Page 87 of Stolen By the Heartless Duke

He had watched witnesses hide fear. He had watched politicians disguise panic. He had watched men lie to protect people they loved. Lady Jane was doing the same. The question was who was she trying to protect? Herself, or someone else?

Before he could press further, she closed the remaining distance between them. Her gloved fingers rested lightly against the backof his hand. The contact lasted scarcely more than a heartbeat. Yet every coherent thought deserted him.

“Please,” she whispered.

Hector looked down at her hand resting against his, then his gaze moved slowly back to her eyes. His pulse, ordinarily so disciplined, betrayed him with one heavy, unmistakable beat. She had never touched him first before. He should have stepped away.

Instead, he found himself standing perfectly still, his attention fixed entirely upon the woman before him. And one thought eclipsed every other. He could see that someone had frightened her. The certainty struck him with such force that it left no room for doubt.

His voice came lower than before. “Lady Jane…” He searched her face. “Tell me the truth.”

Her fingers slipped from his hand. She took one careful step backward.

“I am only afraid for Colin.”

His eyes never left hers. “And no one has harmed you?”

She hesitated. Then she forced a small smile that failed to reach her eyes. “No one.”

Hector knew then, with quiet certainty, that she had just lied to him. He did not know what else to do but to take her home.

“Very well,” he said.

Hector closed the carriage door behind them before the footman had fully settled onto the rear step.

“Straight home,” he instructed quietly.

The driver acknowledged the order, and the horses started forward.

Silence settled inside the carriage.

Jane sat opposite him, her cloak wrapped tightly around her shoulders, her gloved hands folded neatly in her lap. The moonlight drifted through the small window every few moments as they passed beneath breaks in the clouds, washing her face in silver before darkness reclaimed it.

She had asked him for help. Simply reached for his hand and whispered, “Please.” The earnest look in her eyes refused to leave him. He flexed his fingers against his knee. He could almost still feel the warmth of her touch.

Ridiculous. She had touched his hand for scarcely a heartbeat. Yet somehow it lingered far longer than any kiss ought to.

He forced himself to look out of the window instead.

“You are very quiet.” Her soft observation pulled his attention back.

“I am thinking,” he replied.

“So am I.”

He gave a faint hum. “I suspected as much.”

Another stretch of silence passed. Finally he said, “You understand what tonight requires.”

“I do.”

“If anyone discovers you at my house?—”

Jane interrupted. “They will not.”

“You cannot know that.”

“No.” Her voice remained calm. “But I trust you.”