Page 74 of Stolen By the Heartless Duke

Several days later, Jane accompanied her mother to the Ascot grounds. The grounds shimmered under a pale June sky, all bright banners, polished carriages, and the restless hum of aristocratic anticipation.

Jane stood with her mother beneath the shade of a striped awning, the fabric fluttering softly in the warm breeze. Somewhere beyond the railings, horses thundered past in a blur of color and speed, the crowd erupting into scattered cheers.

Her mother adjusted her gloves with careful precision, though her fingers betrayed a faint tremor.

“I still don’t understand why we had to come,” she murmured. “After everything.”

Jane’s gaze stayed on the track. “Because if we don’t, it’s as good as admitting defeat.”

“That is a very bleak way of putting it.”

“It’s the truth.”

Her mother sighed, but there was no real argument left in her. The past few weeks had taken too much from both of them to waste energy on debate.

Still, Jane softened her voice when she added, “And Lavinia insisted. You know what she’s like when she decides something is ‘good for morale.’”

That earned the faintest ghost of a smile from her mother.

Across the field, society glittered in motion. Ladies wore extravagant hats like blooming flowers; gentlemen clustered in confident groups, their laughter rising and falling like waves.

Everything looked unchanged. That was the most unsettling part. The world had not stopped for Colin. It had merely adjusted around his absence.

Jane kept her posture composed, though her thoughts never stopped circling the same dark center.

Colin was still missing.

Zachary was still waiting.

And somewhere, the Duke of Sunderford was still looking.

His name surfaced easily in her mind now, unbidden, like a habit she hadn’t chosen but couldn’t break.

“Lady Jane!”

Lavinia appeared like a burst of sunlight, skirts swishing as she approached with effortless familiarity. Her eyes flicked briefly to Jane’s mother before she smiled warmly.

“You look as though you’ve been standing guard at a prison gate,” Lavinia said lightly.

“I feel like it,” Jane replied.

Lavinia looped her arm through Jane’s with practiced ease. “Come. You need air, not martyrdom.”

Before Jane could object, she was guided a few steps away from her mother into a quieter stretch of the grounds where the noise softened, and the crowd thinned.

Only then did Lavinia’s tone shift slightly. “Any news?”

“No, unfortunately.”

Lavinia’s grip tightened in understanding. “Then we’ll keep moving forward.”

Jane let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. “I am trying.”

“I know you are,” Lavinia said more gently. Then, with a sidelong glance, she added, “You’ve been braver than most of the men here combined.”

Jane almost smiled at that.

They returned toward the main cluster of guests, where conversations flowed easily, and eyes flicked curiously in Jane’s direction before politely looking away. She had become a topicnow, one spoken about just loudly enough to be overheard, but never directly addressed.