He rubbed the back of his neck and paced to the windows. “I went to the cellar to get a bottle of wine for us. While I was there, someone clubbed me over the back of the head and the next thing I knew, I woke up with a hell of a lump on my skull and no way to get out. I nearly tore off my arm trying to break down that door.”

Jane sat down hard, her skirts whooshing around her. She rubbed a fingertip between her eyes. “Wine cellar? You weren’t in the wine cellar.”

“Yes, I was. God knows I wish I wasn’t.”

She crossed her arms tightly over her middle. “No. You were in your room. I saw you.”

“What?”

“You were there. I saw you.”

“You said you didn’t come.”

Tears stung the backs of her eyes. “I lied. I came. Only I was nearly half an hour late. But by the time I arrived you were…” She studied her slippers where they rested on the carpet, Verges snuggled up next to her foot.

“I was what?”

Jane closed her eyes briefly. “You were making love to Mrs. Langford.”

“What!” Garrett’s face went ashen pale. “Mrs. Langford was there? In my room that night?”

“Yes. I saw you, the two of you.”

Garrett knelt in front of her. He grabbed her hand. “Think hard, Jane, think. What exactly did you see? I wasn’t there that night. I swear it. Someone locked me in the wine cellar.”

Jane searched her memory. What exactly had she seen? “I saw … I saw Mrs. Langford standing near your bed and you … or someone … kissing her. I only saw the back of his head. He looked like you, tall, dark-haired, and he was in your room.”

Garrett’s face was grim. He cursed under his breath. “Isabella’s footman is tall and has dark hair. He’s not unlike me physically.”

“But how did she know? How would she have known we planned to—”

“I don’t know. But I bloody well intend to find out.”

Jane cupped her hand over her mouth. She was going to be sick. “You’re betrothed to her.”

“We haven’t announced our betrothal yet, but this changes everything. Besides, you must know, I never would have offered for her if it wasn’t for—”

“What? What does she have over you, Garrett? Lucy seems to think she’s forcing you somehow.”

“No. Not that. I wouldn’t allow that. She … showed me a letter. But it doesn’t matter. I must speak to Isabella. If she did what we think she did, it is beyond the pale.”

“What letter?”

Garrett took a deep breath. “In Spain. Harold Langford. You asked me once if I was there when he died. I was. In fact…” Garrett hung his head. “He died for me.”

Jane grabbed his hand and squeezed it. “Tell me. What happened?”