fanned around her shoulders. Her mouth compressed, her green eyes hardening. “I hate you, Lydia. I hate you.”
“No.” Terror seized Lydia’s chest. Her hands started to tremble, and she dropped the box onto a table. “Please, let me explain.”
“You lied to me! All this time, you’ve lied!”
“I know, but—”
“Why?” Jane pushed a stack of papers off the desk and grabbed the one that had been locked in the copper box for so many years. “You kept this hidden from me when I had every right to know the truth!”
“No one knew the truth, Jane. No one except Papa and Grandmama.” Tears stung Lydia’s eyes as she reached for the girl, but Jane evaded her grasp and went to the door.
“Why not me, then?” she snapped.
“You would have been taken away from us,” Lydia said. She swiped at her eyes, hating the way Jane looked at her with such animosity. And yet she couldn’t blame her father or grandmother either, for they had only done what they thought was best. They had done all they could to ensure Jane would stay with them. “We couldn’t tell you, didn’t want you to—”
“You could have,” Jane retorted. “You didn’t want to because you knew I’d make things horrible for you. Lord Northwood would never marry you if he knew! But if you kept it a secret from me, you’d have everything you wanted and I’d be left with nothing.”
Lydia’s heart constricted. “Oh, Jane. You’d never have nothing—you know that. I didn’t keep this from Northwood because I wanted him to marry me. I didn’t tell him because no one could know.”
“Why? Why did you have to keep it such a secret?”
“It… it was too dangerous.” Lydia stared at Jane. Flashes of memory appeared—a sculptured face with eyes as cold as glass, the glimpse of a slender, blond man from across the street, the eerie feeling of being watched.
The terror returned, scratching like claws up Lydia’s throat. “Jane, if anything—”
“Dangerous for you, you mean,” Jane retorted. “I know why you haven’t told anyone, Lydia, and it’s got nothing to do with me. It’s because your life would be ruined if anyone knew the truth!”
She spun and stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind her. Lydia choked out a cry, her tears flooding over in waves as she sank into a chair and buried her face in her hands.
In that instant, Lydia knew she had to choose between Alexander and Jane. And in the end, there could be no choice at all.
Dear C,
If Lydia was a student of yours, why have you started a correspondence with me and not her?
I confess I have found a document that has caused me no end of questions—all of which lack answers.
I have not asked Lydia for answers. I would first like to speak with you. So I would like to propose a meeting as soon as possible. I am planning a visit to St. Martin’s Hall on Tuesday.
I do not intend to ask Lydia anything. If one has concealed the truth, then one is not owed the truth. Don’t you agree?
Sincerely,
Jane
Chapter Twenty-Five
The sine of two theta equals two times the sine of theta… The thought dissolved like salt in boiling water.
Lydia grasped the driver’s hand as she descended the carriage to the bustling street. As she walked toward the lecture hall, she attempted to focus on the identity again, but her effort was halfhearted at best. Her mind was too knotted to think about sines or cosines or polynomials or square roots.
“I received your letter.”
Lydia spun at the sound of the low, male voice. Alexander stood a short distance away, his expression grave, his eyes simmering with suppressed anger.
Lydia swallowed hard and clutched her satchel tighter. She knew she’d been a coward by sending him a letter, but having to tell him in person—
“I’m sorry,” she said.
“The banns were posted last week,” Alexander snapped. “I will not withstand another broken engagement.”
“You don’t want to marry me, Alexander,” Lydia said, her throat nearly closing over the words. “Believe me when I say a broken engagement is a far better course for you than marriage to me.”
He stepped forward to grip her arm, his dark eyes flashing. “Why?” he hissed, lowering his head closer to her. “Why have you refused to see me for the past three days? What the bloody hell is going on? If you don’t—”
“You all right, miss?” Two men paused in passing, glancing from Lydia to Alexander.
With a muttered curse, Alexander relaxed his grasp