Tall, Dark... Collection. Carole Mortimer

      Her eyes glittered challengingly. ‘I would rather be thought a fool than live any longer under the protection of the Duke of Stourbridge!’

      Hawk flinched as if Jane had physically struck him. Was that really how she felt? Did Jane despise him—hate him so much after what had occurred between them yesterday evening that she was willing to suffer imprisonment rather than accept his help?

      The defiant expression on her face, the scorn directed towards him that she made no effort to hide, was answer enough…

      He drew in a ragged breath before speaking again. ‘Jane, I advise you to put aside your feelings of enmity towards me and instead concentrate on the matter at hand.’ His expression was grim. ‘I can intercede for you with Sir Barnaby. I have found him to be a kind and reasonable man, and I am sure—’

      ‘No!’ Jane cut forcefully across the Duke’s reasoning speech. ‘I will speak to Sir Barnaby myself, when I return to Markham Park.’

      ‘You mean to go back there?’ The Duke looked incredulous.

      Yes, Jane intended going back to Markham Park.

      She had thought to find answers to her past in Somerset, but now it seemed that Sir Barnaby might be the person who had those answers. That he might be her real father…

      Whether he was or he was not, Jane knew she needed to return to Markham Park in order to clear her name as a thief. To expose Lady Sulby for the liar that she was.

      For Jane became more and more convinced by the second that Lady Sulby’s jewels were not missing at all—that Lady Sulby herself had hidden the jewels away somewhere, and merely taken advantage of Jane’s flight in order to blacken her name even further.

      She refocused on the Duke, her lips curving into a humourless smile at the disbelief in his expression. ‘Yes, of course I mean to go back there.’

      ‘Jane, you cannot—’

      ‘I must go,’ she assured him firmly, implacably.

      And, whether she planned to return to Markham Park or not, Jane knew that she could not remain under the Duke’s roof for a moment longer. He could not be further from the truth when he said Jane had feelings of enmity towards him. How could she possibly have feelings of ill-will towards the man she loved with all her heart?

      The man who minutes ago had broken that heart when he refused to believe in her innocence…

      Hawk looked down at Jane searchingly, knowing by the stubborn expression on her face that he would not be able to change her mind either by argument or cajolery. ‘If you insist on this foolhardy course of action—’

      ‘I do!’

      ‘Then I will come with you.’

      ‘No, you will not!’she refused with a vehement shake of her head. ‘I am grateful for the help you have given me thus far, but whatever happens next I must deal with myself. Do you not understand, Hawk, that I do not want you to come anywhere with me?’ she continued impatiently, as he would have once again protested. ‘As you have mentioned on more than one occasion—’ a slight, self-derisive smile curved her lips now ‘—you were forced into the role of my protector by my own impetuous actions. It is an obligation I now release you from.’

      He gave a weary shake of his head. ‘Have I not just explained that it is not as simple as that, Jane?’

      ‘I assure you, Your Grace, our conversation has made several things clear to me,’ she said enigmatically.

      Hawk grimaced his impatience at her stubborn refusal to listen to him. ‘Perhaps you are right, Jane, and we should talk of this again later. When you have had more time to think the matter through?’

      ‘Perhaps,’ she responded unhelpfully, giving a slight inclination of her head before turning to leave.

      Hawk’s expression was one of brooding frustration as he watched her cross the study to the door, her movements elegantly graceful, her head angled proudly.

      But how long would Jane maintain that elegance and grace, let alone her pride, if Lady Sulby had her way and Jane was imprisoned for theft…?

       Chapter Thirteen

      ‘Jane…?’

      Jane did her best to ignore the curricle—and its driver—as it drew alongside her, and walked determinedly along the lane that would take her to the road to London.

      ‘Is it you beneath that bonnet, Jane?’ The query was repeated impatiently.

      She turned her face to the curricle, her smile rueful as she looked into the frowningly handsome face of Justin Long, Earl of Whitney, where he sat atop his curricle in complete control of a pair of lively-looking greys. ‘It is indeed I, sir,’ she confirmed dryly as she continued to walk.

      ‘What the deuce are you doing wandering around the countryside unchaperoned?’he demanded disapprovingly.

      Jane raised mocking brows. ‘Our conversation yesterday evening led me to believe that you are the last person to be concerned with the proprieties, sir.’

      He looked irritated by the jibe. ‘Some of those proprieties are unavoidable, Jane. The unsuitability of a single young lady roaming the countryside unchaperoned is one of them,’ he added with a frown. ‘You—Jane, will you stop marching along in that military style and tell me what the devil you think you are doing?’

      ‘Partaking of the air?’ she returned tauntingly as she continued to ‘march’.

      Blond brows met over censorious blue eyes. ‘I do not believe my question was an invitation to facetiousness, Jane.’

      No, Jane was sure that it was not. It was only that if she didn’t answer him in this offhand manner she knew that she would in all probability burst into the tears that had been threatening since she had packed her small bag and departed from Mulberry Hall an hour ago.

      And she didn’t want to cry—was sure that once she started she would not be able to stop.

      ‘Jane, have I not instructed you to cease this infernal marching?’ the Earl reminded her sternly.

      Jane came to an abrupt halt in the lane and turned to glare up at him, an angry flush to her cheeks. ‘I no more take orders from you, sir, than I do the Duke of Stourbridge!’

      ‘Ah.’

      Jane bristled at his knowing expression. ‘And exactly what is meant by that, My Lord?’ she demanded resentfully.

      His expression was mockingly derisive. ‘Argued with the young Duke, have you?’

      ‘And what business is it of yours if I have?’ Jane eyed him challengingly.

      The Earl gave a rueful smile. ‘Only that I would dearly have liked to witness that unusual occurrence!’

      ‘Because you are still annoyed at his conquest of your Countess?’

      The Earl gave an appreciative shout of laughter. ‘Please tell me that you and the Duke did not argue over dear Margaret?’

      ‘We did not,’ Jane snapped, deeply irritated by his amusement at their expense. ‘Now, if you will excuse me, My Lord, I must be on my way—What are you doing?’ She frowned as he secured his reins before leaping agilely down from the curricle to stand at her side, looking as rakishly handsome as ever, in a tailored blue jacket that matched the colour of his eyes, breeches so tight in fit it was obvious that he owed none of his physique to padding, and a pair of highly polished Hessians.

      ‘My dear Jane,’ the Earl drawled, ‘you do not seriously think that even the Earl of Whitney, having been made aware of your lonely state here on a public byway, would simply continue his journey back to London as if nothing untoward had happened?’

      That was exactly what Jane had been hoping. Although the