Chapter Twenty
“What letters?” Hugh asked, before Jane could possibly deny it.
Aaron dropped the thank you note back down to the coffee table in front of Jane. There was no point in her arguing against it. He knew he had seen that handwriting somewhere before and here was the proof of it.
“What else has she done?” Hugh asked, his tone growing wary indeed.
“Emily has been receiving horrid letters telling her to end our courtship, threatening her too. Her reticule was cut up, torn into shreds, and sent back to her. Even a gown of hers was ripped, made by the modiste in Bond Street and delivered to her like it.”
“Bond Street?” Hugh jerked backward on the settee before turning his eyes on Jane. “Jane, I took you to Bond Street for your dress fitting earlier in the week. I dropped you at the door.”
She looked between the two of them, her eyes frantic.
“Surely you do not believe me capable of doing such a thing as that?” She laughed off the idea before Aaron snatched the card up again.
“Why do you bother denying it? This is the same handwriting, Jane. You cannot escape this now. Why on earth would you do something so cruel?” Aaron snapped the words as he waved the note card in her direction. Her smile vanished, replaced with such a harsh look, the kind he had never seen in her face before. “Admit it.” He demanded; his voice so sharp that she flinched on the settee.
“She isn’t right for you.”
“What?” he snapped at her. “You do not even know her.”
“It’s not the way it is supposed to go.”
“Jane,” Hugh spoke up, leaning toward her. “You are making no sense.”
“I thought the letters would scare her off,” Jane said, gesturing down at the quill beside her. “It wasn’t difficult. A few letters, and I could not believe my luck when I saw that box in the modiste shop with her name across the front. I just wanted her gone, out of our lives.”
“Why?” Hugh asked wildly. “She had done nothing to you.”
“She was taking Aaron away,” she gestured madly in Aaron’s direction.
“Why would you care when you were marrying me?” Hugh asked, motioning to his chest.
“If he was married, what fun would there be left?” Jane asked with a shrug. The truth settled on Aaron’s shoulders, realizing just how right Lord Bolton had been with his guesses the night before.
It is all for her amusement, playing with our hearts.
Aaron turned away, rubbing his hands across his face as he gathered his thoughts.
“That’s what we are to you, aren’t we?” he asked, unable to look back at her. “Pawns for your own amusement. Do you really take so much fun in setting Hugh and I against each other?”
He looked back to her at last, noting the way her face was impassive.
“That is not how I would describe it, but…” Her words made Hugh slowly stand to his feet, walking toward Aaron’s side. It was a symbolic moment, with Hugh moving away from her and coming to stand beside Aaron. “Where are you going?” Jane asked, addressing Hugh alone.
“Away from you.”
“Why? We are to be married, aren’t we?”
“You expect me to marry you now?” Hugh asked in amazement, looking back to her with a shaking head. “After it is plain to see that you have lied to the both of us for years on end, telling each of us you cared for us, all for what? Just for you to take some twisted pleasure in seeing us become enemies.”
“She must have been that bored with her own life to do something like that.” Aaron leaned back on the nearest windowsill, finding it was the furthest point at which he could distance himself with Jane. Hugh perched beside him, similarly, wanting the same distance.
“Tell me this, Jane,” Hugh paused, lifting his gaze to meet hers. “Did you ever really care for either of us?”
“What?” She stood to her feet, so fast that she knocked the coffee table in front of her and nearly sent all the thank you cards flying. “Of course, I care for you. Both of you. You are practically my family.”
“Jane, I was to be your family.” Hugh’s words were sobering as Jane rounded the coffee table, hurrying toward the two of them.
