasted bitter on her tongue, and she was no longer entirely certain she believed it herself.

Several days later, Jane received a note from the duke. She ducked out of Wynten House and hurried to the corner where she was to meet him. When he arrived, a footman helped Jane climb inside his carriage.

Then, the duke signaled, and the carriage moved through London like a shadow trying not to be noticed.

Jane sat opposite the duke, her gloved hands folded tightly in her lap.

The duke broke the silence first.

“There is something we could do tonight. My man heard about a rumor, though I confess it is unverified.”

Jane leaned in slightly before she could stop herself. “What rumor?”

He hesitated just long enough to irritate her. “A special gaming hell, not unlike the one we were at the other evening.”

Jane’s breath caught. “And you think Colin used it as well?”

“I think Evan might have,” he corrected. “And, perhaps, your brother followed.”

Jane’s pulse quickened. “Then we go,” she said immediately.

The duke finally looked at her. “Tonight.”

There was no question in it. She was in. He was not taking her home. Something fluttered in her stomach at the thought that he might be starting to trust her, but she didn’t let herself linger too long on it.

They did not go as themselves. The second carriage was more discreet, older, and unmarked. The kind that belonged to men who preferred not to be remembered.

Jane adjusted her cloak as they stopped near a narrower street. The building ahead seemed quieter than the last, but something about it felt worse for that silence.

The duke stepped down first, then offered his hand. Jane hesitated only briefly before taking it. His grip was firm. Steady. She told herself not to notice that.

Inside, the atmosphere shifted immediately. This place was rougher and less polished. The air felt denser; it was filled with sweat, smoke, and the kind of shady confidence that came from men who had stopped believing in consequences.