Under his gaze, which seemed to see through every layer to her soul, Jane’s heartbeat thundered through her and grew louder, until it merged with the sound of her family’s carriage. As her father rode across the grass towards them, Mr. Vincent released her. Jane wanted nothing more than to sink back into his embrace, but he helped her to rise, then stood at a proper distance from her. He became the model of propriety when she least wanted it.

Mr. Ellsworth swung down from his horse. “Jane!”

In the distance, Mrs. Ellsworth cried aloud, declaiming the horror of the scene, though she could not properly know what had happened. Melody caught sight of Captain Livingston as his prone body was lifted into Lady FitzCameron’s carriage. Screaming in terror, she ran toward him.

Mr. Vincent grimaced. “I believe Miss Melody needs your attention, sir.”

In unison, Jane and her father ran across the field to restrain Melody. Jane looked back once. Mr. Vincent stood where she had left him, his gaze still fastened on her.

She fondly wished to turn back, but Melody needed all her attention. Incoherent with grief and rage, her sister flung herself at the Viscountess’s carriage. “Henry!”

Mr. Ellsworth, running ahead of Jane, caught Melody by the waist and turned her about. She screamed, “He’s dead! My love is dead!”

Jane led them toward their carriage as Melody craned her neck, trying to see behind her. “Calm yourself, Melody. He is not dead. It is only a blow to the head.”

Not heeding her sister, Melody continued trying to get out of Mr. Ellsworth’s arms, but he held fast. Together, he and Jane managed to get her back into their carriage.

Jane’s mother, to Jane’s great surprize, calmed herself and set about tending Melody.

She patted Melody’s wrists and temples with rosewater, her movements surer and more capable than Jane could remember. Mrs. Ellsworth only spared Jane a glance. “Tell your father to take us home.”

Jane did not need a second urging.

For the ride back to Long Parkmead, Melody filled the carriage with her upset, declaring her wrongs to all who listened. Jane spoke only once, when Melody said, “This is your fault!”

Jane did not turn her gaze from the countryside that passed them by, but said simply, “I know.”

Met by this acceptance, rather than the confrontation she sought, Melody subsided into silence for a moment, until her mother demanded her attention again.

Despite Mr. Vincent absolving her of blame, Jane could not shake the sensation that she should have done something differently. Though she loathed Mr. Buffington, she had no wish to see him dead, nor could she forgive herself for the very real upset felt by Melody and Beth and Miss FitzCameron. Even Lady FitzCameron was touched by this torrid affair, as her favourite nephew’s treachery was revealed.

Too late to change her course now, Jane’s mind nonetheless filled itself with what-ifs and played the events over and again with different choices.