It was a beautiful speech, the most heartfelt declaration of affection she’d ever heard, even if I love you had not been spoken. But it had been implied and the words, infused with need and desperation, had been directed at her, as if she’d stepped onto the pages of a Regency romance novel to be charmed by her very own gentleman suitor.

And she had been charmed. So much so she’d shed a few tears in the process. This was what it ought to be like when a man declared his feelings for you. When Geoffrey had proposed, he’d casually said it while washing the dishes one evening after dinner and in the same tone as when he spoke of current events or a movie he’d like to see. There had been no wish, no yearning or magic. It had just been the next logical step in their relationship, and she’d gone along with it because that was what women did at her age when they’d been dating a guy for a couple of years.

With James it was entirely different. For one thing, he’d needed less than a week to determine she was the one. And while she suspected he might be the one for her too, she wasn’t sure if she felt as strongly for him as he did for her. In fact, she knew she didn’t. How could she, when she was unwilling to make the same sacrifice as he? And she at least knew what she would face if she stayed here, while he would travel into the unknown if he came with her.

“How can you be so sure I’m worth it?” she asked.

The corners of his eyes creased a little as he smiled, and then he placed one hand over his heart. “Because I feel it here.”

She nodded, pretending she understood, even though she feared she didn’t. Everything about this whole situation terrified her. Then again, as he’d said, whether or not she would ever be able to leave this time remained to be seen. If she had to stay, what better life could she hope for than one with him by her side? And if she wanted to have a relationship with him without being his mistress, or just a maid he occasionally slept with, then marriage was the only possible option.

So she drew a deep breath and quietly nodded, her mind made up. “In that case yes, James. My answer is yes. I will marry you if you are willing to endure the scandal.”

His response was immediate. Without hesitation he pulled her out of the chair and down to the floor so he could kiss her as thoroughly as Rhett Butler had kissed his Scarlett in Gone with the Wind. They hadn’t lived happily ever after, but Jane refused to think about that as she wrapped her arms around James’s neck and returned his kiss with equal fervor.

Perhaps this could work. Perhaps they could build a life together and have the happily ever after she’d always dreamed of. And yet uncertainty remained, lodged at the back of her mind and preventing her from surrendering herself completely.

“Regarding your friend,” she said a while later, deliberately burying the guilt she felt beneath the continued need to find the man responsible for Tatiana’s and Betsy’s murders. “I suspect I know who he was visiting last night.”

James helped her to her feet. “Margaret?”

“I believe so. Yes.”

James nodded. “I should have known inviting him here would lead to this. The man cannot go two days without tupping a woman.”

A thought occurred to Jane, one she knew she had to voice even though it would likely cause offense. “You don’t suppose he tried to…you know…with your sister, do you?”

“God no! Rockwell may be a scoundrel, but his friends’ female relations have always been off limits. Not to mention he would never consider an innocent lady because of the repercussions there would be if he got caught.”

“I was thinking that if he did try something and she refused him, threatened to tell you about it even, it might have enraged him enough for him to accidentally—”

“Stop.” He gave a disapproving frown. “One does not accidentally slit another person’s throat, Jane.”

“No,” she conceded. “I don’t suppose one does.”

“Look, I realize your experience with Rockwell has not been then best, and I can assure you he will apologize to you for that before the day is done, but to think he had anything to do with Tatiana’s death is madness.” He pushed his fingers through his hair. “I have known Rockwell all my life, longer than Harrington. Our parents were friends, their town houses in London a stone’s throw from each other, so our nannies would often arrange for us to play.”

“Then we’ll have to consider other options.” In a way she was thankful to have ruled out Harrington and Rockwell, because she knew how difficult it would be for James to deal with if it had been one of them. Discovering it was a trusted servant would be no simple thing either, but it would be easier, she suspected. “Mr. Snypes demands a second glance, if you ask me.”

James knit his brow. “Snypes has been in my employ for years. I would trust that man with my life, Jane.”

“Would you?” She knew she was about to burst this illusion, but so be it. “Perhaps he told me the truth then, when I found him riffling through books in the library. He said he was looking for something on your behalf.”

There was a pause, and then James quietly said, “No. I never asked him to do such a thing.”

“Well, he appeared quite frantic about it, manic even, as if his life depended on finding whatever he sought.”

“Then I shall have to speak with him as well. Find out the truth.” James sank into his chair with a look of exhaustion. A knock at the door swiftly followed, provoking a sigh from James before he called for whoever it was to enter.

Hendricks stepped in. “My lord, Lady Rockwell and her daughter have arrived, as has Mr. Thompson. Shall I show them into the parlor for some refreshment and tell them you will be with them shortly?”

“Yes.” James stood as if rejuvenated by this bit of news. “By all means, Hendricks. Thank you.”

The butler departed without closing the door behind him. Jane turned to James, unable to hide her surprise. “Tatiana’s tutor is here?”

“I sent for him immediately after you made me aware of the note he wrote to her. If the two were as deeply involved as I suspect they may have been, Mr. Thompson might help shed some light on my sister’s most private thoughts. Because she obviously failed to share them with me.”

Sympathizing, Jane stepped forward, intending to hug him, then recalled the open door and the fact that hugs weren’t really a thing in 1818. Especially not between an employer and his employee. So she let her hands fall to her sides again.

“Then you must go and greet your guests,” she said. “In the meantime, I shall have a word with Margaret and see if our suspicions about her and Rockwell are true before you confront him.”

“Jane…” He paused as if trying to find the right words. With a hasty glance at the doorway, he lowered his voice to a whisper. “Now that you and I are affianced, it seems improper for you to continue with your duties. I ought to speak with Mrs. Fontaine and have you relieved so you can return to a finer bedchamber, dress more appropriately, and allow me the opportunity to romance you as you deserve.”

She blushed, quite liking the idea of him romancing her. “Thank you, but until your sister’s murder has been solved, it might be best if we keep our engagement a secret.” His glower conveyed what he thought of that idea. “It allows me to ferret out information from the servants that they wouldn’t otherwise confide in me if I was suddenly raised above them.”

Pressing his lips together, he seemed to ponder her idea. Eventually, he nodded. “Very well. I will agree with that for now. But if we haven’t progressed with our investigation within the next week, I will insist on announcing our engagement so we can begin planning the wedding.”

Sensing he would not budge on the issue, she chose to agree. “Okay.” He gave her a curious look, and she realized she’d accidentally used a modern word. “It’s a substitute for ‘very well’,” she explained with a wave of her hand. And then, “Since time is of the essence, we will simply have to apply ourselves to the task.”

“Agreed.” Dropping a hasty kiss on her cheek, James quit the room and went to tend to his duties while Jane went off in search of Margaret.

“How on earth did you guess?” Margaret asked when Jane confronted her ten minutes later. The usually composed maid looked thoroughly flustered as she fidgeted with her skirt.

“It was something he said,” Jane told Margaret. She’d deliberately pulled her into the dining room where the two of them made a pretense of polishing a pair of candlesticks while they talked. “He alluded to being in the servants’ quarters last night so I made a guess.”

Margaret winced. “He promised complete discretion.” She rubbed the silver candlestick with increasing vigor. “The man can charm the skirt off any woman he desires. Resistance was utterly futile on my part, Jane.”

“I can well imagine,” Jane muttered. She’d met her fair share of men like him in New York bars. “Were you with him the night Tatiana died?”

Margaret shook her head. “No. I told you the truth about that night. You have to believe me.” When Jane nodded, she quietly added. “Honestly, I should have been stronger, all things considered.”

Jane’s ears perked up. “How do you mean?”

“Well, it’s not as if I’m the only girl around here who caught his fancy, so when he told me I was the prettiest thing he’d ever seen, I should have been smart enough to know it was just a trick to get me into bed.”

“I’m sorry.” And she meant it. What Rockwell was doing was wrong. “Who else did he compromise?”

“I…I shouldn’t really say,” Margaret told her, averting her gaze. “It will affect the way people think of the woman if word gets out.”

“Please tell me, Margaret,” Jane urged. “It might be important.” Perhaps it would give Rockwell the alibi he needed.

“It’s not really the sort of thing I ought to divulge to anyone, Jane.” The conflict going on inside Margaret’s head was clear. Eventually she made her decision and said, “I know he was having it on with Betsy from the day he arrived here and until she…” Margaret’s words died and her shoulders slumped. “She was smitten by him, always giggling when he was near and doing her best to be the one who cleaned his room and readied his bath. She made no effort to push him away. Quite the contrary.”

“So then perhaps he and Betsy were together that night.” Jane voiced the idea out loud without thinking.

“I know she went to his room,” Margaret said. “She told me so.”

In which case Rockwell couldn’t have killed Tatiana. But it did confirm the fact that someone had killed Tatiana in the evening and then killed Betsy later, either that same evening or early the following morning. But who? Jane shook her head. “You know, I’m having a heck of a time figuring out who killed these two women.”

“Perhaps you should leave it to the magistrate then,” Margaret suggested.

Jane scoffed at the idea. “That man was called upon as soon as Tatiana’s body was discovered, and he has yet to arrive. Apparently, he is away on business, though God knows I can’t imagine what sort of business would keep him from showing up at an earl’s home to help with a murder investigation. Not to mention that whatever evidence there is will have vanished by the time he gets here.”

“I know. It’s just…your involvement has made the rest of the servants wonder about your relationship with Camden. You seem quite…familiar with him.”

“He asked me to help on account of my objectivity,” Jane explained. She had no desire to get into details about her feelings for James or his feelings for her or the fact that they had agreed to marry. “My lack of history with everyone here allows me to consider each person with complete detachment.”

“Oh.” Margaret’s expression turned glum.

“That doesn’t mean I haven’t found friendship here,” Jane hastened to say. “You have been extremely helpful and kind to me, Margaret. I enjoy your company and hope to continue doing so for a long time yet.”

This seemed to enliven Margaret’s features. A broad smile fell into place. “I would like that, Jane.” She grinned a little. “Just promise me that won’t change when you marry his lordship.”

Jane froze. “Marry his lordship?”

Margaret’s grin turned to laughter. “You ought to see your face right now! Oh, come on, Jane, it’s clear to see for anyone who’s looking. He’s obviously quite in love with you.”

“But that would hardly mean marriage,” Jane said, reminding Margaret of class differences and responsibility.

But Margaret merely scoffed. “He’s an honorable man, as good as they come. If he loves you, he’ll marry you. I’ve no doubt about it.”

Well, perhaps Jane ought to enlist Margaret’s help more when it came to solving the murder. She obviously had some investigative skills of her own and a keen sense of what was going on, no matter how unlikely that ‘what’ might be.

“There you are,” Hendricks said as he stormed into the room. “His lordship and his guests intend on spending the afternoon out on the lawn with a game of pall-mall. You are to ensure some fresh lemonade is prepared and brought out along with some biscuits and cucumber sandwiches.”

“Of course,” Margaret told him as she set a gleaming candlestick back on the table. “We will see to it right away. Won’t we Jane?”

Jane nodded and followed Margaret from the room. They returned to the kitchen and prepared two trays with refreshments before heading out to the area where everyone was seated. Following Margaret across the freshly sheared grass, Jane regretted telling James to wait with announcing their engagement as soon as she laid eyes on Lady Elise.

The girl was simply stunning, the very image of a china doll decked out with bouncy curls and layers of lace-trimmed muslin that flowed around her delicate figure like mist around an elven princess. And the way she looked at James, with huge brown eyes filled with endless wonder and lips that smiled just enough to brighten her features without distorting her face, was enough to make Jane lose her cool. Jealousy whipped through her, freezing her lungs so drawing breath became painful.

She’d never felt quite like this, so out of sorts over a man, so ready to fight tooth and nail in order to have him. The emotion was so overwhelming and out of the ordinary, it rather disturbed her to know she was capable of wanting to push another woman aside with physical force in order to lay claim to the man she wanted. It was primitive and it was…she wasn’t sure what, but it made her entire body shake, which in turn caused her to spill a bit of the lemonade she was pouring on Lady Rockwell’s gown.

“You foolish girl,” Lady Camden snapped while Jane hurried to gather some napkins and help blot the stain.

“I’m so sorry,” Jane muttered.

Lady Rockwell shoved her hand away. “You, my dear, have done enough. Leave it be.”

“Perhaps you ought to return inside,” Lady Camden suggested. “We can manage quite well with Margaret’s help. Yours is certainly not needed.”

Catching a slight movement out of the corner of her eye, Jane saw that James was about to interfere, so she rushed to say, “Of course.” Meeting his gaze, she gave a hard stare to dissuade him from coming to her rescue, then bobbed a curtsey and walked back up to the house.

* * *

James watched a yellow-striped wooden ball roll across the lawn. It missed the wicket it was supposed to pass through, which gave James a small measure of satisfaction. For the ball belonged to his mother, and in his opinion, she deserved a little bad luck after the way she’d treated Jane.

He’d intended to put her in her place as soon as it had happened, but Jane had made it clear she did not want him revealing his feelings for her in front of his guests. So he’d refrained, though doing so did not sit well with him. Rather, it made him feel as if he’d turned his back on her. Part of the reason why he’d refused to join the rest of his party for the game they now played.

Another part was his reluctance to spend additional time with Rockwell at the moment. Confronting his friend about his misguided treatment of Jane had not been easy. It had revealed more than he’d wished to.

“I apologize,” Rockwell had said. “I wasn’t aware your arrangement with her was permanent.”

“It’s not an arrangement,” James had clipped.

Rockwell had stared back at him. “Call it what you will, my friend, but you have to know it can never be anything more than a bit of fun.”

“Whatever your opinion on the matter, I suggest you keep it to yourself,” James had told him.

“Duly noted,” Rockwell had said. He’d eyed James with increased uncertainty. “Should we clear the air with a bit of boxing like we used to back in the day?”

Liking that idea, James had welcomed the suggestion and the physical exertion that had followed. It had allowed him to forgive his friend’s behavior, especially after landing a satisfying blow to Rockwell’s jaw.

A bruise had appeared, more evident now outside in the sun. James tracked the next striped ball with his eyes. “Would you like to take a look at the horses?” he asked Mr. Thompson whose own lack of interest in playing pall-mall had prompted him to remain seated as well.

“Certainly,” Mr. Thompson replied. “I could do with a walk.”

So could James. Plus, he wanted to speak with Mr. Thompson privately, without the chance of anyone else overhearing, and on a far more important subject than the pleasantries they’d been exchanging thus far.

Neither said much as they crossed the lawn and strode out onto the driveway. The crunch of gravel beneath their feet was a startling contrast to the soft tread they’d made on the grass seconds earlier.

“I must tell you how shocked I was to hear of your sister’s passing,” Mr. Thompson said as they walked toward the long stone building from which the sound of whinnying and neighing could be heard. His voice was controlled, as if he strove to force a sense of coolness he did not feel. “I meant to offer my condolences earlier, but with my arrival colliding with that of Rockwell’s family, I did not have the chance. For which I hope you will forgive me.”

“Of course.” They reached the stable building and approached the first stall, where a chestnut colored mare awaited their attention. James picked up a carrot from a nearby bin, broke it into smaller pieces and offered it to her one piece at a time. “For the sake of expediency, allow me to be direct with you.” The mare nuzzled his hand, and he moved it, stroking her slowly from muzzle to cheek. “A note was found, addressed to my sister. It spoke of a deep affection on the part of the man who wrote it.” When Mr. Thompson failed to respond, James said, “I believe you were in love with her, Mr. Thompson. Perhaps she was in love with you too. What I need is for you to enlighten me. It is clear I did not know Tatiana as well as I thought I did. But the more I discover about her, the more likely I think it will be to catch her killer. So I need you to tell me everything you can about your relationship with her.”

A long pause followed. It was so long James finally glanced in Mr. Thompson’s direction. What he saw was a face etched in pain. “She was a lovely woman, my lord. Why anyone would choose to harm her…” His voice broke and he looked away.

James returned his attention to the horse, granting Mr. Thompson some small measure of privacy. A shuddering breath followed, and then, “You are correct.” The confession was made with astounding honesty. “Tatiana and I fell in love while I worked here, but she was an earl’s daughter and then an earl’s sister while I…I was – am – the simple son of a tradesman. We knew a shared future would be impossible for us, but that did not prevent her from dreaming. And although I urged her to forget me, she continued to write to me after I left, each letter conveying her innermost thoughts, her concerns for the future and how trapped she felt. I could not keep from responding, from offering my support and my undeniable affection.”

“In other words, you could not break things off with her.”

“I tried. You have to believe me, I tried. But she was like the sun, luring me into the light.”

James let his hand fall away from the horse. The analogy was one he could now relate to, for he felt the same about Jane. And wasn’t a relationship with her just as impossible as one would have been for his sister and Mr. Thompson?

Needing to move, he started strolling along the length of the stable. When Mr. Thompson fell into step beside him, he quietly asked, “Did you take her innocence?”

Another pause confirmed the truth before the words were spoken. “Yes. And while I know I should apologize for doing so, I cannot, for it was the most wonderful experience of my life.”

James shuddered a little, distaste rising in his throat. “She was only sixteen.”

“But she knew her own mind. She knew what she wanted, and she told me so. There was never any doubt, never any risk of me taking advantage.”

“Did she tell you about Harrington?” James asked, deliberately changing the subject for fear he might punch Mr. Thompson in the face. But that would cut this conversation short, and James knew there was more for him to discover.

“She wrote she’d found a way for us to be together, though she warned me it would not be ideal.” They reached the end of the stable and paused. Mr. Thompson shoved his hands in his pockets. “It would involve her marrying Harrington and keeping me as her lover.”

“You never worried over what Harrington might have to say about that?”

Mr. Thompson averted his gaze. A flush rose to his cheeks. “I understand he is a close friend of yours, so I hesitate to say anything that might cause insult.”

James snorted and started back toward the other end of the stables. “I want you to speak plainly, man! As plainly as you would speak if there was no risk of being judged. Which there is not. There are other concerns which far outweigh any opinion I might have with regard to what you say.”

“Very well then.” Mr. Thompson’s heel scraped the ground as if in warning. “Some men have no desire for women. Tatiana told me Harrington was one of these men, that he would never want to consummate their marriage and that their union would be for show alone. It was designed to appease his family and would force no restrictions upon her. Indeed, he told her she would be free to take a lover as long as he approved of the man, and that he would claim any children she bore as a result thereof as his own.”

“I see.” James raked his fingers through his hair. Jane had been absolutely right. Mr. Thompson had just confirmed it.

“There is something else you ought to know, however. Something about your sister I did not approve of.”

James steeled himself for the worst. “And that is?”

“She lacked confidence and as such she needed someone to confirm how smart and pretty she was, and…with me gone from here, I suspect she started encouraging the attentions of someone else.”

Drawing to a halt, James stared at Mr. Thompson. “Do you know who?” When Mr. Thompson hesitated, James felt the urge to grab him by his shoulders and shake him. Again, he refrained and counted to ten instead. “Well?”

Mr. Thompson nodded. “She mentioned a couple of compliments she received from Mr. Snypes. But the tone of it was not to my liking, for it was clear she held him in low regard. So I started to fear she might be toying with him just to make herself feel better.”

This was not the easiest bit of information for James to swallow, for it seemed to suggest that the sister he’d always considered to be the kindest person in the world held a selfish and devious streak. It left him with a sick feeling in his stomach, yet the need to know more remained, like a weight pulling him down into perdition.

“She was obviously flawed,” James said, “yet your love for her never wavered.”

An unhappy bit of laughter was wrenched from Mr. Thompson’s throat. “Love is a funny thing. It cannot easily be swayed, so no, my love for her never wavered. Rather, it compelled me to sustain our bond, because I realized she needed my guidance. Had I severed all ties as I knew I ought, it would not have helped her at all.”

“It would only have pushed her toward a man she did not care for, simply so she could feel cherished.” James shook his head, hating the very idea of it, the fragility of his sister’s moral compass and the need she’d had for validation. “I should have been here for her or at the very least I should have made sure she spent more time in London than out here in the countryside with only an unfaithful father and a bitter mother for company.”

“You are right. It was not the best decision in the world, but you also had your own concerns to consider.”

The sentiment was of little comfort. Especially when James considered the time he’d spent here after his father’s death. He’d completely ignored Tatiana then, his attention fixed on picking up the reigns and securing a steady income. At the time, he’d told himself he was doing it primarily for his sister, so she could have the dowry she deserved. He now wondered if she wouldn’t have been better off with a brother who kept her company, took her out on occasion, and listened to what she’d wanted to say. Especially since Harrington would, all things considered, most likely have married her even if she didn’t have a substantial dowry.

“I will have to speak with Snypes now,” he muttered, more to himself than to Mr. Thompson.

“If you could refrain from mentioning my name when you do, I would appreciate that.”

Without promising anything, James quickened his step as he strode back to the house. He had every intention of tracking down his man of affairs so he could confront him about his relationship with Tatiana and what exactly it had entailed.