Page 75 of Stolen By the Heartless Duke

“The Wynten girl…”

“…such a shame about her brother…”

“…and that broken engagement…”

Jane kept her chin lifted as if none of it could touch her. She had learned that silence was often mistaken for weakness. She would not give them that satisfaction. She knew she should be used to it by now, but she absolutely wasn’t.

A group of younger lords stood near the betting sheets, laughing too loudly at something one of them had said. One of them, tall, blond, and confident in the way only men untouched by consequence could be, looked toward Jane with mild curiosity.

Lavinia nudged her slightly. “Go on.”

“I don’t think?—”

“You do think,” Lavinia cut in. “That’s the problem. Go and speak to them.”

Jane exhaled slowly, then crossed the distance.

The conversation started politely enough. Introductions, idle remarks about the weather, and a brief discussion about the races. One of the gentlemen, Lord Harrow, asked her opinion on a horse she hadn’t seen running yet. Jane answered carefully, and for a moment, it almost felt normal.

Then, another younger man with an air of arrogance let his gaze flick over her too slowly. “I suppose,” he said lightly, “one must admire your perseverance, Lady Jane. Not many would continue attending public events after… well…”

The pause was deliberate. He wanted her to fill it.

Jane felt the shift immediately, and she attempted to dislodge the lump that had risen in her throat. “After what, my lord?”

“Oh, nothing,” he said with a shrug that didn’t match his expression. “Just your current, unfortunate circumstances. I can’t decide whether it is brave or foolish of you and your family to be in the public eye in light of such scandal.”

The wordsunfortunateandscandallanded like stones. Something in Jane’s expression must have changed, because Lavinia, still standing close by, stiffened.

“I believe,” Jane said, trying to keep her tone measured despite her humiliation, “that to continue with this would be most unwise, as you may say something you ought not to, my lord. Something about which you know very little… except for untruths gleaned from overheard gossip.”

The man gave a faint laugh and raised his hands in mock surrender. “No need for such theatrics, my lady. I meant no offense.”

“You rarely do,” a new voice cut in.

The group turned. Hector Lockwood stood just behind them as though he had materialized from thin air. The duke seemed to have quite the knack for appearing at Jane’s side whenever the need arose.

She let go of a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding.How does he know exactly where to be and when?

She felt relief flooding through her entire chest, as if the air itself had suddenly changed temperature.

As usual, the duke was dressed impeccably for the occasion—dark coat, composed posture—and his expression carved into something controlled and dangerously calm. His gaze did not linger on anyone except the man who had spoken.

But it was enough. The laughter around the group died almost immediately.

“I believe,” Hector continued, “you have made a foolish error of judgment. Were you or were you not attempting to express your ill-informed views about Lady Jane and her family?”

The man shifted slightly. “Your Grace, I didn’t mean?—”

“I’m not interested in what youmeant,” Hector said quietly. “I’m interested in why you, or anyone else for that matter, deems this sort of behavior acceptable.”

Jane watched him. Much like the evening of the musicale, when he had come to her rescue, there was no raised voice, no overt threat. And yet the man in front of the duke looked as though he had just been struck across the face.

The lord swallowed. “I was merely jesting, Your Grace.”

“Do you think this lady finds your idea of ‘jesting’ amusing? Do you think it is the business of anyone outside the family to dictate how they should behave?”

The man hesitated, glanced briefly at his companions, then stared at his feet like a small child caught out in a lie. The duke didn’t give him a chance to respond.