So Jane smiled at her aunt, squared her shoulders, and marched into the assembly room.

It was blazing hot in that crush of bodies, so hot that Jane felt almost overwhelmed by the blast of warmth. She had less than half an hour to find Dorling, to explain to him what she needed.

But it was not Dorling her eyes lit on as she perused the crowd. It was another man entirely.

“Oh,” she said aloud. She had to be imagining him—those eyes, alight with some inner humor, pale blue and sparkling. That bright shock of hair. Those spectacles.

He was dressed in dark clothing with long tails on his coats. The cuffs of his shirt gleamed whitely at his sleeves. His hair shone in the lamp light like a bright beacon. He looked about, adjusted his spectacles on his nose, and saw her.

It had been months since she’d seen him last, and the sight of him felt like a blow—a welcome blow, one that nearly knocked her over with the weight of relief. Everyone else in the room vanished. There was only him—him and her—and the distance and time that lay between them seemed to dwindle away.

It took every ounce of self-control that Jane had—every last scrap of restraint—to keep herself from dashing across the room into his waiting arms.

But…her aunt was watching.

And so she waited demurely, trying to ignore the unsightly trickle of sweat that slid down her back, trying not to scratch at her br**sts. She waited, talking to others with her mind in a daze.

How had he come so quickly?

Oh, it was possible, of course, that he might have done so. But he would have had to get on a train almost immediately after he’d received her telegram.

She was still dazed when Mrs. Laurence came up with Oliver in tow. Jane barely heard the words of introduction; she had no idea what story he had told. She only nodded in dumbfounded agreement when he asked if he might walk her around the room.

“Miss Fairfield,” he said with a smile.

“Mr…” She looked up at him. She couldn’t even remember if he’d used his real name in introduction. She hadn’t been listening. “Mr. Cromwell,” she finally said.

An amused light came into his eyes.

“You came.” She wanted to clutch his arm.

“Of course I did. I told you I would.” He glanced down at her gown. “What ungodly color are you wearing?”

“Green,” she said. “Serpent-belly green. Or perhaps it’s the green of a cloud of poisonous chlorine gas.”

“And yet nobody is shrieking and averting their eyes.” He gave her a smile. “Nice trick. How do you manage it?”

She gave him a brilliant smile. “Simple,” she said, adjusting the diamonds at her neck. “I already told you. It’s the heiress effect.” She smiled at him again. “You came, Oliver. I can’t believe you came. And so quickly, too.”

“Didn’t I tell you?” he smiled at her. “You’re not alone.”

“But it’s been months.” She looked over at him. “We only knew each other a few weeks. I assumed that you would be…” But maybe he was. She looked up at him in horror.

“I’m not married,” he said simply. “Nor engaged. Nor even courting.”

She wasn’t going to let herself feel glad about that. She refused to do so.

But her refusal didn’t seem to be working. A lightness pervaded her.

He gave her dress a pointed stare. “Although if I had realized that you were trying to blind the entire assembly, I would have brought blinkers. As for a horse.” He held up his hands to either side of his head, demonstrating. “They would keep me from getting skittish.”

They were smiling at each other, and for the first moment since that morning, Jane felt as if everything would turn out. Somehow.

“Now,” he said, stepping closer. “Is this a place where we can talk about what you need, or shall we arrange for a better time?”

“Time.” She laughed. “In fifteen minutes, I am supposed to meet the Honorable George Dorling.” She gulped. “For purposes of eloping with him.”

Something shifted in his expression—something that washed that humor out of his visage. He took a step toward her. “I’ll be damned if you do.”

He wasn’t married. She had sent him a nonsensical telegram, listing only the name of the city, and he had come in a matter of hours. Jane wasn’t particularly good at figuring people out, but even she could add two and two and come up with a number larger than three. She felt herself smiling despite everything.

He, on the other hand, took a deep breath and shook his head. He looked upward, and then…

“Terribly sorry.” His voice was a little rough. “That was overdone on my part.” His hand curled into a fist. “Is that what you want?”

“It’s not like that,” Jane said. “It’s a false elopement.”

He frowned.

“Or it will be. There’s no time to explain. I have to go bribe my pretend-bridegroom. You see, if he is pretending to elope with me, my aunt will think I’ve gone to Gretna Green. If she thinks I have merely run off on my own, she’ll let my uncle know I’m on my way. Then I’ll never be able to steal my sister in time.”

Any other man might have been taken aback at that. Oliver simply nodded.

“That makes almost no sense,” he said. “But I gather we’re on a tight schedule. I suppose you have an elopement to fake, and then…”

“Then we must make our way to Cambridge. As swiftly as possible.”

“That part I can manage. I’ll find transportation.” Oliver frowned. “If we’re going to Cambridge, and we don’t want your aunt to know…there are no trains any longer tonight. She’ll hear if we stay at a hotel in town.”

“I had my friend bring a valise for me to the Stag and Hounds over in Burton Joyce. I planned to overnight there and then catch the early train.”

He nodded. “I’ll have my things sent over and a separate room arranged.” He paused. “God, Jane…” His hand twitched toward her, but he brought it back swiftly. All he said was, “It’s good to see you. Go bribe your swain.”

She laughed.

He started to leave and then turned back. “I wasn’t expecting this.”

She shook her head in mock solemnity. “Nobody expects a false elopement.”

He reached out and touched her hand. Jane had to bite her lip to keep from grabbing hold of him and refusing to ever let go.