He’d recognised him. Sir Denzil Pikeford, a local landowner, who’d been well into his cups when Alex spoke to him earlier and now stumbled away through the trees, hands cupping his bloody nose. Pikeford would suffer the consequences for this, but he could wait.
He held the woman’s head to his chest as he stroked down her back, soothing her, registering the bare skin, the ripped clothing. Her shuddering sobs gradually subsided. Her breathing hitched. Slowed. Hitched again.
‘There now. You’re safe.’
Alex looked down. And realised for the first time she was a lady…one of his father’s guests then, not a maid, or an unwary farm girl caught off guard.
‘Alex?’
A quiet, halting enquiry. She looked up, face blotchy with tears, one cheek stark red, eyes puffy, ringed by spiky wet eyelashes. Recognition thumped Alex square in the chest. He recalled the slap and another surge of fury rolled through him. How could anyone single out a girl as kind and inoffensive as Jane?
She pulled away from him with a gasp, frantic hands scrabbling to gather the tattered remnants of her gown to cover her exposed breasts. Then her eyes rounded with horror as voices called out. The sound of feet trampling the undergrowth came closer. Swiftly, Alex reached for his jacket—fallen nearby—and slung it around Jane before, still on his knees, twisting his torso to face her parents.
‘By God, sir! What is this?’
Lord Stowford, Jane’s father, was mottled with rage. Alex stood to face him, but before he could speak Jane’s stepmother reached her husband’s side.
‘Oh! You wicked, deceitful girl! You are ruined!’ She turned to her husband. ‘Stowford! Do something!’
‘Beauchamp! You shall answer—’
‘Papa! No! Alex saved me. It was Sir D-Denzil.’ Jane scrambled to her feet.
‘I knew it!’ Lady Stowford pressed one hand to her bosom and plied her fan vigorously with the other. ‘As soon as I saw you sneaking off with him!’
Alex frowned, glancing down at Jane. Surely she knew better than to be so careless? But…he took in Lady Stowford’s expression. The smug smile in her eyes. If she’d seen Jane and Pikeford, why not follow them straight away, and intervene?
Jane swayed and Alex moved closer, cupped her elbow, supporting her. Shivers racked her body and tears rolled down her face. Alex stared in disgust at Jane’s stepmother. Cold-hearted witch! What kind of a female…a mother…was she? Where was her concern for another female in distress, let alone one she had raised from a baby? But, then…she had always resented Jane.
‘I didn’t.’ Jane was shaking her head in frantic denial. ‘I s-s-swear it, Papa! I had the headache and hoped a walk by the water would help. He followed me. He grabbed me.’
‘It matters not! You are ruined!’ Lady Stowford’s words rang with triumph. ‘Stowford! Go and find Sir Denzil at once. He must make an honest woman of Jane. Then all will be well.’ She eyed Jane with pitiless disdain. ‘I will not allow your disgrace to taint your sisters.’
‘Noooo!’ Jane sagged against Alex as she uttered a low moan of despair.
‘Have you no compassion?’ Alex glared at Lady Stowford. A memory surfaced…of Her Ladyship trying hard to promote a match between Pikeford and Jane during last Season. And Jane’s disgust at the idea. ‘That foul drunkard attacked your daughter! He was forcing himself on her and you would have her marry him?’
Her haughty gaze raked Alex. ‘I would, as would any responsible parent. At least she will have a husband at long last! She should be grateful.’ She turned to her husband, his expression that of a man wishing he was a thousand miles away. ‘Well, Stowford? Do not just stand there. Go and find Sir Denzil. You must see Jane has to be wed now she is no longer pure.’
‘No! He didn’t… I am still… Alex stopped him in time, Papa! Please, Papa!’
‘Stowford! You must think of our other daughters. Their reputations are what is important now. Jane must be wed.’
‘Then I shall marry her.’ Alex released Jane’s elbow and wrapped his arm around her waist, hauling her into his side.
‘Alex?’
His heart plummeted at that voice. Behind the Stowfords three figures came into view: Alex’s father in the lead of his uncles, Vernon and Zach. Father’s eyes swept the group. Returned to linger on Jane, then levelled a searching look at Alex.
‘What happened? Pikeford? We saw him stagger out of the copse just now.’
Grateful for his father’s swift understanding, Alex nodded. He held that silver-grey gaze, his gut churning with the same mix of hopeless love and unwanted revulsion he always felt towards this man he so desperately longed to love unconditionally. Father walked forward, ranging himself alongside Alex and Jane.
‘This matter can be contained, Stowford. No one will know but us. There is no need to force Jane to marry anyone.’
The swell of relief was brief. One look at Lady Stowford’s expression—even as she was agreeing with his father—was enough to stir Alex’s doubts. That old witch wouldn’t rest until she had her wish—Jane married off, no matter the circumstances.
Jane was still trembling, like an injured bird…fragile…terrified.
‘No,’ he heard himself say. He slid his arm from around Jane’s waist and grasped her shoulders, manoeuvring her so he could look straight into her swollen eyes. ‘Lady Jane Colebrooke…will you do me the honour of being my wife?’
Jane’s head pounded. She shouldn’t accept him. She knew she shouldn’t—this was just like Alex. Impulsive. Doing things he would later regret. He’d been like it all through their childhood. But Jane had no energy. No strength. No courage. The fear Stepmama would, somehow, force her to marry Pikeford was all-consuming.
She had dwindled until she was a mere husk and, like a husk, she allowed herself to be carried on the wind. ‘Yes.’
All she wanted was for all of this—and all of them—to go away. The Duke, she could see, was uneasy. But Stepmama—oh, she was delighted! Not only was her nuisance of a stepdaughter finally off her hands, but the family would now be irrevocably connected to that of the Duke of Cheriton, one of the most powerful and influential men in the land.
Jane’s conscience made a valiant late attempt at fairness and she clutched Alex’s hand.
‘Alex! No… I should not have… I am not thinking straight… You need not…’
Her breathless protest died away as he held her gaze with those gorgeous golden-brown eyes of his. Alex grinned that old reckless care-for-nothing grin that had stolen Jane’s young heart years before. He pulled her close and put his lips to her ear.
‘C’mon, Janey. It’ll be all right. It’ll be fun.’
The same words with which he had led her into devilment during their youth—he to prove he wouldn’t be confined by rules; she, willing to do anything to escape Stepmama and to please her childhood hero. There had always been consequences, of course, but now—here was her chance to escape Stepmama for good. Never again would she have to bite her tongue as she endured one of Stepmama’s diatribes about how plain and useless she was.
‘Thank you.’
She caught the Duke’s frown from the corner of her eye and quailed inside. But it seemed Alex had noticed, too, because his arm snaked around her waist again and he faced his father, chin jutting, head high, bringing to mind the defiant boy, full of bravado.
‘Father?’