the safety of the lower floor, but she had no idea if Cole was armed.
“It has been a year,” Cole continued. “Then I read of Sir Henry’s death and thought of you, so I returned to London. I wanted to know if you’d had the child. And when I found out about Jane, I wondered if she had your intelligence, your prodigious mathematical abilities. I thought that with you as her mother and me as her father, her genius might already be legendary. So I wrote to her.”
A sick feeling swirled in Lydia’s stomach at the idea that he had lured Jane into a correspondence. “What did you want from her?”
“At first, I thought she might have some novel ideas, different approaches to mathematics,” Cole said.
“You wanted to mine her talents for your own purposes, didn’t you?” Lydia snapped. “You thought she might provide you with some brilliant new theorems or identities. And you would have stolen them, published them as your own in a desperate attempt to regain your lost prominence.”
He frowned. “That’s not quite accurate. She is my daughter, after all, so by rights her theories would have been mine to begin with. Imagine my disappointment when I realized she possesses a rather ordinary mind. Comparatively speaking, of course.”
Lydia clenched her teeth to prevent herself from contradicting his erroneous observation. “So what led to your current plan?”
“The news of your father’s death,” Cole replied. “I knew it would be a good time to contact Jane, and then I learned of your… relationship with a wealthy peer. If I can’t have my reputation back, then a sizable amount of money might well assuage my disappointment. Enough so that I can live somewhere else, perhaps France or Italy, in comfort for the remainder of my days.”
He doesn’t want Jane.
Lydia’s greatest fear, the one that had haunted her for the last decade, eased a little. She didn’t care what he wanted, what he did, as long as he didn’t try to take her daughter away.
“If you get the money, will you go away?” she asked. “For good?”
“Perhaps. Though I will require the acte de naissance to ensure I can control the situation. With that document in my possession, with you knowing I have proof of Jane’s true birth, I will know you cannot renege on your word.”
“You cannot blackmail me forever.”
“Actually, I can.” Cole tilted his head as he studied her. “Why did you agree to marry him, Lydia? For the title and money? You’ve put both in jeopardy, haven’t you?”
Lydia didn’t respond, her throat constricting so hard it was difficult to draw in a breath.
“I will not let you touch Lord Northwood.” She steeled her voice and loosened her hold on Jane in the hopes her daughter would run. “Tell people whatever you want, Dr. Cole. I’ll take full blame. You’ve no idea how things work, how they can be manipulated. Northwood can emerge from scandal intact if I’m the one who is vilified and liable. Then how effective will your blackmail be?”
Her words didn’t appear to disconcert him in the slightest. “Suppose the revelation doesn’t destroy Northwood. What do you think it will do to Jane?”
Lydia flinched. Cole smiled.
“I’m not a fool, Lydia. I know how much you want this kept secret, though I suppose your willingness to sacrifice yourself for your fiancé is admirable.” He leaned forward to peer into Jane’s face, lowering his voice to a gentle cadence. “It’s quite simple, my dear. I will have either that document or you. Which shall it be?”
“You will not have Jane.” A cold, deep voice lashed into the growing darkness. “Ever.”
Alexander.
Lydia’s mind registered his presence, his voice, even as her heart refused to believe it. And yet he emerged from the shadows, an ice-cold rage emanating from him.
“Lord Northwood.” Cole raised an eyebrow, his expression wary but unafraid—as if he knew he was the person in control. “Perhaps you’re the one who will prove sensible. The female mind is prone to emotional decisions, I’ve found.”
Alexander moved closer, pulling Jane away from Lydia. He pushed her behind him to shield her from Cole. Without taking his eyes from the other man, he said, “Lydia, the carriage is at the Langley entrance. Take Jane and go.”
Before Lydia could take one step toward her daughter, Cole moved as swift as a wasp, his hand clamping around Lydia’s arm. Jane shrieked.
A gasp stopped in Lydia’s throat, her body tensing to fight. The cold muzzle of a pistol pressed against her neck. Cole pinned