For a moment their father seemed to consider that logic, then he shrugged. “Go then, daughter. Go read in your bed by candlelight. Your eyesight will not be my problem once Harcourt takes your hand. Go on.”

Thomasina cast a quick smile to Juliana and one to her father. Then she nodded toward Lady Harcourt. “My deepest apologies, my lady,” she said softly. “I hope I will be in a better humor tomorrow.”

Lady Harcourt arched a brow. “As long as you do not humiliate us on Saturday as your sister did, I really do not care.”

That elicited a small gasp from Juliana and even Mr. Shelley jerked his head up at the rude comment. But somehow Thomasina managed to blink back tears at the set down and exited the room. Once she was out of anyone’s view, she rushed up the stairs like the very hounds of hell were on her heels and scurried into her chamber. She slammed the door behind her, turning to lean her forehead on the cool surface as she tried to calm her suddenly racing heart.

She stretched her fingers against the wood to bring feeling back into them and then looked up at the bell pull. She needed to ring it, to bring her maid Ruby to help her get ready for bed.

“I don’t want to see anyone,” she whispered.

“Even me?”

She started at the deep voice that came from the shadows behind her and pivoted to find Jasper standing at her dressing room door, watching her.

She moved a few steps toward him before she stopped herself. He didn’t want her to throw herself into his arms. Even though that was just what she wanted to do right now.

“My lord,” she gasped, lifting her hands to her chest so she wouldn’t do something as foolish as reach for him. “You are here.”

“I am here,” he repeated softly, and entered her room in one long step, closing the dressing room door behind himself and shutting them into what now felt like a very small chamber. He looked around. “Had I known your sister was going to act a fool, I would have given you the biggest chamber of the three connected ones.”

Thomasina found herself smiling a fraction despite her continued shock that he was in her bedchamber. And he was looking at her bed, then her, with an expression she couldn’t read. It didn’t seem angry or accusatory, though. If anything, he looked…he looked lost. He looked sad.

Her heart ached for him.

“How was your excursion?” she asked.

To her surprise, that sadness in his gaze deepened before he jerked it away and hardened himself to her inquiry, locking her out from what she’d seen. But she couldn’t unsee it. Jasper Kincaid, Earl of Harcourt, had something lurking beneath the surface, something broken that called to her. That made her want to smooth the line of his frown away. That made her want to help him.