Page 40 of Stolen By the Heartless Duke

The duke didn’t disagree. Instead, he said, “Then we widen the search.”

Jane straightened. “Other gaming hells?

“No.”

Her frustration flared immediately. “Then what are we doing?”

“I will send men,” the duke said. “We do not go from house to house. It draws attention.”

Jane snapped, “So we wait?”

“No,” he said sharply. “We gather intelligence properly. Two people moving through every establishment in London is not subtle. It is reckless.”

“And sending others is safer?”

“It is necessary.”

“If there is no other choice…” Jane murmured, biting her lip.

If she could run across all the gaming hells, brothels, and other unsavory establishments to find her brother in one night, she would. But it would be impossible for a woman alone. It would be impossible still for two people without putting themselves in danger.

She sighed. “Very well. I understand. But the moment you find anything important?—”

“We made an agreement, Lady Jane, and I intend to keep my word,” he interrupted.

For some reason, that eased Jane’s racing heart far more than the assurances of the Bow Street Runners.

The ballroom shimmered beneath hundreds of candles. Crystal chandeliers scattered warm light across polished marble floors while musicians on the raised gallery played a lively dance.

Ladies drifted through the room in gowns of silk and gauze, their jewels catching the candlelight each time they laughed or turned.

Jane rested one gloved hand lightly upon her mother’s arm as the footman announced them. Conversation faltered, but only for a heartbeat.

Then the whispers started.

Jane kept her chin high. She had promised herself she would. The whispers stung no less for expecting them. Beside her, her mother drew a slightly unsteady breath.

“They are staring,” she said.

Jane squeezed her arm. “Let them.”

“But…”

“If we hide ourselves away, my uncle wins.”

Her mother looked toward the crowded ballroom with uncertain eyes. She managed a faint smile. “I think you have enough courage for the both of us.”

Jane wished that were true. If she were truly brave, her heart would not be pounding quite so violently. Her gaze swept across the ballroom. Every conversation seemed to pause just long enough for someone to glance toward her.

She forced herself not to shrink beneath it. Instead, she looked elsewhere and froze.

Across the ballroom stood her uncle Zachary.

Her uncle wore an expression of perfect satisfaction as he conversed with several gentlemen. He noticed her almost immediately. Their eyes met. Then, as though she mattered no more than another piece of furniture, he returned to his conversation.

Before Jane could comment to her mother, her thoughts were interrupted with, “There you are!”

Lavinia hurried toward them in a gown of soft sage green, her curls decorated with tiny blossoms.