The heavy, ornate doors of the Crown Prince's private chambers clicked shut, cutting off the distant, fading sounds of the orchestra and the murmur of the departing court. The room was vast and cold, illuminated only by the pale, silver moonlight streaming through the floor-to-ceiling windows.
Lady Jane stood near the center of the room, her hands clasping and unclasping in front of her crimson dress. Her heart was beating a frantic rhythm against her ribs. The evening had been a disaster. She had watched the man she loved—the man she had sacrificed her dignity for—ignore her completely to pursue another woman. And worse, he had been rejected.
Prince Liam stood by the window, his back to her. He was staring out at the palace gardens, his posture rigid. He said nothing. The silence stretched out, thick and suffocating, until Jane couldn't bear it anymore. She had to fix this. She had to smooth his wounded pride before it turned into rage directed at her.
