“I have hurt you,” she said, getting to her feet. “You will be pleased to know that you have had your revenge. If my heart was not cold before, it is now. I have given and given of my very self because your need has been so great. I was not given a chance to reach out for myself, for the comfort of your understanding and sympathy and friendship. There was not enough time—just one week and it ended so abruptly yesterday. Go. I am weary too. I want to be alone. You feel betrayed, your grace? Well, I do too.”
He did not stop her this time when she turned to leave the room. He watched her go. He stood where he was for a long time.
His heart ached.
The heart he had not known he possessed.
He could not trust her. He would not trust her. Not again.
Hadhe betrayed her?Hadit been sympathy and friendship and love she had given after all?Hadshe intended sharing herself with him as he had shared himself with her?
Jane.
Lady Sara Illingsworth.
Ah, Jane.
He strode from the room and from the house. It was only when he was some distance away that he remembered ordering her to remain until he returned. But she was not one to take orders meekly. He should have made her promise. Devil take it, he should have thought of that.
But surely she would not leave the house now. Surely she would wait.
He did not go back.
IFLADYWEBB WASsurprised when her butler handed her a card on a tray and informed her even before she could look at it that the Duke of Tresham was standing in her hall below requesting the honor of a few minutes of her time, she did not show it by the time Jocelyn was announced. She rose from a small escritoire, where she was apparently engaged in writing letters.
“Tresham?” she said graciously.
“Ma’am.” He made her a deep bow. “I thank you for granting me some of your time.”
Lady Webb was an elegant widow of about forty with whom he was acquainted, though not well. She moved in a more civilized set than any with which he usually consorted. He held her in considerable respect.
“Do have a seat,” she offered, indicating a chair while she seated herself on a sofa close by, “and tell me what brings you here.”
“I believe,” he said, taking the offered chair, “you have an acquaintance with Lady Sara Illingsworth, ma’am.”
She raised her eyebrows and regarded him more keenly. “She is my goddaughter,” she said. “Do you have any news of her?”
“She was employed at Dudley House as my nurse for three weeks,” he said, “after I had been shot in the leg in a, ah, duel. She came upon me in Hyde Park while it was happening. She was on her way to work at a milliner’s at the time. She was using an alias, of course.”
Lady Webb was sitting very still. “Is she still at Dudley House?” she asked.
“No, ma’am.” Jocelyn sat back in his chair. He was experiencing extreme discomfort, a feeling relatively unknown to him. “I did not know her real identity until a Bow Street Runner came to speak with me yesterday. I knew her as Miss Jane Ingleby.”
“Ah, Jane,” Lady Webb said. “It is the name by which her parents called her. Her middle name.”
Foolishly it felt good to hear that. She reallywasJane, as she had told him earlier.
“She was a servant, you must understand,” he said. “She had temporary employment with me.”
Lady Webb shook her head and sighed aloud. “And you do not know where she went,” she said. “Neither do I. Is that why you have come here? Because you are outraged to know that you were duped into giving sanctuary to a fugitive? If I knew where she was, Tresham, I would not tell you. Or the Earl of Durbury.” She spoke the name with disdain.
“You do not believe, then,” he asked, “that she is guilty of any of the charges against her?”
Her nostrils flared, the only sign of emotion. She sat straight but gracefully on her seat, her back not touching it. Her posture was rather reminiscent of Jane’s—a lady’s posture.
“Sara is no murderer,” she said firmly, “and no thief either. I would stake my fortune and my reputation on it. The Earl of Durbury wanted her to marry his son, whom she held in the utmost contempt, sensible girl. I have my own theory on how Sidney Jardine met his end. If you are lending your support to Durbury by coming here in the hope that you will learn more from me than he did a few days ago, then you are wasting your time and mine. I would ask you to leave.”
“Do you believe he is dead?” Jocelyn asked with narrowed eyes.
