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She’d been a governess for a very long time. She knew how to play that role, but she’d cast it aside for a little taste of adventure, life, and love. She’d unlearn all of those things, pushing them to the furthest corners of her mind. With time she’d go back to being just Jane Ephram—quiet, unimposing, unimportant.

Nicholas squeezed her hands as though trying to will his love into her. “Do you love me?”

The word she needed to say—one menacing yet simple syllable—choked her. Still she managed to get it out. “No.”

Nicholas sat back on his heels with a deflated sigh. “Why not?”

“I’m sorry, Nicholas. I can’t love you as you want me to.” It wasn’t a lie. She couldn’t love him, for all of the reasons he refused to see.

If she hid it from him, everything would go back to normal. Nicholas would disappear and become nothing more than a dream that kept her up at night. He’d be a memory that haunted the quiet moments in the day when her mind wasn’t occupied. For the rest of her life, he’d be a reminder of what happened when a governess dared to love above her station.

“Right,” he said quietly before straightening. When she gazed up at him, his face was stone. “Lady Margaret, you took a black stallion of mine. Once that horse is returned, I’ll be on my way.”

Lady Margaret looked between the two of them, pursed her lips, and then nodded. “I apologize for the theft. The horse is in the stables. You’ll find him in good form.”

“I appreciate you caring for him.” He tipped his hat to Lady Margaret, not even bothering to glance down at Jane. “Good day.”

Nicholas’s footsteps rang out against the floorboards as he walked away from her. When the door opened and shut, Jane sank to the floor and buried her hands in her face. But the tears wouldn’t come, her body refusing to understand why Nicholas was gone.

There was a rustle of fabric, and Jane felt two hands on her slumped shoulders. “Miss Ephram, I’m sorry.”

She looked up to find Lady Margaret crouched on the ground next to her, crushing the fine wool of her traveling dress.

“You love him very much, don’t you?” asked the young lady.

“I do,” she whispered.

“Go after him, then. Tell him you were wrong.”

“I’m not wrong. I have my reasons.”

“Whatever they are—”

“They’re mine,” she said firmly even as she choked on the words.

But this would not do. She’d made her choice, so she stood and smoothed out her plain skirts with as much dignity as she could muster. “Now we should be going. If we’re lucky, perhaps we can arrange a carriage to drive us to the station.”

Lady Margaret frowned. “The station?”

“We’re going back to London. You may weave the story you tell your father however you choose. I’ll agree with whatever you say.”

“Why?” Lady Margaret asked.

“Because you’re right. I’m no longer fit to be your governess and couldn’t chaperone you even if we were to press on to the estate.”

“Miss Ephram, I didn’t mean those things,” Lady Margaret said with genuine remorse. “You know I’m horrid sometimes.”

None of that mattered. Jane couldn’t stay in the employ of Lord and Lady Rawson. Not knowing what her charge had done and her own misadventures. The earl and countess might be able to forgive their daughter’s attempted elopement one day, but Jane would be out on the streets faster than she could blink for failing as a chaperone. It was safer to leave before any rumors had a chance to get back to London or Lady Margaret slipped up one day and revealed Jane’s secret in a fit of temper.

“I’ll deliver you home, and then I’ll inform her ladyship about my decision.”

“But someone could spot us on the train,” said Lady Margaret.

“It’s better than risking anything else happening on this trip. We’ll take a private berth and not leave it for the duration of the journey. I suggest you concoct some reason we didn’t reach Yorkshire but your carriage did. No matter what you come up with, you’d do your best to hide the truth. If your parents don’t suspect anything, you stand a chance at being able to make your own choice of husband as long as they don’t object to him the way they did Mr. Lawrence.”

Lady Margaret looked down, suitably chastened—not that it really mattered after everything that had happened. “I am sorry, Miss Ephram.”

“Yes, well,” Jane said, “the damage is already done. There’s no going back.”