Enjoying a game of cards with Harrington, Rockwell, and Mr. Thompson, James did his best to forget about Jane. But it was impossible. Their conversation earlier in the day, coming right on the heels of an incredible bout of lovemaking, had broken his spirit. It was as if his life had lost its luster, and everything around him was dulled by shades of grey.

Not even his friends’ good cheer could brighten his mood, giving him a horrifying insight into the minds of those who chose to end things when it got too hard to carry on. Not that he would ever resort to such drastic measure, but he felt he understood it better now than he ever had before.

Playing an ace, he took the final trick, effectively winning the game. He looked up and tried to smile. “Thank you, gentlemen. Shall we play another round or would you prefer to go for a ride?”

Rockwell frowned. “A ride would be welcome, especially since we were stopped from going this morning because of the rain. But only if you tell us what is troubling you.”

James stood, taking the deck of cards with him with the intention of putting it back in the box where it belonged. It gave him a chance to stall and to not have to face the inquisitive eyes now on him. “I am merely concerned about solving my sister’s murder. With each passing day, it seems to grow more impossible.”

“Perhaps it was a stranger after all,” Harrington suggested. “Maybe a poacher she encountered or a thief she caught by surprise.”

Mr. Thompson, whose expression had gone from relaxed to glum at the change in subject, moved his chair back from the table and stretched out his legs. “I would like to think it was not someone she knew and trusted, even if that would mean the man is still out there.”

“Perhaps,” James conceded just as the door to the parlor opened and his mother swept into the room. She looked as somber as he felt with her black mourning gown and the sort of expression that threatened to scold.

Harrington, Rockwell, and Thompson all stood in order to greet her. She glanced at each of them in turn before pinning her gaze on James. “This house feels like a mausoleum.” The comment was gravely spoken, accentuating her words. “Not exactly the ambiance one wishes to strive for when entertaining guests, Camden.”

So she was here to offer her censure. “What do you propose I do about it?”

Inviting Lady Elise and her mother had been her suggestion, so if she felt they needed entertainment, she could bloody well figure something out on her own. He was already doing his part to ensure the men he’d asked to join him were not bored out of their minds, even though he was starting to wish they would all just leave. Keeping company was no longer something he felt like doing.

“We could visit the assembly room,” she declared.

James almost choked in response, prompting a cough from which it took him a second to recover. “I beg your pardon?” His mother detested the local assembly room and had adamantly protested every effort he’d ever made to visit.

“It will liven things up,” she said, “make everyone forget about death for an evening.”

He stared at her. “You cannot be serious! Going dancing after a death in the family would be highly inappropriate. We need to wait at least a month before engaging in any social events.” How could she suggest such a thing when she’d always been such a stickler for protocol?

She waved a dismissive hand. “You need not look as though you are enjoying yourself, if that is what concerns you. Nor do you have to dance, though partnering with Lady Elise for one set would not be so very terrible.” She gave a curt nod. “Our guests deserve a bit more entertainment than what we have been providing. We owe it to them as hosts.”

“Perhaps—”

“You will not stay home if that is what you are about to suggest. We shall all attend and make the most of it. Is that understood?”

He glowered at her while wondering what it might feel like to tell her to go to the devil. Instead, he said, “You and I will discuss this later.” In a more private setting. He certainly had no intention of forcing anyone into such an exhibition.

“No, James. We will not.” And with that final remark, she exited the room like a storm drifting out over the horizon.

Confounded and furious, James stared after her retreating form. She would apparently do anything to pair him off with Lady Elise. But this time she went too far.

“She cannot be serious,” Mr. Thompson said when no one else spoke. “You are expected to mourn for at least three months after losing a sister. To attend a dance little more than a week after suffering her loss is unheard of. People will talk and their words will not be kind, Camden.”

“I am aware,” James said, “which is why I have no intention of going along with this mad scheme of hers. The three of you can attend the dance if you wish. In fact, I encourage you to do so, since a change of scenery will likely do you all some good.”

“I prefer not to,” Mr. Thompson muttered.

“Tatiana was my fiancée,” Harrington said. “It would not be right.”

“Then you should take your mother and sister out, Rockwell,” James said. “I am sure they will find it diverting.”

Rockwell nodded. “Perhaps, though I know my sister will sorely miss you, Camden.” He leaned back more in his seat and studied James. “She hopes to receive your attentions, but since her arrival, you have shown little interest.”

“Well,” James muttered, ignoring the frantic beat of his heart, “that is about to change. See if she wishes to walk with me later today, would you? The weather has cleared. It seems we shall have a pleasant afternoon.”

Rockwell inclined his head and smiled. “Certainly.” Picking up the glass of brandy he’d poured for himself before the last game of cards, he took a sip. “Nothing would please me more than for us to be brothers.”

* * *

“Do you know when Mr. Goodard will return?” Jane asked Hendricks.

That morning, with her nerves and emotions in a tangled mess, she’d forgotten to mention her latest findings to James. Or perhaps she ought to think of him as Camden again? No. That would be impossible for her to do after the intimacy they’d shared. Either way, she would proceed with her investigation and see what else she could discover. Speaking with Mr. Goodard was the next logical step.

“In another half hour or so, I should think.” Hendricks peered down at Jane in that butlery way of his until she felt like squirming. “Something I can help you with?”

“No. It’s nothing urgent,” she assured him. “I was merely hoping to talk with him.

Hendricks eyed her carefully, and she wondered if he believed her. She would probably never know since he offered no hint of his thoughts before turning away and heading toward Mrs. Fontaine’s office.

Jane went in the opposite direction, taking the servant stairs up to the servant’s floor with the intention of cleaning the hallway there. Anything to keep her mind distracted from the anguish of having lost James forever. Because frankly, she couldn’t think of what to say to make things right again between them. After all that had happened and the words they’d spoken, even if she told him she loved him, she doubted he would believe her. The only way to convince him of the contents of her heart was to show him. Except she wasn’t sure how. Not without opportunity, which she doubted she’d have since he’d made it quite clear they would not be spending more time together than what was required between a master and a servant. And with Mrs. Fontaine present, Jane believed he would simply convey any messages he might have for her through his housekeeper.

Distraught and feeling more lost and lonely than she’d ever felt in her life, Jane swept the floor. Knocking on the bedchambers in turn to ensure they were empty, she entered each room and cleaned them all individually.

It wasn’t until she reached her own bedchamber that she chose to take a break. Leaning against the wall she tried to banish the hurt that surfaced whenever a door at the front of her mind creaked open and memories of James spilled through it.

Placing one hand against her belly, she pressed against her shuddering nerves in a hopeless attempt to calm them. God, what an idiot she was. She loved James, but when it had come down to acting on that feeling, she’d been a coward, running from the unknown and clinging to something that might not be hers again.

“Stupid, stupid, stupid.” She might be stuck in the past forever now without even being able to share it with him.

Annoyed with herself, she glanced out the window and stilled, her eyes following the two people who walked across the lawn below. Jane swallowed, the effort drawing her awareness to the painful lump in her throat. Because there James was, keeping company with Lady Elise and laughing in response to some delightful thing she was saying.

Jane’s nails dug against the palms of her hands as she balled them tightly at her sides and willed away the tears. It was only a few hours since she’d climbed from his bed, the smell and feel of his body moving in time with hers, his whispered words and the mind-numbing pleasure she’d found in his arms so fresh she could practically reach out and touch the memory of it. And then she’d gone and ruined it with uncertainty and a lack of commitment to him. She’d failed to convey how much he meant to her and how agonizing life would be without him by her side.

Because rather than offer immediate assurance, she’d hesitated, weighing her options while trying to envision the various possibilities. And then, to make matters worse, she’d voiced her doubt, leaving no question in his mind that her feelings for him, her willingness to do whatever it took for them, did not match his own resolve.

Below on the lawn, James linked his arm with Lady Elise’s as the pair moved out of sight. Jane pressed her hand to her mouth, stifling a sob. Searing pain sliced through her chest, and her hand came up, clutching at the windowsill for support while her body shook with agonizing tremors and wet streaks dampened her cheeks. This was all her fault. She had no one else to blame for the pain she was now enduring.

Time heals all wounds. Wasn’t that the saying? She wiped at her tears with the heel of her hands while gulping down a series breaths. Shaking her head, she stared blankly at the cloudless sky before turning away from the window. No. Nothing would ever make this go away. Not even two hundred years. Because somewhere in time, James would still have walked away from her, and that wasn’t something she would ever get over.

Hating the state she was in, she determined to pull herself together. James still needed her help. Solving Tatiana’s murder and seeing justice served was important to him. Of course it was. And… She straightened her spine, crossed to her dresser, and pulled a handkerchief out of the top drawer. Feeling sorry for herself would get her nowhere. Yes, it sucked that she’d only just realized she loved James with all her heart the moment she’d lost him. And of course, the fact that she wasn’t ‘right’ for him or that they hadn’t been meant to be together even though she’d never felt she belonged with someone as much as she belonged with him, was a difficult truth to face.

But she was a New Yorker, damn it, an independent woman who’d kicked a mugger’s ass once when he’d tried to steal her purse on the subway. She squared her shoulders and glanced at the small oval mirror that hung on the wall. She’d lost that person in her breakup with Geoffrey and the crazy turn her life had taken since then. Her confidence had dwindled because she’d been out of her element and she’d panicked.

Considering her face which looked so plain without her usual makeup, she made her decision. It was time to buck up, as her mom used to say, and get on with the day. However bad things seemed to be going, she hadn’t been arrested or sentenced to death for Tatiana’s murder, for which she was undeniably grateful.

She inhaled deeply and blew out a breath. As much as she disliked having to face James right now, he needed to know about Mr. Goodard.

Hopefully whatever the footman had to say would shed some light on the murder and bring them one step closer to solving it.

* * *

“You have such a beautiful property, Camden,” Lady Elise said, her voice almost lyrical in rhythm.

James knew it was the sort of speech pattern she’d probably spent a decade trying to perfect, pronouncing each word with effortless skill and with a refined delicacy most young ladies would envy. He, on the other hand, hated it, for it conveyed a degree of pretentiousness he’d grown weary of lately. After meeting Jane and growing accustomed to her blatant candor. There was nothing practiced about the way she spoke. She just did it, in the same way the working class did it. And yet, she still managed to convey a higher degree of education and cultural acumen than most of the people he’d met.

“Thank you,” he said, reminding himself he ought to respond and at least pretend he was enjoying Lady Elise’s company instead of thinking about someone else. “I much prefer it to my London townhouse, not only because it is bigger but because it is not in London.”

She glanced up at him in surprise. “You do not enjoy going to Town?”

“Not really,” he admitted. “I only go because I must. When Parliament is in session. But London is a filthy place, and I would much prefer to stay here.”

“But…” She glanced away before saying, “There is very little entertainment in the countryside, whereas London has the theatre, the opera, an endless list of social events, museums, teashops, and restaurants.”

He understood her, even though he didn’t agree. In his opinion it was all a lot of noise and pressure. But she was young, without a property of her own to spend her time and energy on. Of course being in Town would hold greater appeal to her than a quiet life secluded from Society. Perhaps this was part of the reason why Jane found it hard to stay. She’d told him the New York she knew was larger than anything he could imagine. It pulsed with life and had buildings spearing the clouds. Which stood in stark contrast with what he could offer her here at Summervale.

“Nevertheless,” he muttered, burying the ache in his heart and the raw wound burning in his chest, “I prefer the peace and quiet available here.”

“So then, what you are saying is you would spend as little time in London as possible? No more than what is absolutely necessary?”

“My life is here, Lady Elise. The estate keeps me busy and fills me with satisfaction.” He smiled down at her, aware she did not find his comment compelling. “When I am away, I long to return.” And yet, he’d been willing to give it all up for Jane, with the chance of never coming back, because he’d fallen in love with her and had foolishly thought she felt the same way.

“If I may be honest,” Lady Elise said with a great degree of thoughtfulness, “I cannot see myself living such a life. I know your mother invited me here so we could become better acquainted. My brother has said the most wonderful things about you over the years, and based on the few interactions we have had since the first time I met you, I must confess I thought you would make a wonderful match.”

“But the truth is we would make each other unhappy.”

“Yes. I believe we would.” Coming to a halt, she gazed up at him with the bluest eyes he’d ever seen, leaving no doubt in his mind she would have no trouble at all securing a husband for herself. It just wouldn’t be him. “Our interests are not aligned, and while I know Mama and Rockwell would both laugh at me for saying this, I do hope to marry a man with whom I enjoy spending time – a man with whom I long to share my days.”

“You hope for love,” he told her simply.

“Is that silly of me?” she asked. “Am I being naïve?”

“Not at all.” Reaching up, he cupped her cheek with brotherly affection. “You deserve it, and more than that, I can tell you as someone who knows, it is not impossible to find.” Even if it didn’t always lead to the happily ever after one hoped for.

She smiled with more warmth than he’d thought her capable of, as if the honesty of their conversation had stripped away the façade and allowed him to see the real Lady Elise. “Thank you for confiding in me. I would have hated to get between you and the woman you love.”

Appreciating the sentiment even if it felt as though the future he’d hoped to share with Jane was now forever out of reach, he leaned forward, just enough to place a kiss on Lady Elise’s cheek. “Thank you,” he whispered close to her ear. “I—”

A sudden gasp cut him off, prompting him to straighten and turn just in time to glimpse the grey wool hem of a skirt disappearing behind the corner of the building. Jane. It had to be. He dropped Lady Elise’s hand as if burned and took a step back. “Forgive me, but I—”

“Go after her,” she urged without bothering to hide the pity she felt on his behalf at the sudden realization of who his heart belonged to. “I will be fine. Now hurry.” She jutted her chin in the direction Jane had gone, and James forced his feet into motion, hurrying after Jane as quickly as he could and just in time to see the door to the herb garden swing shut.

Following her through to the tiny courtyard where square box planters held all sorts of fragrant plants, James called to her before she managed to pull the door to the pantry open. “Jane!”

She froze, her fingers on the handle while giving him nothing but her back. “What I want to tell you can easily wait until you’re no longer busy,” she said, her voice so flat it unnerved him.

“I have time now,” he said, taking a step toward her.

She kept her body and face averted, refusing to look in his direction and still ready to pull the door open and bolt. “I’m sorry for interrupting your courtship. That was not my intention.”

Moving closer still, he studied her posture, the rigidity of her body suggesting she might be forcing herself to stay calm. But if she didn’t love him, then… “Jane.” He spoke her name softly while reaching past his own hurt in order to try and see hers. “What you saw was nothing more than a friendly bit of reassurance.”

She winced. “Is that what you call it?” Her face snapped around, and her eyes, pooling like lakes on the verge of overflowing, met his, stabbing him with equal parts pain and anger and something else – something so much stronger it stole his breath. “You ended things with me and promptly gave your attention to her. And while I know I shouldn’t care, while I know I have no right to do so when I don’t even belong here and she is everything you need in a wife – the perfect package, so to speak – I cannot ignore the deep sense of the loss I’m feeling inside. It’s as if I died today, and all that remains is an empty shell.”

His hand settled upon her arm, and without even thinking about what he was doing, he drew her toward him, holding her close while his other hand soothed over her back. “You broke my heart this morning,” he murmured.

“I broke my own as well,” she choked against his shoulder. “I…This was the first rain I’ve seen since coming here, the first hope I’d had of ever returning to my own time, and I got carried away with it. I’m sorry.”

“And I should have understood that.” He knew this now that he’d had some time to think. “I should have known how difficult it would be, impossible even, for you to choose between the life you have always known and a man you only just met one week ago.”

Leaning back ever so slightly, she gazed into his face, and although tears clung to her lashes, her eyes conveyed a soul-deep connection he knew he wasn’t imagining. And then she said, “It’s no longer impossible. In fact, it’s really quite clear that I belong where you are James, no matter when that might be.”

His thumb stroked across her jaw as her arms wound around his neck. She was the most incredible woman he’d ever known, the most remarkable part of his life, and the fact he’d met her, the odds of it so unlikely, it rendered him speechless. So rather than say what words could not convey, he drew her face to his and kissed her with all the love and devotion that burned through his veins.

She answered by parting her lips and pulling him closer, matching his fervor as he deepened the kissed and pressed up against her. The scent of her was familiar, infusing his senses with sweetness and mending his heart. “Jane.” Her name was swallowed by her answering kiss, the hunger and boldness with which she delivered it cutting him off at the knees.

His hands clasped her hip and her back, holding her to him while the heat flowing through him evolved into urgent need, and he started to wish they were anywhere else – somewhere private – ideally in a room with a bed. The throaty moan with which she responded suggested she felt the same, but this was not the place for that. Not when any number of people could come dashing through the pantry door at any moment.

With this in mind, he loosened his hold and took a step back. “May I suggest we forge ahead, heedless of what might happen in the future? Nothing is ever certain, Jane, not even for an ordinary couple. There are always obstacles to overcome—”

“None as challenging as what we face, I suspect.” Her hand found his, clutching it tightly. “But you’re right. All this time I’ve been letting fear rule me. It made me sabotage what we had before even giving us a proper chance. So yes, let’s forge ahead and see where things lead.”

He kissed her again, his happiness overshadowing any threat of scandal their engagement and ensuing marriage would cause, along with the threat of one day losing her. Because loath as he was to face it, he knew deep in his heart that choosing him over going home would not be as simple for her as either of them wanted it to be. For now, though, he pushed that thought as far back as it would possibly go, burying it deep beneath the pleasure of her kiss.

She laughed against his lips, and he pulled back to see her face, illuminated by a ray of sunshine spilling over the courtyard wall. “You’re a terrible distraction,” she said, playfully slapping his arm. “You almost made me forget what I came to tell you.”

“Only almost?” He deliberately arched an eyebrow and infused his smile with a touch of mischief.

Her expression sobered. “Considering the importance of the matter, I’d say your ability to make me forget all about it deserves a pretty high score.”

“The things you say.” He shook his head, surprised as always by her unusual turn of phrase. Recalling what she’d just told him, he made an effort to focus. “What did you wish to tell me?”

She pulled out of his embrace and crossed her arms as if to discourage him from further intimacy. “Are you aware it was Mr. Goodard who helped your sister and Mr. Thompson with their exchange of letters?”

James stared at her. “Indeed I was not.” He thought back on the conversation he’d had with Tatiana’s former tutor himself and shook his head. “Mr. Thompson never mentioned it to me.”

“Well, I find it kind of interesting that Mr. Goodard didn’t say anything either when you questioned him about his relationship to your sister. What was his alibi for the night she died, if you don’t mind my asking?”

“He said Hendricks gave him permission to retire early on account of a headache, so as far as anyone knows, he was upstairs asleep.”

“But that’s not really an alibi, is it? Unless someone checked to see that was what he was doing.”

Sighing, James raked his fingers through his hair. “I suppose so, but what on earth would be his motive for wanting to hurt Tatiana and then kill Betsy?”

“How should I know?” Jane’s shoulders slumped in response to a deep exhale. She glanced at the sky before looking back at him. “We know your sister was a bit of a flirt.”

“She was more than that,” James muttered, disliking the reminder.

“So maybe she led Goodard on as well, and he got angry when all she used him for was passing love notes to another man?”

“I don’t know, but we should definitely speak with him right away. Or rather, I should speak with him.” He was already itching to do so, to uncover the truth Mr. Goodard had kept to himself.

“And after that, I suggest you question everyone again while keeping everything you’ve discovered so far in mind.” She gave him a sympathetic smile. “Because no one has left here since it happened, which means if it wasn’t a stranger, then whoever committed the act is still here in this house.”