"You volunteered?" Hugh asked in disgust.

Ethan shrugged, unconcerned. "Well, go on. Doona let me stop you from overtaking their little coterie once more so you can see her from the front."

Hugh scowled, but Ethan was well aware of his desire for Jane—there was no use denying it. "Have no' seen her in years," he bit out defensively as he strode down the side lane with Ethan following. "Curious about her."

"It's like a carriage wreck I can see coming from a mile away," Ethan muttered. "First Court with his lass and now you with Jane—again. Thankfully, I remain immune."

Hugh ignored his comment, settling into another dark spot farther up the street. "Why is Weyland so certain he'll target Jane?"

"Grey wants revenge," Ethan said simply. "He'll destroy what's most precious to the old man."

Just then, Jane laughed at something one of her cousins said, and Hugh returned his gaze to her. She had always been quick to laugh—a quality that was foreign to him, but one that had beguiled him. She'd told him once, while cupping his face with her delicate hand and gazing up at him solemnly, that she promised to laugh enough for both of them, if need be.

"So now Grey plans to kill Jane," Ethan murmured over his shoulder, "seeks to slit her throat like he's done with other women. Only now it seems he's got a real taste for it. Likes to make it last."

"Enough," Hugh grated, still staring at Jane's soft smile. The idea that Grey needed to be taken out permanently had never sat well with Hugh, even as he understood it might be the only course. No longer would he be reluctant.

"I wager that right about now, you wish my offer to kill Grey had been accepted," Ethan said, easily reading him. "But no' to worry, little brother, it certainly has now. Weyland will do anything to protect her."