Page 71 of Her Rake Fiancé

But there was an even more urgent matter. The matter of Richard’s life.

“Thorne,” Jane said, “it’s not his fault.”

“Stay out of this, Jane,” Thorne warned, his furious, dark gaze on her. “Do not try to protect him. I know what he did. I know everything.”

The word “everything” hung heavy and loaded, and her world shattered. He wouldn’t be this furious just from Richard getting the information. It must be more—he must have learned they’d had relations.

You dishonored her, and you just wrote your own death sentence. Thorne’s words of some days ago rang in her head.

“Jane is much too kind,” said Richard. “It was all me. But I assure you, I do not want to break off the engagement.”

The prince regent tapped at his lip with his index finger, slowly coming closer to Richard, his gaze curious. “Why does this man think you do not plan to marry Miss Grant?”

“It was my idea!” said Jane. “He did want to marry me from the beginning. It was me who did not want to marry him.”

A murmur went around the room.

“You scoundrel,” Thorne growled. “You stood in front of my study, and you looked me in the eye, and you promised. And then you went and did this. I trusted you with my sister. You will pay for your betrayal.”

Jane’s whole world spun around her. Yes, that confirmed it. Thorne knew Richard had ruined her. Thorne couldn’t announce that in front of the ton, but she knew what he referred to.

He had promised Richard he’d kill him if Richard didn’t marry her. Now he wouldn’t believe Richard intended to marry her no matter what Richard said. And maybe the marriage didn’t even matter to him anymore—now it was about honor. Richard had ruined her, and now he must die. A deep terror ran through Jane, and she felt cold, so, so cold. Thorne was going to kill Richard. If she didn’t intervene, he was going to murder the man she loved.

“So it was all a ruse?” asked Calliope behind her. As Jane turned to her, Calliope’s face showed disappointment. “You did not really intend to go through with the wedding?”

“No, Calliope, I’m sorry, but we did not.” Jane swallowed hard as her throat suddenly became parched. “Forgive me, Calliope…”

With her feet so heavy they could be made of lead, she walked to Thorne. Where had the lightness in her chest gone? The excitement bubbling in her stomach? The feeling that she was beautiful and that she belonged and deserved to be here?

The glares of people around her felt like judgment. They stared at her like she was dirt. Just as Madame Dubois had. Just as Lady Jersey had when she’d refused her access to Almack’s.

Who was she trying to fool? She did not belong here in the end. And Thorne, and even she herself, had just proved it.

Jane laid her hand on his arm. “Brother, you came to collect me. Let’s go.”

Thorne nodded to her without taking his gaze off Richard. “Yes, let us go, sister. Lord Richard,” said Thorne, his voice as cold as frost. “I require your presence outside.”

32

Outside in the cool night air, Thorne’s words thundered through Richard’s head, a dark desperation clawing through him. His heart cracked and bled.

As he walked down the grand stairs, the crowd spilled after him, forming a large circle.

Jane, too. His whole family.

Royal guards lay unconscious on the stairs and on the gravel path. Richard noticed they breathed, and a few moaned softly.

“Mr. Blackmore, do you understand you could be charged for this?” growled the prince, standing at the top of the stairs and looking over his guards.

“I do,” said Thorne, who was in the middle of the gravel path, and he turned around to face the prince with a cold, unyielding expression. “Charge me if you will, Your Grace. Nothing will stop me from taking my sister home.”

The prince stared at him in helpless fury.

“However,” said Thorne, his hard eyes unwavering, “if I am charged and unable to run my business, many of my clients would miss the unique services of my establishment.”

The prince’s face smoothed in understanding, and he gave a barely perceptible nod.

Gravel rustled under the feet of the hundreds of ladies and gentlemen who had been present in the ballroom and were now gathered outside in the dark night, illuminated by the fire torches and braziers and gas lamps.