Jane’s legs shook as she walked away from the study. It had taken extreme focus for her to resist the Earl of Camden’s advances. So she’d feigned affront and indignation, tossed his proposal back like an insult, and pretended she’d never consider such a thing, when nothing could be further from the truth. Because she’d been considering it since the moment she’d first laid eyes on him, not just in the flesh but as nothing more than a painted canvas hung on display.

But this was not the twenty-first century. Casual flings did not exist between men and women unless the woman in question was a whore, so the thing that had stopped her was not a need to protect her virtue, for that was lost long ago. Nor was it the concern she had about falling in love with him and then having to leave him behind if she found a way back to her own time. It was the notion that Camden had thought she would happily have an affair with him, that she was the sort of woman who’d welcome his proposition without caring one whit about what happened afterward.

Ironically, she might have been okay with it if they hadn’t been in Regency England. She might have treated herself to a one night stand with him as a means by which to get over her awful breakup with Geoffrey. Both would have been consenting adults with no expectations of the other. But that was not the case here, so she supposed it came down to perspective.

“Goodness gracious, Jane!” It was Mrs. Fontaine and she was hastening toward her. “I have looked everywhere for you without a sign to be found. Heaven’s girl, where have you been?”

Jane straightened her spine and tilted her chin. “His lordship called for refreshments.”

“Well!” Mrs. Fontaine’s eyes were as sharp as a vulture’s. She dipped her chin while carrying out a careful assessment of Jane’s expression. “Lord Rockwell wishes to take a morning bath, so you’ll have to help Margaret heat up the water. Mr. Goodard has carried several pails upstairs already.”

“I’ll get to it right away,” Jane promised. She turned and marched toward the stairs and almost collided with Mr. Snypes who was rounding a corner.

He caught her swiftly by the elbow. “Careful, Jane.” His eyes met hers and although they were kind, they also conveyed a tremendous amount of pain.

Straightening, Jane thanked him for his assistance. “Are you all right?”

His lips widened into a tight smile. “Of course. It was just a slight collision.”

“That is not…I mean…Lady Tatiana’s death and—”

“She did not deserve what happened to her.” He glanced away, cleared his throat, and stepped around Jane. “If you will excuse me.”

Jane watched him go for a second while contemplating his reaction, then caught herself and proceeded to climb the stairs. She had a job to do after all, and getting thrown out because she failed to do it wasn’t an option.

So she spent her time sweeping and dusting, changing bed sheets, mending clothes, polishing silver, and preparing baths. The latter chore was the only one that filled her with longing. Going for days on end without washing properly was not something she was accustomed to, but requesting a bath would be considered highly inappropriate. She had a pitcher and basin like the rest of the servants and a washcloth that went along with it. But it was a far cry from the comfort of a warm bath, which was probably what propelled Lord Rockwell to whisper close to her ear as she started to leave his room, “You are more than welcome to join me, Jane.”

The thought of doing so did not agree with her at all. “Thank you, my lord, but I have other things to attend to.”

“Like Camden, no doubt,” he said with a chuckle.

Jane’s cheeks heated, but rather than flee, she straightened her spine and stared Rockwell down. “Perhaps.” What the hell was she doing, suggesting such a thing? All she knew was that she felt a need to put this arrogant aristocrat in his place.

But Rockwell didn’t seem to care. If anything, he looked amused. “Then you had better be off.” She’d almost reached the door when he added, “He deserves a lovely woman to ease his pain and offer some pleasure, so I hope you are up to the task.”

With her heart pounding in her chest, Jane slipped out into the hallway and pressed her back to the wall while struggling for breath. Good lord! Rockwell certainly didn’t lack the courage to speak his mind, did he? And she…Jane inhaled deeply and pushed away from the wall, aware her entire body trembled. All she could think of now was Camden and what Rockwell had said. Ease his pain. Offer some pleasure. She had the power to do precisely that, and damn it all if she didn’t want to.

His face lingered in her mind’s eye every second of every day. Her thoughts when she lay in bed at night invariably strayed to the wild imaginings of what it would be like if she only surrendered. And there was a pull – an undeniable pull that drew her to him in a way no other man had ever drawn her. It surpassed anything she’d ever felt with Geoffrey, and fighting it was proving to be a torturous affair.

But experience had taught her to think things through and avoid rash decisions based solely on sexual need. She had to be smart and consider the possibility that there was no going home. And what then? She had nowhere to go, no money, no family or friends beyond the people she knew here at Summervale. And they would all judge her if they discovered she’d slept with the master. Her reputation would be ruined.

With this in mind, she drew a lungful of air and made to return below stairs to the kitchen. But she didn’t get far before Mr. Snypes appeared once more, this time blocking her path near the stairs. “We meet again,” he said, coming toward her.

Jane slowed her progress until she stood immediately before him. “So we do.”

He rocked back on his heels and nodded. “You should have known her.”

The comment threw Jane momentarily off guard. “The earl’s sister?”

“Lady Tatiana would have liked you.”

“How can you possibly know that?”

He studied her for a moment. “Because you’re likeable, Jane. Don’t think I have not taken notice.”

“You’ve been watching me?” The idea sent a chill down her spine, not because Mr. Snypes wasn’t attractive or charming in his own sort of way, or because he’d given her any reason to fear him, but because of the loneliness that seemed to seep from his every pore.

A sad smile crept into place on his face. “It’s not a crime, admiring a pretty woman.” His hand suddenly rose to her cheek, his fingers brushing against her jaw.

“I believe that depends,” Jane muttered. Her heart was in her throat. This wasn’t normal. Having this man caress her like this without her offering any encouragement at all was wrong – a violation of her personal space and a reminder of her inferior position here.

Angered, she backed up a step and knit her brow, prepared to give him a piece of her mind. “Mr. Snypes! I—”

“You too, Jane?” He snorted and dropped his hand. “Am I so abhorrent that not even you, a mere maid, would take a fancy to me?”

“You forget yourself, sir.”

His jaw clenched and for a second she feared he might shout at her. But then his face twisted and he turned away, leaving her there to wonder at what had transpired.

Camden. She needed to speak with him right away. Because what she’d just witnessed was not okay. It left her feeling rattled and uncertain. More than that, it made her wonder who else had rejected Mr. Snypes and why it had been so important for him to win a little affection from a woman he barely knew.

But when she drew closer to the library, the angry words resonating from within gave her pause. Approaching the door, she paused to listen. Only one man could be heard and that was Camden, his voice cutting the air like a blade demanding justice. Tempted to retreat, Jane hesitated a second. The matter she wished to discuss with him could wait until the following day. And yet, she sensed she was needed – that he required an anchor in the storm he was caught up in.

Her knock was quick, followed by instant silence, and then the command for her to enter. She did so slowly, almost fearing what she would find. Her gaze went directly to Camden whose hair was in disarray, a few stray locks falling over his brow in a wild way that made him look rather dangerous.

Jane’s heartbeat quickened. She gave a hasty look in Harrington’s direction and saw the viscount appeared to be in a state of shock. “Lord Camden.” Her words came naturally, without any effort as she moved toward him. He did not move but stood as if frozen, his eyes dark with restrained fury as he stared across at his friend. “You must try to calm yourself.”

His jaw tightened against the clenching of teeth. “How can I when all the evidence I have collected suggests his involvement in Tatiana’s death?”

Jane sucked in a breath while Harrington held up both hands in visible protest. While the earl had been alone, the idea of Harrington’s possible involvement had apparently festered. Guilt squeezed at her heart. She’d made the suggestion while trying to understand all the facts they’d gathered so far. But that didn’t mean they’d arrived at the right conclusion yet.

“I would never harm your sister, Camden. You have to believe me!”

“You did not love her though, did you? More than that, she was in love with someone else, which means that your assurance about her being excited to wed you, all that talk about her longing to make your engagement public, cannot have been true. Can it?”

Harrington stared back at Camden while Jane quietly watched. It hadn’t occurred to her to warn the earl not to say anything about their findings until they had been confirmed. But it was too late for that now. His anguish had morphed into fury and clouded his judgment.

“I can explain,” Harrington said. He sounded tired and defeated, his eyes gazing blankly into the void. And then he blinked, appeared to focus and gather himself. “You are right about Tatiana loving another. She confessed it to me the day before she died, but the man in question was not a possible match for her. He—”

“Used to be her tutor,” Camden said.

Harrington nodded. “Our marriage would not have been a love match, but that does not mean I did not care for her. Her happiness mattered to me, Camden, which was why I promised to give her the freedom she wanted and allow her to maintain her connection with Mr. Thompson as long as she allowed me to pursue my own interests.”

“Are you saying you were encouraging her to keep Mr. Thompson as her lover?” Jane had certainly heard of open marriages but had never known the subject to be aired quite so candidly.

Harrington nodded. “It was what she wanted.”

“But…” Camden sounded thoroughly confused. He shook his head. “How could you have allowed that as her husband? How could you live like that without being bothered by it, regardless of whether you loved her or not?”

Harrington shrugged. “I am not selfish enough to insist upon holding her captive while I go philandering about as I please. It would not have been fair.”

“So you admit to me, her brother, that you would have been unfaithful?” Camden’s disbelief was evident in his tone.

“If that is what you wish to call it, then yes, Camden, that is precisely what I am admitting, though I do feel as though you are being shortsighted.”

“Really?”

“Yes!” Harrington closed the distance between them and stared straight into his friend’s angry gaze. “She could not marry Mr. Thompson, but with me she could have at least continued to enjoy the love he and she felt for each other while I offered friendship and protection.”

Camden shook his head. “What of children? How would you have handled it if she had conceived a child by him?”

Harrington’s gaze did not waver, though the edge of his mouth did twitch ever so slightly. And then, spontaneously, he reached up and cupped Camden’s cheek with his hand. “I would have been incredibly grateful, and I would have loved him or her as my own.”

Jane stood in stupefied silence, watching the troubled expression on Harrington’s face and the heartbreaking depth of emotion brightening his eyes, until his hand fell away and he took a step back. It seemed to take immeasurable amounts of control for him to gather himself, yet he did, his composure returning gradually to the well-polished gentleman she knew him to be. Not a hint of longing remained, hidden beneath a now cool façade as he turned away and walked to the door.

Once there, he paused to address his friend. “I hope we can put this matter behind us now, Camden. As you have no doubt discovered –” he darted a look in Jane’s direction “—our positions will often result in unhappiness. Your sister and I were merely attempting to find a workable solution.”

“Do you believe him?” Camden asked once Harrington was gone.

“I do.” Feeling a need to be near him, Jane moved a little closer to where he stood. “How long have you known him?”

Camden blinked and turned his head toward her. “Since the age of thirteen. We shared a room together at Eton.”

“And in all of those years, it never occurred to you that he was in love with you?”

Camden’s mouth dropped open, and for a long moment after, she could see him trying to make sense of that. Eventually he shook his head. “What?”

“It was very evident in the way he spoke to you. The way he touched you and the way he—”

“No, Miss Edwards. You cannot possibly suggest such a thing. It is not right!”

Sympathizing, Jane reached for his hand. She knew his nineteenth-century views would not be as accepting of such a thing as hers were. “Why?” she pressed, because she felt it was important for him to know who his friend really was and the sacrifice he’d been willing to make for Camden and his sister. “Because he’s a man?”

All he did was nod in response.

“And as a man, he must love a woman?”

“What you are suggesting goes against nature.” His voice had gone unbearably quiet.

“No, my lord. What I am suggesting is that your friend’s existence must be extraordinarily lonely. Imagine having to live with something like this in a world where being…different…is punishable by death?” She’d read about this as part of her research and knew that it would be another forty-three years before homosexuality only carried a prison sentence. “A man like him will never be free. Not in this lifetime. He will never know what it is to hold the one he loves in his arms or to marry that person before the eyes of God.”

Tears welled in her eyes as she spoke, the sadness she felt on Harrington’s behalf so excessive, she could not bear it. She placed a hand on Camden’s arm and pressed down gently. “Have some compassion, my lord, and consider the offer he made to your sister. It was kind and deserves your appreciation. You cannot deny that.”

He seemed to struggle with that for a moment, then he slowly raised his gaze to hers. “How can your view be so different from the norm?” He stared at her with inquisitive eyes. “It is as though you see a world I have yet to discover.”

How was she to respond to that?

“Had you not been here,” he added, before she could form an appropriate response, “I fear I would have lost control.” His hand settled against her waist, and although she knew she should not allow such intimate contact, she lacked the strength to deny it. “I need you, Jane. I need you more than I have ever needed anyone else before.”

The declaration coupled with the use of her first name left her feeling rather unbalanced. In fact, she could hardly breathe on account of the rapid beat of her pulse. It drummed swiftly beneath her skin, stirring her senses, and causing her nerves to collide in her belly. “My lord…” Dear God, if he kissed her, it would be her undoing.

“James.” His hand shifted, pulling her closer, so close she could see the traces of gold in his eyes and the hint of stubble beginning to emerge along his upper lip. “I want you to call me James.”

And before she could think, before she could form a plan of retreat, he dipped his head and pressed his mouth to hers, scattering all of her thoughts and making her mind go blank. The only thing that remained was acute awareness of how he felt and how her body responded. It was as if a burned-out furnace had been re-ignited, hotter than ever before, and although it might not have been wise and she might regret it later, she chose to live in the moment. Without hesitation, she wound her arms around his neck and threaded her fingers through the wisps of hair jutting over his jacket collar.

His hands pressed over her back in return, holding her to him with increased strength as he deepened the kiss with the same kind of urgency she was beginning to feel. It was an innate need to be as close to him as possible, to crawl beneath his skin, and cling to his very soul. It prompted her to run her hands over his shoulders, to grip his jacket, and wish they were somewhere else – somewhere infinitely more private and without the restraint of clothing.

“Christ, Jane.” His voice licked the edge of her mouth, sending ripples of pleasure along her spine. Breaths fell in swift succession, just as heavily as hers, brushing over her skin before being replaced by his mouth.

All she could do was sigh as he kissed his way along the length of her neck while his hands tracked a similar path down over her waist and her hips. And then there was nothing between them, just the perfect fit of his hardness against her softness. Leaning back slightly while holding her firmly in place, he gazed down upon her with parted lips and half-lowered eyelids.

“You cannot imagine what you do to me, Jane.”

Her cheeks heated with awareness. Desire was evident in his expression and in something else as well. “I can feel it,” she confessed, provoking a low chuckle from deep within his chest.

“The things you say…” He kissed her again, more slowly than before.

Enjoying the languor, she moved her mouth in time to his, imparting all that she felt for this man and savoring the moment as if it might be her last.

When he pulled away a short while later, his eyes held a hint of gratitude and despair. “We should stop for now.” He let her go, leaving her cold and alone. “At least until you have made up your mind.”

“How so?”

He smiled then, like a boy about to cause mischief. “I want you, Jane. I want you so much I can barely see straight when I think of it, but I also refuse to form an attachment to a woman who will not be completely honest with me.”

She stepped back swiftly, as if he’d slapped her. “First of all, you know I won’t be your mistress.”

“Then be my wife instead, Jane.

Had he really just offered marriage? Stunned, she shook her head. “That isn’t possible, James, and even if it were, I don’t know you well enough to consider such a permanent bond.”

“So you will not be my mistress or my wife? Yet you permit me to kiss you as though you would happily be both?”

She could understand his anger and his confusion. His values were so very different from those she’d grown up with. “You do not love me, Camden, and even if you did, I am not the sort of woman a man like you could ever think of marrying.”

Raising one hand, he raked his fingers roughly through his hair. “So this passion we share, this undeniable hunger we have for each other, means nothing to you?”

“It cannot. I refuse to allow it.” Already she felt the sting of regret, the loss she knew was about to come.

His features hardened and his eyes grew distant. “You want to marry for love and will settle for nothing less.” A grim bit of laughter was wrenched from his throat. “In truth, I have no choice but to admire your resolve, for it is stronger than mine. Where you are concerned, I am weak, ready to face the world’s disapproval if only to have you in my bed every night for the rest of my life.”

Jane shook her head in disbelief. “No. That is not weakness, James, it is folly. You are an earl, your father’s heir. Responsibility and duty—”

“Hang responsibility and duty!”

“You cannot mean that.” Jane forced herself to move away from him, aware that her heart was slowly being torn in two. She’d said what she’d felt was necessary in order to dissuade him, in order for her to have no regret or indecision when time came for her to leave. But rather than cast her aside, he’d offered her marriage.

Impossible.

And yet she could not help but consider it now, except she feared his sudden decision to make a scandalous choice for his future was born from the wrong reasons. All things considered, she suspected it had everything to do with physical attraction and hormones and very little to do with any developing form of affection.

In light of what she’d left behind, her break from Geoffrey and the knowledge that he had cared more about restricting her to a box she did not fit into than he had about her, made her want to ensure she made the right choice for herself where James was concerned. Because in the end, wanting to wrap her arms around a man and kiss him senseless wasn’t enough. More was required if the relationship was to last—a point for her to keep in mind in the early nineteenth century where marriage was for life and divorce a thing of fiction.

And that was provided she stayed – provided she chose to give up the life she’d always known for a man she’d met just a few days ago. She almost laughed at the preposterousness of it.

Overwhelmed, she dropped into the nearest chair and placed her head in her hands. She had to try and think clearly on this. She had to—

“Will you share your concerns with me?”

His voice was close, and she realized he’d lowered himself to his haunches, his face now level with hers.

“My concerns…” She shook her head. How on earth could she ever explain when her world had been flipped upside down and her mind was an absolute mess?

“You are clearly distressed.” His hand settled lightly upon her knee. “Confide in me, Jane. Allow me to help.”

Lowering her hands, she met his anxious gaze. “I wish I could but I can’t. You would never believe what I tell you, and your ensuing distrust of me would be crippling.”

Tilting his head, he seemed to consider that for a moment before eventually saying, “And yet it is your distrust of me that keeps you from opening up. How do you suppose I feel about that?” When she failed to answer, he asked a different question. “Do you still have feelings for this fiancé of yours? The one you ran away from? Is that what prevents you from accepting my offer?”

“No. No, it is nothing like that.”

“What then? Your past or…” He swallowed, tightened his grip on her knee. “I would not judge you harshly if you were to tell me your innocence has been compromised.”

Steeling herself, Jane nodded. “That is part of it.”

He had the decency not to look the least bit horrified by this admission, which must have come as a blow. “What else is there?” he asked.

To tell him the truth was unwise. Jane knew this instinctively. It did not take a genius to discern what the consequence might be if she did so, and yet the insistence with which he looked at her compelled her to be honest at last. “Promise me that whatever your thoughts on what I’m about to tell you, you won’t throw me out. Promise me you’ll let me stay no matter what your opinion of me might be from this moment onward.”

“Calm yourself, Jane. I promise to do what I can to help you with whatever problem you are facing.” He brushed a lock of hair from her forehead with the gentlest stroke of his fingers. “It must be dire indeed to invoke such fear in your voice. Your entire body is trembling.”

She licked her lips and tried to ignore the pounding of her heart. “You know how you think I’m different from any other woman you’ve ever met?” When he nodded she said, “Well, that’s because I am.”

“In what sense?”

It took every effort to force the next few words from her mouth. “I’m not from here, James. Not just from England but from this time.”

Incomprehension marred his features. “What does that mean?”

“I’ll tell you, but you’ll have to keep an open mind.”

“I will do my best,” he promised.

“Know that I am just as stunned by what has happened to me as you will be to hear of it. Indeed, it defies all logic and comprehension, but the fact of the matter is that I was born on March 1, 1990, almost two hundred years from now.”

James blinked and a rapid half laugh escaped him. “You cannot be serious. You cannot honestly think I would believe such a thing might be possible? I mean…” He stood and stepped away from her. “All I wanted from you was honesty, and instead you come up with this fabrication, this utter nonsense?”

She stood as well. “Why do you think I kept it from you?” When he retreated another step, she advanced. “Because I knew this would be your reaction. But consider what you know. Think of the suddenness with which I arrived here, of the way I was dressed, the way I speak, and the things I know or…don’t know.”

His hesitance was obvious. “I feel as though you are trying to make a fool of me, Jane. What you are suggesting is utterly impossible.”

“Of course it is, yet here I am.” Emotion crept into her voice. “Do you think this is what I wanted? That I’m enjoying this?” Her eyes began to sting as desperation took hold. “It’s not as if I can simply board the next ship back to New York. Going home is not that easy for me.”

He studied her while she silently willed him to believe her.

Eventually he shook his head. “You must have hit your head or…suffered an attack of some sort. Perhaps I should send for my physician and have him take a look at you.”

Jane squeezed her eyes shut to stop the tears that threatened from falling. “No,” she murmured. “That won’t be necessary. I’m quite all right.”

“I seriously doubt that. Especially not if you actually believe what you have just told me is true.”

Opening her eyes, she saw the sympathy etched upon his brow in the form of a frown. Her lips quivered ever so slightly. Telling him the truth had obviously been a mistake. He thought her delusional, which was probably what her opinion of him would have been if he’d arrived on the balcony of her New York apartment and told her he’d come from the nineteenth century.

His reaction right now was normal, but after what they’d just shared and the bond she’d felt forming between them, it made her feel more alone than she had before she’d confided her secret. It was as if a hole had opened inside her, swallowing up all hope and leaving her drained.

Drawing a fortifying breath, she decided to push aside her despair and focus on helping him instead. A change of subject was certainly welcome, so she said, “I came across Mr. Snypes on my way down here. He said the most curious thing.” She then described the strange encounter, adding that he’d behaved as though a recent rejection had pained him. “If your sister was the subject of his affection and she dismissed his advances then—”

“Snypes was with me the evening my sister was killed. He and I were discussing a potential business investment when we heard Tatiana scream.”

Jane tried to envision the events as they must have happened to the best of her ability. “How long had the two of you been talking before then?”

“For about ten minutes or so.”

“And what about the rain?”

His frown deepened. “What do you mean?”

She was following a train of thought that might not lead anywhere, but if she’d learned anything from all the detective shows she’d watched, it was the importance of facts. “Had it been raining for long or had the downpour just started at the time when you heard the scream?”

“I do not recall. I…I think it came on suddenly.”

Jane nodded. “So then, Mr. Snypes could still have committed the crime before the two of you sat down together to discuss your business investment.”

“No.” He shook his head. “As I said, he was with me when Tatiana screamed.”

“Except we have to consider the possibility that the scream you heard wasn’t Tatiana’s.” Jane watched as James’s eyes widened. “What if it was someone else’?”

A nearby clock ticked away the seconds while she waited for him to respond. Eventually he said, “I suppose that is possible. But then why would they not have come forward?”

“There are those who do not wish to get involved with something like this. Especially if they don’t feel as though they are able to help in any way.”

“But if it was a maid who screamed, perhaps upon seeing Tatiana on the terrace, then there could be a gap in the timeline there – a series of minutes between the murder and the scream – during which it would have been possible for Snypes to commit the crime. Even though I am loath to believe him capable of such a thing.”

“I understand. It is just that we have to consider all angles.” She held his gaze. “There’s also your butler, Hendricks, the grooms, your footmen, your valet, and then of course Rockwell.”

“I have known them all for years. My servants are loyal and Rockwell is my friend.”

“So is Harrington, yet you did not know the most important thing about him.”

James groaned and thrust a hand through his hair. “How am I to face him now? The thought of discussing eligible young ladies and marriage prospects with him from this point onward seems absurd.”

“I think the most important thing to remember is that he’s your friend and that it’s your duty to keep his secret.” She smiled a little. “Besides, he doesn’t know that you know this. Perhaps pretending you don’t will be the easiest way forward for both of you.”

“You might be right.” James took a deep breath and released it while shoving his hands into his trouser pockets. “Thank you for advising me. For helping me with all of this. I hope you can forgive my inability to believe what you have told me about yourself.”

She chuckled slightly. “I wouldn’t have believed it either if I were in your position. To me, however, it’s reality. It’s the reason why I’m wary of getting involved with you.”

Before he could say anything in response to that, his mother entered the room. Her expression was hard, her eyes assessing as she looked from one to the other.

“What is going on here?” she asked, her voice rattling what remained of Jane’s composure. When Lady Camden narrowed her gaze on her, she took an instinctive step back. “Is my son keeping you from your chores, Jane?”

“No, my lady.” Jane bobbed a curtsey that earned a frown from the dowager countess. “He merely—” The frown deepened, cutting her off. Flustered, she muttered a quick, “Excuse me,” then headed for the door and disappeared into the hallway beyond, leaving James to deal with the most unnerving woman Jane had ever had the displeasure of knowing.