Page 56

She clenched her jaw to prevent herself from groaning aloud. It would be mortifying. She was the silly young woman he had rejected, and worse, he was entirely aware of her feelings. Their last encounter in the hall had confirmed it, when she had greeted him with a beaming smile before recalling his abrupt decision and watching the joy drain from her own face like ink spilled in water.

No, a walk would be far too humiliating.

“Did your father agree to that?” she asked, striving to keep her tone neutral.

Tatiana hesitated, twisting the hem of her skirt between her fingers. “I have not asked him yet, but I am sure I could convince him.”

Jane’s stomach twisted. She did not wish to disappoint the child, but neither could she bear Barclay’s polite indifference—not today. Not when her heart was still tender, and her mind felt scattered from her restless sleep.

“I am sorry, Tatiana,” she replied gently, forcing her voice to remain steady. “I cannot. I already made plans for the day.”

It was not true, but she would find something to occupy her time, even if it meant wandering the gardens alone with her thoughts.

Tatiana’s little face fell, her lower lip quivering slightly. “Please, Jane. I … miss you. It felt like when Mama was alive and we would do things as a family. I want …”

Jane’s heart clenched painfully, but she forced herself to remain firm. “I am sorry. I cannot. I already promised my time to Mr. Dunsford, and I must hurry if I am to meet him.”

The child’s eyes shimmered, and Jane had to look away lest she be swayed by those imploring blue eyes.

“What about Ladin? Could you read to me this evening?”

Jane closed her eyes, willing herself not to break. The memory of reading Aladdin to the girl and seeing her enchanted expression was enough to bring fresh tears to her eyes. But if she agreed to read to her this evening, Barclay might be present as he had been the first time, and Jane could not endure his cool civility—not when her emotions were still so raw. She needed time to recover from the coffee ordeal and this heartbreak before she could manage any pleasantries with Tatiana’s father.

“Perhaps in a couple of days. There is no telling if this headache will recede by this evening.”

Maybe by then her battered spirits would have time to mend. Perhaps she could muster the strength to sit in the same room with him without her heart shattering all over again.

Tatiana’s expression fell, her shoulders sagging in resignation. “I am sorry you do not feel well,” she murmured.

Jane managed a small smile. The child was so sweet and earnest, her belief unshaken despite the barriers that seemed insurmountable. It truly would have been an idyllic life—to spend her days with Tatiana, sharing books and adventures, while traveling at Barclay’s side as he designed magnificent buildings across England. Jane quickly squashed the errant musing, forcing herself to remember that it was not to be. She needed to focus on her health, particularly conquering this ordeal with the cursed coffee.

“Thank you,” she replied gently, her voice thick with emotion.

To her surprise, Tatiana stepped forward and threw her little arms around Jane’s neck, hugging her tightly. Jane instinctively wrapped her arms around the child, drawing comfort from the unexpected embrace.

“Please do not give up,” Tatiana whispered fiercely against Jane’s hair, her small voice trembling with conviction.

Jane pulled back slightly, her brows drawn in confusion. “Give up?”

“On Papa. Promise me you will not give up. We can be a family, I know it! I will make him see, I swear it.”

Jane’s mouth opened to respond, to offer some gentle, reasonable explanation of why such a dream was impossible—but before she could form the words, Tatiana released her and darted from the room, her skirts fluttering behind her like the wings of a determined little bird.

* * *

Barclay strode down the family hall, his boots tapping against the polished wood as he made his way to meet the earl for a spot of fishing. He was just passing Jane’s door when it opened unexpectedly, and Tatiana stepped out, shutting it quietly behind her.

Drawing to a halt, Barclay rubbed his temples, a nagging sense of unease settling in his mind. Why did this not sit right? He realized with a pang that he needed to gently dissuade the connection between his daughter and the young woman before Tatiana’s hopes grew even more entrenched. The thought of it left a sour taste in his mouth, but it was necessary. He could not allow her to build dreams upon a foundation that would never come to be.

Dropping his hand, he straightened up, his expression hardening as he fixed his gaze on his daughter. But Tatiana, unyielding and unafraid, narrowed her eyes and glared right back.

“Tatiana, are you bothering Miss Davis?”

Tatiana’s little chin lifted with defiance. “Miss Davis? I thought you called her by her given name?”

Barclay’s jaw clenched. “That was before.”

“Before what?”