After barely eating any of her luncheon, Jo retreated to her chamber for a respite before giving Evie her afternoon lessons. How much longer could she go on like this? She was tired and defeated and paralyzed with fear.

She’d planned to talk to Bran last night, but then she’d watched him with that widow, Mrs. Rollins, and she’d been overcome with jealousy. She hated feeling that way, just as she’d hated the way she’d exploded with Nora the other day. She couldn’t go on like this. She was tense and distraught, and it had to stop.

She tipped her chin up and straightened her spine, intent on going for a walk. That would lift her spirits. Walking into the corridor, she encountered Bucket. “I have mail for you, Mrs. Shaw.” He handed her two letters.

“Thank you.” She saw that they were from Lucy and Aquilla. Her stomach fell into her feet. Retracing her steps to her room, she slowly opened the missives and read the contents. Both had delivered their children yesterday. And both were sons.

And just like that, the courage that Jo had summoned went up in flames.

But just as quickly, it transformed into a different kind of courage. She knew what she had to do. It wasn’t going to be easy, but it had to be done.

Surprisingly dry-eyed, she set the letters on her desk and strode from her room. She made her way to the nursery, where she asked Mrs. Poole to give her a few minutes to speak with Evie.

Conjuring a smile, Jo sat down and asked Evie to join her at the table.

“What is it?” Evie asked. “Did I do something wrong?”

Jo’s smile widened, but there was a great deal of sadness behind it, which she was working to suppress. “Not at all. And you must remember that after what I tell you.”

Evie sat down, her face registering confusion. “What is it?”

“I’m not going to be able to be your governess anymore.”

Evie stared at her, and Jo wasn’t sure she’d processed the information until she said, “You have to be.”

“I’m afraid I cannot. This was always a temporary situation—remember when I said at the very beginning that we were going to try it?”

Evie’s forehead formed deep creases, and her gaze was stricken. “Yes, but that means I did do something wrong. Why else would you leave?”

“Oh, Evie, you did nothing wrong. Being a governess just isn’t…” She couldn’t say it wasn’t what she wanted, because it was—and so much more. So she lied. “I miss being able to have more freedom, to attend events with my sister. Going to the dinner party last night reminded me of that.”

Evie’s lip began to quiver, and Jo’s heart ripped in two. She scooted her chair close to Evie and put her arm around her. “I’m so sorry, but we will still be friends. You’ll see me all the time when you come to visit Becky.” Until Jo determined what she was going to do next. The lonely cottage was beginning to look like her best option. Or, at least the one that might cause her the least misery.

Evie, silent tears now streaming down her face, shook off Jo’s arm. “No, we won’t. I don’t want to be your friend. Friends don’t hurt each other. I hate you!” She jumped up and ran from the room, passing a startled Bran, who watched her go and then swung his confused face toward Jo.

But confusion quickly changed to anger. “What the hell just happened?”

Jo tried to swallow past the lump in her throat but had great difficulty. She stood, her legs quaking. “I informed Evie that I wouldn’t be her governess any longer. I was going to speak with you when you arrived home. I resign my position effective immediately.”

“Immediately? You won’t even give me the courtesy of staying while I find a replacement?” He shook his head and took a few steps farther into the nursery. “Never mind that. Why are you leaving?”

Jo clenched her hands together, squeezing, but not feeling a thing. “I can’t continue in this manner. We behaved poorly, allowing our relationship to become too intimate. It’s not good for Evie.”

He stared at her, a muscle in his jaw twitching. “What changed? Things have been fine—better than fine—for weeks. Then a few days ago, you began acting strangely. Did I do something? You know I can be a thoughtless ass.”

A hysterical laugh bubbled in her chest, but she didn’t let it out. “You didn’t do anything. I’ve enjoyed our time together, which is precisely why I have to go. Can’t you see?”

He took another step toward her. “No, I can’t. If things are good, why leave?”

“Because you need to find a countess, and I can’t be here when you do.” In her mind, she saw him with Mrs. Rollins last night. Her heart twisted anew. “I can’t, Bran.”

He moved nearly close enough to touch her. “I wanted you to be that countess.”

“But I can’t give you children. I’d hoped—for a few days—that I could. I was wrong. I’m barren, Bran. There wouldn’t be more children, no heir.” The pain of her lost dreams cut deep. She wrapped her arms around her belly, as if she could soothe the agony. But she couldn’t. “You need to move on, and you can’t do that with me here.”

He opened his mouth but snapped it closed. A small piece of her had hoped he would tell her it didn’t matter, that he’d ask her to stay.

At last, he spoke, his voice dark and brittle. “You broke Evie’s heart.”

Emotion pushed up through Jo’s chest, and her eyes burned as tears formed. She didn’t want to lose her composure here. Not now, not with Bran. “Unfortunately, I think our selfishness brought about many casualties, and now we have to live with the consequences.” She stepped around him, giving him a wide berth. “I’ll send for my things.” And then she left, going straight downstairs and out the door into a bleak future.

* * *

Bran stared at the empty doorway. Agitated, he threw off his coat and untied his cravat. What a blasted mess.

When he’d told Jo that she’d broken Evie’s heart, he’d really meant his. He loved her far more than he realized as he considered a future without her in it. He would make her his countess, but she’d refused him, citing her inability to have children.

Which could be a valid reason. Or not.

He didn’t care. He wanted her any way he could have her. Yes, he wanted children. Yes, he felt a duty to provide an heir. But when all accounts were settled, he wanted her most of all.

A small, horrid voice in the back of his head called him Bran the Defiant—still putting what he wanted before everyone else. Maybe, but it was what Evie wanted too, he was sure of it. But was it what Jo wanted? He thought so, but he couldn’t be certain.

There was only one way to find out.

First, however, he needed to talk to Evie, to soothe her.

He went down to her bedchamber, but she wasn’t there. Puzzled, he went in search of Mrs. Poole, who was in her room, up on the same floor as the nursery.

“Have you seen Evie?” he asked.

Mrs. Poole shook her head. “I haven’t, my lord. I left her with Mrs. Shaw. Perhaps they’ve gone for a walk?”

Almost certainly not, since he’d heard Evie tell Jo that she hated her. He winced at the memory. “I’ll ask Bucket. Thank you.”

The nurse’s brow furrowed. “Please let me know if aught is amiss.”

“Of course.” He hurried downstairs, out of breath, when he reached Bucket’s office in the basement.

“Bucket, have you seen Evie?”

“No, my lord.”

“What about Mrs. Shaw?”

“She left a short while ago.” Bucket looked as if he wanted to say more, but was uncertain if he should.

“If you have something of import to share, please do so,” Bran urged.

“Mrs. Shaw seemed rather distraught. She was, however, alone.”

Growing worried, Bran paced for a moment. “I need to find Evie. Ask the staff to search the house immediately.”

He went back up to the ground floor just as Mrs. Poole came down the stairs. “My lord,” she said. “Do you think Evie went to Becky’s? I don’t know why she would, but it’s not terribly far to walk and it is a rather nice day.”

It wasn’t far, and they’d walked there several times, typically only using the coach in inclement weather. Plus, he knew Jo was there, and if by some chance Evie had gone after her… It made more sense that she was still in the house—he hoped.

He joined the search, but a quarter hour later, Bucket informed him that every room had been searched. Evie wasn’t there.

Bran dashed to the mews and had a groom saddle his horse in record time. He arrived at the Kendals’ a short while later and tore up the steps to the door. Abbott admitted him.

“Where is Mrs. Shaw?”

“In the drawing room, my lord,” Abbott answered, but Bran was already halfway up the stairs by the time he finished the sentence.

He burst into the drawing room. Huddled together on the settee were Jo and her sister. “Where’s Evie?” he blurted.

Jo blinked at him and straightened. “What do you mean? She’s not here.”

He swore and ran his hand through his hair. “She’s not at home either.”

The duchess rose from the settee, her face pale. “Let’s try to remain calm. She was upset, yes?”

Jo stood with her, her eyes red and her cheeks flushed. “Yes. This is all my fault.”

Bran wanted to agree, but that would help nothing. And really, he was just as much to blame. They’d created a terrible situation where Evie was the one who would suffer for their actions. He’d invited Jo into his home and treated her like a treasured member of the family, like his countess, for heaven’s sake. Of course Evie felt as though they were a family and that their family had just been split in two.

“I’ll be right back.” The duchess hurried from the room.

“I’m so sorry,” Jo said, her voice ravaged from crying. “I handled that very poorly. I didn’t know what else to do.” She clasped her hands in front of herself and lowered her head to stare at them.

He stared at her as emotions careened through him—anger, fear, love. “I don’t care if you’re barren.”

Her head snapped up. “What did you say?”

“I don’t care if you’re barren. I love you. I can’t bear a future without you. Please don’t leave us.”

Before Jo could answer, the duchess came back into the room with Becky. “Tell them what you told me,” she said sternly.

Becky, looking rather stubborn, pouted for a moment. “I might know where she is. But I’m not supposed to tell.”

Bran felt a mixture of relief and frustration. He went to Becky and knelt before her. “I’m very worried about her. I want to make sure she’s all right. Will you please tell me where she might be?” He only hoped it was more than a might and that Evie was safely ensconced somewhere.

Becky chewed her lip. She looked up at her mother, who nodded encouragingly. She returned her gaze to Bran, looking worried. “Please tell her not to be angry with me. We promised each other it would be our secret.”

Jo knelt beside him and took her niece’s hand. “It will be all right. Evie will understand.”

“We have a secret hiding place at her house. It’s in the attic. There’s a narrow staircase behind a door in one of the maids’ rooms—the smallest one, in the corner.”

Bran leapt up, but Jo grabbed his hand and held him fast before he could run out. “Thank you, Becky,” she said. “You were very brave and very good to tell us.”

Bran patted the girl’s shoulder, anxiety searing his insides. “Yes. Thank you.” He looked at Jo, and she nodded.

They hurried from the room and down the stairs. Abbott just got the door opened before they fled outside. “I only have my horse,” Bran said. One of the Kendals’ grooms stood with it.

“You can go on ahead,” Jo said, letting go of his hand.

“No, we’ll do this together.” He brushed a stray hair from her forehead and leaned forward to kiss her, his lips briefly touching hers. “We’ll do everything together from now on.”

She nodded, and there were tears in her eyes. “I love you.”

“Good.” He turned, slipping his arm around her waist and guiding her to the horse. He climbed up first, then asked the footman to give her a leg up. Bran pulled her in front of him. “It’s a bit awkward, sorry.”

“I don’t care,” she said, pressing back into his chest. “Let’s go.”

He rode the horse as quickly as he dared, and they arrived at his town house a few minutes later. He slid from the saddle and helped Jo down. Bucket opened the door. “Did you find her, my lord?”

“Not yet, but we will. See to my horse.”

Bran ran up the stairs and heard Jo close behind him. Up two more flights to the servants’ floor where the nursery was located. They passed that on their way to the corner. “Is this the right room?” he asked Jo.

“Yes, I believe so.”

He opened the door. The chamber was small and sparsely furnished. It was also empty. A narrow door was nestled into the corner. He crossed to it and pulled, but it stuck a bit, and he paused. Turning, he looked at Jo, who was just behind him.

He pulled on the door a second time. This time, it gave way.

The staircase was indeed narrow and also dark. But there was a faint light coming from above. He started up, the boards beneath his feet creaking as he went.

“Who’s there?” came a frightened voice.

Bran relaxed as he recognized his daughter’s tones. “It’s Papa.” He came into the attic. It was cold and dusty, with a low ceiling that required him to stoop.

Evie sat on a blanket with a doll on her lap and a candle burning in a lamp beside her.

“May we sit down?” Bran asked.

Evie looked uncertain. “Who’s with you?”

Bran hadn’t heard Jo on the stairs behind him. He turned and called down, “Jo?”

The creak of the stairs signaled her ascent. A moment later, she joined them, her expression tentative.

“You came back,” Evie said flatly. “Why?”

“Because I asked her to,” Bran said, sitting.

“But she doesn’t want to be a governess anymore.” Evie sent her a mutinous look that tore at Bran’s heart.

“No, she doesn’t.” He looked at her, remembering what she’d told him just a few minutes ago—that she loved him. Did that mean she would marry him? He didn’t want to presume, nor did he want to encourage Evie’s hopes only to have them be dashed. “I am hopeful she will still be a close part of our lives, however.” He held his hand toward Jo, hoping she ascertained his meaning.

She came forward and sat down beside him. Hope unfurled in his chest as he gazed into her eyes.

Her lips curved up, and she faced Evie. “Instead of your governess, I’m going to be your father’s countess. If it’s all right with you.”

Evie blinked, her gaze disbelieving. She looked from Jo to Bran. “Truly?”

Bran nodded, unable to speak through the joy clogging his throat.

Evie let out a long breath teeming with relief. “Becky and I tried so hard. We arranged that picnic and the dinner. I was certain you might be falling in love. But then I thought it was maybe just my imagination.”

Jo reached out and laid her hand over Evie’s. “It wasn’t. I’ve been in love with your father for some time.”

Bran snapped his head toward her. She had? Of course she had. And if he’d been paying attention, he would’ve known that.

Happiness bloomed in Evie’s gaze. “We are going to be a family for real, then.”

“Yes.” Bran and Jo answered in unison. They looked at each other and joined hands.

Evie clasped Jo’s hand and then reached for Bran’s. He took her small fingers in his and gave them a squeeze.

Evie grinned. “I’m the luckiest girl in the world!” She launched herself forward and threw her arms around both their necks.

Bran heard Jo murmur, “No, I am.”