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Jasper stood in the shadows of his cell, avoiding the bleak rectangle of light bleeding in through a high window in the stone

wall. Every time he felt the warmth on his skin, it reminded him of Althea.

Althea and her smiles. He would go to his grave thinking about them.

Redcliffe had known exactly what he’d do. He’d counted on his nephew driving to his estate to kill him. But Jasper had been

too angry to see his uncle’s ultimate plan to get him out of the way. To teach him one final lesson on which one of them was

superior.

He wished he’d understood before it was too late to protect any of them.

Though, it should offer him some semblance of consolation to know that Summerhayes would shield Althea with his name. And

she would be with a man better suited to her than Jasper ever was.

He also knew from his aunt’s and cousins’ letters that they were safe and living with Baron and Baroness Hartley.

The Barretts agreed to take Roly and Garmr. The boy would finally have the family he’d always wanted. Though, perhaps not

the one he’d imagined.

Jasper rubbed at an ache in the center of his chest, reminding himself that David and Nan were good people. They would take care of him and, in a year or two, Roly might even become a big brother when they have a child of their own...

A child. He wondered if—

He stopped himself from finishing the thought. She would marry Summerhayes and that was that.

A hard banging sounded on the rough wood of his cell door, followed by the jangle of keys. Then the guard announced, “You’ve

got a visitor.”

Even though Jasper had requested no visitors for the past month, the gaoler had been making a pretty penny on those who wanted

to take a gander at society’s buffoon. It didn’t matter that he’d kept his back turned to them.

The typical insults he heard were in the vein of “Calls himself a highwayman. Doubt he even knows which end of the horse is

what” as they snickered.

Then there were others who weren’t quite so cordial. And others still who felt sorry for the dimwitted fool and brought him

food. He didn’t mind those visits as much. Prison rations didn’t quell the hunger pangs.

“See ’ere! Face front! I said ye’ve got a visitor,” the guard shouted as if Jasper were hard of hearing before addressing

the unwelcome guest. “Don’t think he knows what a door is, sir. Spends all day staring at the wall. Doesn’t talk neither.”

“Leave us,” a man said with authority, his familiar tone causing Jasper to turn.

That was when he saw the Duke of Sherborne, his aristocratic features austere beneath a distinguished cap of silvered hair.

Jasper bent his head. “Your Grace.”

“I only have one question for you, St. James,” the older man said in his infamously no-nonsense manner. “Are you guilty of

the crime of which you are accused?”

Jasper met his gaze and made no excuses for his actions. “I am. I have been a highwayman these past two years.”

Sherborne nodded, his expression inscrutable. Then he turned to walk away.

“If I may ask a question, Your Grace?” Jasper said, staying him for one moment more.

“Very well.”

Remembering all that Redcliffe had said, he swallowed. How did one ask a duke if he’d had an affair with one’s mother? Lacking

many social graces, he decided to be direct. “Did you know my mother?”

“I did,” Sherborne answered. “Lady St. James was a fine woman and a great source of comfort to my sister when she was ill.

I am very sorry that neither of them are with us today.”

A breath left Jasper. He’d known all along that Redcliffe was despicable. He would say and do anything to wound someone. But

it was still a relief to hear the truth.

“Thank you,” he said.

Perhaps it was those two words that made the duke linger a moment longer. He paused on the threshold, his gaze quizzical.

“St. James, are you aware that the Earl of Redcliffe is looking for other men to testify against you? That he wants to ensure

you hang?”

“I would expect nothing less.”

Though, in truth, Jasper had expected his uncle to hire an assassin to steal into the prison and slit his throat while he

slept. But, apparently, he preferred the idea of his nephew’s body swinging from a rope for all to see.

Sherborne turned away.

“But if I may ask a favor of you, Your Grace,” Jasper said quickly. The duke didn’t respond, but waited. “Do you have any

daughters?”

He slid him a curious look. “I do.”

“The favor that I would ask is to keep them far away from Redcliffe. Please.”

***

Thea didn’t know that she was running toward Swanscott Manor until she found herself staring at the winged swan doorknocker.

Perhaps she came because Lady Broadbent was such a stickler for composure and that was just the prodding she needed in order

to put herself back together.

After she dragged her sleeve across her cheeks, she knocked.

The stoic butler was good enough not to look surprised by the sight of her, all red-nosed and perspiring, her hair in disarray,

and her words coming out in hiccups as she asked to see her ladyship.

After being shown into the parlor, Thea couldn’t bear to look at the cheerful surroundings, the walls papered in bright flowers.

So she stood at the window instead.

“What a lovely surprise,” Lady Broadbent said, the steady clip of her cane muffled as she stepped onto the Aubusson rug. “I’ve

already rung for tea. Why, my dear, your hair appears quite disheveled. Did you walk all the way from Hartley Hall?”

Thea nodded jerkily, unsure if she could speak without opening the floodgates she was barely holding back.

“Then you must have some important news. Come, my dear, and sit with me while we await our libations,” the countess said in

a genial manner.

Anyone who didn’t know her well might think her tone perfectly normal and not at all tinged with concern. But Thea knew her

better than most and she dared not turn around to see that same concern in her gaze.

“No?” she continued. “Well then, perhaps you wouldn’t mind if I’d hazard a guess or two. Hmm. Let me see. Could it be concerning a certain captain of our acquaintance? I have it under good authority that Summerhayes has written to you. And more than once.”

It was true. Thea had corresponded with Captain Summerhayes. Or rather, he corresponded with her. Their letters were not evenly matched. She had only sent him two responses to his eight.

“He has been most kind,” she said to the window.

“Ah. I see. Poor Summerhayes,” the countess tutted. “Though, I suspected as much when I saw you with St. James. The way your

eyes lit up reminded me of the way your parents still look at each other. Even so, I held on to the hope that I was wrong.

And that you would not have such a rough road ahead of you.”

Those words, spoken with sympathetic gloom, reminded Thea of the night Jasper kidnapped her. “Insurmountable obstacles.”

“Quite. And he’ll never be accepted in society, even if the trial ends in his favor. That blackguard Redcliffe will make certain

of it.” Her cane thwapped sharply in disgruntlement against the floor. “I heard the earl wears an eyepatch now, and has been

behaving erratically, shouting at his steward in the street. He has lost some favor among the members of the ton . So, perhaps...”

Lady Broadbent let the thought dangle in the air as if there was still hope.

Thea sniffed and smoothed a hand down her midriff. “St. James has washed his hands of me. He wants me to marry Summerhayes.”

“Men.” The countess issued a growl of exasperation.

“Why don’t they listen? No other creature is so determined to do things the hardest way possible.

” She tapped her fan thoughtfully. “My husband was like you. Pomeroy could get lost in the bathtub. He frequently became turned around on our walks. I simply had to march off in the right direction and hope he would follow. That’s the way it is with men, my dear.

Sometimes when they cannot see a solution, we have to lead them to it. ”

The old Thea likely would have become inspired by this speech and moved by the unflagging support of the countess. Yet, in

that moment, she felt shattered instead. Because she had tried to lead him and he’d refused to follow.

Even if the trial went in his favor, he wasn’t ever going to ask for her. Because he didn’t love her.

As the realization hit her full force, it seemed as if her body would split in half. Skin and tissue, bones and beating heart

all ripped apart. The ache was too much to bear.

A cry broke out of her, her knees buckling. As her vision wavered, she staggered, hand outstretched toward the settee. Then

she collapsed, doubled over as a raw, choking sob clogged her throat.

She couldn’t breathe. Grief was drowning her, the tears building and building. But nothing would come out.

“Oh, my sweet Althea. It is a burden to hold the pieces of a broken heart together for so long.”