Chapter 8: A Heart in Conflict

The cold silence between Jane and Jack stretched on for days.

Jane told herself it was for the best. She had made her position clear. Jack had listened. There was no reason for her to feel this terrible ache in her chest every time she caught a glimpse of him passing through the halls. No reason for her stomach to twist when she overheard his laughter at the dinner table, shared with Olivia and his family, as though she had never mattered at all.

This was what she wanted.

Wasn't it?

---

An Unexpected Interruption

Jane had been folding linens in the servants' quarters when a loud voice shattered the quiet.

"Jane!"

Susan stood in the doorway, her face tight with unease.

Jane straightened immediately. "Yes?"

"You are needed in the west sitting room. Mrs. Lawrence has requested tea, and the usual girl is unwell."

Jane's heart pounded. The west sitting room.

Jack would be there.

"Now, girl," Susan pressed. "Don't keep the mistress waiting."

Jane had no choice.

She smoothed her apron, steadied her breath, and gathered the silver tray.

---

A Test of Willpower

The west sitting room was warm, the afternoon sunlight filtering through the curtains in golden slants. The air smelled of jasmine and wealth—refined, controlled.

Margaret Lawrence sat in her usual high-backed chair, her presence commanding the room with little effort. Across from her sat Olivia, dressed in a pale green gown that only enhanced her beauty.

And beside her, lounging carelessly in the corner, was Jack.

Jane kept her eyes low as she approached, setting the tray down carefully on the mahogany table.

Margaret barely acknowledged her. Olivia, however, watched with sharp amusement.

Jack, for his part, had not spoken.

Jane could feel his gaze on her, heavy, but she refused to meet it.

She poured the tea with steady hands, even as Olivia's voice rang out, mocking and sweet.

"Such grace for a maid. No wonder some find her presence... distracting."

Jane's hands froze for only a fraction of a second before she set the porcelain cup down in front of Olivia.

"Careful, Miss Olivia," she murmured. "The tea is hot."

Olivia's smirk faltered for just a moment.

Jack shifted. "That's enough, Olivia."

Olivia gave him a long, knowing look before taking a slow sip of her tea.

Margaret, who had remained silent through this exchange, finally spoke. "You may go."

Jane inclined her head. "Yes, ma'am."

She turned swiftly, ignoring the way her pulse pounded in her throat, ignoring the way Jack's presence filled every corner of the room.

But just as she reached the door—

"Jane."

His voice.

She knew she should not stop. She should keep walking, pretend she had not heard.

But she turned.

Jack had risen to his feet, his expression unreadable. Margaret and Olivia both watched with interest, waiting.

Jane lifted her chin. "Yes, sir?"

Jack hesitated. Then, with slow deliberation, he reached for his cup of tea. "Nothing. Thank you."

Jane's stomach clenched.

She lowered her gaze. "Of course, sir."

And then, without another word, she left.

---

A Confession to Susan

That evening, Jane sat by the small fire in the servants' quarters, hands clasped tightly in her lap.

Susan, who had been watching her in silence for some time, finally sighed.

"You should tell me what's wrong, child."

Jane hesitated.

But she needed to speak.

"I think I've made a mistake," she whispered.

Susan raised an eyebrow. "You mean pushing him away?"

Jane swallowed. "I told him to stay away, but now—now I feel as though I cannot breathe whenever he is near."

Susan shook her head, her expression both fond and exasperated.

"Jane, you are playing with fire."

"I know."

"And yet you don't want to stop, do you?"

Jane bit her lip, staring at the flickering flames. "No."

Susan sighed again. "Then you'd best be prepared for what comes next."

---

A Midnight Encounter

Jane had nearly convinced herself to forget about it. Nearly convinced herself that this strange, painful longing would fade with time.

But then, late that night, as she walked through the dimly lit halls, she found herself stopping near the library.

And there, in the glow of the candlelight, stood Jack.

Alone.

He was leaning against the large window, gazing out over the moonlit estate grounds, a drink in his hand. His expression was unreadable, but something about the way his shoulders were tense, the way his lips were slightly parted, made Jane hesitate.

She should turn back.

She should leave before he saw her.

But she didn't.

Instead, as if drawn by something beyond reason, she stepped forward.

Jack must have heard the soft rustle of her skirts because he turned.

For a long moment, they simply stared at each other.

Then Jack spoke, his voice quiet but firm.

"You regret it, don't you?"

Jane's throat tightened. "Regret what?"

Jack took a step toward her, closing the distance between them.

"Telling me to stay away."

Jane's breath hitched.

He was too close. The air between them was charged, humming with something dangerous.

She should lie. She should turn and walk away.

But she did neither.

"Yes," she whispered.

Jack exhaled slowly, as if he had been holding his breath.

And then, before either of them could stop it, before Jane could think, he reached out—

And gently cupped her face in his hands.

Jane gasped softly, her body going still.

Jack's touch was warm, firm, yet impossibly gentle. His thumb brushed against her cheek, sending a shiver down her spine.

"You drive me mad, Jane," he murmured.

Her heart pounded wildly against her ribs.

"Then perhaps," she whispered, "we are both mad."

For a moment, it seemed as though he might kiss her.

But before their lips could meet, the distant sound of footsteps echoed down the hallway.

Jane pulled away as if burned.

Jack clenched his jaw.

"Go," he said softly.

Jane hesitated—then turned and fled.

Her heart did not stop racing the entire way back to her quarters.

---

A Love That Refuses to Die

As Jane lay in bed that night, her mind spun with confusion and longing.

She had told him to stay away, but her heart refused to obey.

Jack Lawrence was forbidden. He was danger itself.

And yet, he was the only thing her heart desired.

In the dark silence of her room, Jane closed her eyes and allowed herself to dream of him—of what could never be.

Because deep down, she knew...

This was only the beginning.