Hours later, Arabella entered her aunts’ room with an impatient step. “I need to speak with you.”

Jane looked up from her knitting, noting the tense expression on Arabella’s face. Emma must have noticed, too, for she gave a nervous start. “Whatever is wrong?”

Arabella pulled up a stool and sat on it. The pose struck Jane as being both mature and youthfully forlorn. She noted, too, the faint circles under her niece’s eyes and wondered for the tiniest instant if perhaps she’d been wrong to throw the duke and Arabella together.

Arabella clasped her arms around her knees. “This is rather awkward. I need to talk to you about Lu—” She flushed. “About the duke.”

“The duke?” Emma beamed. “He mended my pen for me this afternoon! Such a gentleman.”

“He can be amiable when he wishes, but—”

“He is perfectly delightful! Why, I knew the moment Jane and I laid eyes on him that he was—”

“He is not the man you think,” Arabella said sharply. With an abrupt move, she stood and began to pace.

Jane stopped knitting. “How so?”

Arabella paced faster, her face strained. “There was a time, long ago before either of you came to stay, that I met…someone. I was young and foolish. Father tried to warn me.” She stopped and gripped her hands together, the knuckles showing white. “You know how stubborn I can be. I—I didn’t heed him.”

The corner of her mouth curved down and, to Jane’s horror, a tear quivered on her niece’s eyelash. Arabella never cried. Worse yet was the realization glimmering in Jane’s brain. “Do you mean to say the duke is the same man who—”

Arabella nodded miserably and sank back onto her stool. “His father came hunting every year. I so looked forward to his arrival; it was the one thing that made life here bearable after Mother died. Then, one year…he arrived and we just knew.” She gave a bitter laugh. “Or, at least, I knew. I thought he felt the same.”

“Where was James when all this was happening?”

“Father was involved in a horse venture at the time, and he wasn’t at Rosemont for weeks on end.”

“James was a fool.” Jane looked down at the tangled yarn in her lap. “I suppose you were indiscreet.”

Another tear slipped down Arabella’s cheek. “I thought he loved me.”

Emma reached out to grasp her niece’s hand. “Dear! Don’t say another word. We know all about it. Your father wrote us some time after…after your friend returned to London.”

Jane nodded, her own throat tight. “He didn’t name the man, of course, or we’d never have placed the duke in your path.”

The dark head drooped, a dusky curl following the line of her cheek. “I should have known you’d heard something; Father told everyone.”

Emma patted Arabella’s hand. “How uncomfortable for you, dear. Though I have to wonder…are you sure it was the same duke? I mean, there are other dukes, and—”

“Of course I’m sure it was him! He was twenty at the time, but except for being more…” She flushed, then continued doggedly, “Except for being older, he is exactly the same.”

Jane sighed. It certainly sounded damning. And if it was true, it ruined everything.

Or did it? All of the signs had pointed to the fact that Arabella and the duke belonged together. Why, Jane’s bad luck was already beginning to turn for the better. And then there was the way the duke looked at Arabella, his green gaze intent, as if fascinated beyond his control. Jane pursed her lips. “Perhaps he is sorry.”

Emma nodded, her face brightening. “I daresay he is very sorry! It is wretched knowing one did something as a youth that one should not have. Why, I remember once when I stole a kiss from old Mr. Frothington and I—”

Jane started. “Our tutor?”

Emma nodded, a beatific expression on her plump face.

“But he was married!”

“Yes, well, as I said, one does things that one might not be proud of.”

Some women, perhaps, but not Arabella. Not unless…Jane raised her brows. The child must have been incredibly in love to have so heedlessly thrown propriety to the winds. In fact, now that she thought about it, there was reason to believe that Arabella’s feelings were still engaged. It would explain why she hadn’t shown the slightest interest in any of the eligible young men Jane had planted in her way over the past four years.

Arabella gently untangled her hand from Emma’s and stood. “I just felt I should tell you so you would cease your efforts to throw Lucien and me together. It is untenable.”

Jane saw the hurt in the dark eyes and it made her own heart ache.

As if realizing she was revealing too much, Arabella straightened her shoulders and turned toward the door. “I need to see Cook about dinner.” She stopped by the door and smiled weakly. “Thank you both.”

The door closed behind her.

“I suppose this changes things,” Emma said dolefully. “I feel sorry for the poor duke; he seems so smitten.”

“And how could he not be? Arabella is the most beautiful, the sweetest—”

“The most capable,” added Emma helpfully. She reached down to untangle her embroidery where it had fallen to the floor and twisted about her boot heel. “Do you think he did it on purpose? Just rode in, took advantage of her, and left?”

“I daresay. I understand he was quite a rake at one time.”

“But what rakehell would stay so quietly in the country? He seems content here.”

“Exactly,” Jane said. “I think the duke has changed and Arabella has not yet realized it.”

“I don’t think she wants to realize it.” Emma’s round shoulders slumped. “Oh, sister, I wonder if she can ever forgive him.”

Jane and Emma sat silently, one plucking absently at a loose thread, the other chewing on her lip. Finally Emma sighed, reached into her pocket, and withdrew her bottle. She took a thoughtful swig. “Perhaps she still cares for him.”

Jane nodded. “My thoughts exactly.”

“Despite his past, I cannot see how a wealthy, titled suitor could make her anything but happy. Especially one who is so well hu—”

“Developed,” finished Jane hastily. Before Emma could offer more insight, Jane reached across to take the bottle. Pinching her nose, she took a quick swallow. Cognac burned its way down her chest. She coughed, handed the bottle back to Emma, then took out a lace handkerchief and delicately wiped the corners of her mouth. The fiery liquid infused her with energy. “This calls for action.”

“What can we do? She won’t have him. Perhaps Mr. Francot could be convinced to renew his suit.”

“I’d rather have a rakehell for a nephew-in-law than that mawkish worm.”

“Heavens, Jane! Mr. Francot has always been very kind.”

“He isn’t right for Arabella. But the duke…that is another matter altogether.” Mr. Francot didn’t have the ability to shake Arabella’s confidence. Nor could he make her flush with a mere indolent smile, yet Jane had witnessed the duke doing all of these things. There was a bond between her niece and their visitor, and she was not about to ignore such a promising opportunity. Of course, it would take a good deal of address to smooth over this little bump. But Jane had faith in the duke’s ability to win her stubborn niece. A man with a face like that, and such a fine figure—all he needed to do was make an effort. But he would have to use all the weapons at his disposal—every last one.

Perhaps she should have word with their duke. Yes, that was what she would do. And once she explained what his responsibilities were, she was sure he would know exactly how to go about winning his way through Arabella’s defenses. After all, there were two hearts at stake in this game, and Jane was determined that neither would go to waste.

Satisfied, she picked up her abandoned knitting and began untangling the knots.