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She leafed through the paper not seeing anything of note.

The Incomparable was for sale, Jo noted with interest. Miss Jane Smith was selling her theater. Apparently, the infamous playwright was getting married.

Jo smiled. Women of her profession did find happiness, after all. It was sad that she was selling the theater, though. Had her husband insisted on it?

Jo let out a sigh, then another article caught her gaze.

Her mouth fell open as she read the headline: Miss Beatrice Fowley chooses Lord Archibald Lansdowne over her dashing fiancé Viscount Gage.

Jo’s eyes widened as she read the words over and over again, not quite believing they were true. And then a scathing caricature followed of a young viscount on his knees, holding out his bleeding heart toward a lady who looked upon an old, fat man who held out money toward her.

Jo swallowed, her mind numb with shock. Her emotions swayed from elation to guilt to horror as she tried to decide what she truly felt about this situation.

How had it happened?

And what did I imagine would happen?

She knew that after breaking the betrothal, Beatrice had no other choice. It was either ruin or Lansdowne.

Jo felt sick.

She needed to see Richard. She needed to make sense of this.

* * *

Richard had spent the entire day pacing the length of the study and drinking coffee to the point that his hands shook.

It didn’t help him feel any better. It didn’t help him solve the problem that he’d caused. So once he was done with the useless prowling, he hopped into his carriage and drove to the Gilded Rose theater, where he now sat, still in the carriage, by the side of the road, waiting for Jo to finish her rehearsals.

His cravat was crumpled from tugging on it for too long, his hair was disheveled, and although he couldn’t see his reflection, he was certain his eyes must have been red.

He didn’t want to go inside. He didn’t want to distract Jo, and he didn’t want to draw attention to himself. Besides, he didn’t look presentable at this moment, and he didn’t want people to witness Jo with a nerve-wracked viscount who had been jilted for a lecherous old man.

Ah, yes. The reason for his turmoil.

Ever since he read the morning paper with Miss Fowley’s announcement of the betrothal to Lord Lansdowne, he’d felt sick to his stomach, restless, and, to be blunt with himself, quite guilty.

If he hadn’t promised to marry her, if he hadn’t subsequently asked her to break the betrothal, she would be happily tucked away in her home, gardening and looking out for her siblings.

He could have just helped Mr. Fowley with his business dealings instead of proposing marriage to his daughter.

Of course, he didn’t have any cause to believe he’d fall in love in the meantime… But then one thing bled into another and now there was a problem he could not fix.

But one thing was clear as day.

As of today, he was officially free. Free to pursue Jo.

Yes, the circumstances were not ideal. He needed to save Miss Fowley from the lecherous old man to whom she was now betrothed—and he had no earthly idea of how he would go about doing that. But first, he needed to see Jo.

So he sat inside his carriage, in a quite uncomfortable position, his limbs twisted, his head pressing up against the seat, his feet on the floor. If anyone saw him like this, they would definitely think he had lost his mind from being jilted or was nursing a broken heart. While in fact, he was nursing his guilty conscience.

There was a knock on the side of the carriage, and Richard sprung up and peeked out of the window.

Jo stood there, as beautiful as the moon, and as confused as a newborn fowl.

Richard pushed the door open and helped her inside before the footman had a chance to lower the step for her.

Jo peeked out the window before settling into the seat across from him. She looked him up and down before raising her brow. “You look terrible,” she said without preamble.