Of course, without the conversation that Jane had overheard, Captain Livingston’s behaviour would seem the model of propriety. She sighed and forced herself to continue, hoping that it would not damage her father’s good opinion of her. “I would that I could share your happiness even in that measure. There are two things you must know, and it grieves me to relate them. The first is that Captain Livingston has said that his aunt would not approve of their attachment. The second is that I know him to be engaged to another woman.”

Mr. Ellsworth’s breath came very quick. He looked over her disheveled state once more. “How do you come to have this knowledge?”

“I—I followed Melody last night. I know I ought not have eavesdropped, but I saw her slip out of the house and realized that she must have scheduled a rendezvous with her beau. I had thought to follow in case anything untoward occurred.”

“Did it not occur to you to awaken me? That I might have been more aptly suited to this task?”

Jane faltered, faced with an inner understanding that her actions had been based on spite and not sisterly regard. She hung her head. “I was angry at her, Papa. I should have woken you, but she had pried into my own affairs—”

“Ah ha! So I was right that there is a gentleman in your heart.” He waved his hand to brush that issue away. “We will not distract ourselves with that. Tell me about your statement that Captain Livingston is already engaged? This brooks a certain amount of disbelief, I must admit, as his behaviour has always been the model of propriety.”

“I cannot tell you any details, as the knowledge was given to me in confidence.” Jane would not betray Beth’s faith in her, at least not to her father, though the very real possibility existed that she would have to tell Mr. Dunkirk, based on her promise to him. “I ask that you accept my word that it is true.”

Rubbing his mouth, Mr. Ellsworth leaned back in his chair and stared at the ceiling. After a moment, he glanced sharply at her. “This, then, is what I propose. I will follow your mother and sister and engage them to return home.”

“They will not want to return.”

“True.” He grunted and resumed his study of the ceiling. “The most expedient course is to tell your mother that you are ill; she will fret and return home at once. I will not offer Melody the choice of continuing on with the FitzCameron party, though you and I both know she will request it.”

The relief that Jane had hoped would come of telling her father had not arrived. Instead, a sickness turned in her stomach, knowing that Melody’s faith in her would be forever broken. It made her feel an even more conscious betrayer of her sister’s trust than when she had followed her into the night, but despite her anger at Melody, she could not tolerate the thought of letting her sister ruin herself.