Author's Note: Thank you to all the reviewers! Your feedback keeps me going. And to those of you wishing for the romance to happen already, I sympathize! I'm roughly following the arc of the show but I promise not to leave all the good stuff for the final chapter. One of the big challenges in an AU is translating a romance based on years of friendship and trust into a shorter timeline, but we'll get there!

Chapter 14: Jane Has an Unrestful Night

As Jane expected, their walk back to the house took three times as long as their walk out. By the time they emerged from the bookshop at the far end, Jane happily anticipating the prompt delivery of several maps and various books about the region, seemingly the entire town had gotten themselves dressed up and were enjoying an early promenade.

Jane made sure to smile winningly at the starchy matrons and young ladies alike, stopping to pull coins from behind the ears of giggling girls while Teresa complimented the boys on their neat appearances or cherished toys smuggled in the pockets of their best suits. For someone uncomfortable in the public eye, she was naturally charming when she interacted with children. She would be a remarkable mother. He stomped down hard on the thought that only his own scruples were in the way of that happening.

Would it be possible to go about his life knowing he'd given his child a bright future and loving home, even if he wasn't part of it? The child would be better off without a con man in his life, after all. His own father was proof of that, if he needed any besides his own failure to protect Charlotte.

He needed to focus. The first order of business was removing Red John. He now had the tools he needed to begin planning; this was no time to get distracted thinking how beautiful she was when she smiled or how easily she could win people over with the tiniest bit of prompting. He was on a quest for vengeance, not grooming her to be the most beloved monarch in Europe.

Of course, coaching her was part of the princely role he was playing, so it wasn't completely unnecessary.

The sun had set by the time they made it back to the house, and they had a quiet dinner, just the two of them. After the main course, Teresa asked, "Did you get anything useful from our walk? Other than the maps, of course."

"I noticed Lorelei didn't make an appearance."

"She'll see us tomorrow night. Maybe that's enough?"

"No. She's under orders; I imagine Red John frowns on improvisation. Is your friend Kim Fischer in town?"

"I don't know. I could send someone to her house to find out."

"Do. It would be useful to have her perspective." Jane wiped his mouth with his napkin. "Thank you for a very pleasant evening, my dear."

"You don't want dessert?"

"I'm full enough. I'll be upstairs if you need me."

She bit her lip. "But you'll come to bed? The servants will notice if you don't."

"Don't worry." He smiled reassuringly as he got up.

mmm

Fortified with candles, a pot of tea Teresa sent up, and plenty of research material, Jane lost himself in his work. He had no sense of what time it was when a creaking stair drew his attention to the light flickering in the stairwell, but his neck and back ached from being hunched over the desk.

The silhouette of a woman carrying a candle, her long hair loose around her shoulders, made him catch his breath, irresistibly reminded of the times Angela had come to coax him away from his plots after checking on Charlotte. But this wasn't his wife; he had no family anymore, he reminded himself.

"What are you doing up?" he asked as Teresa came to stand beside the desk.

"I could ask you the same thing," she said quietly, peering at the map. "You need to be downstairs by sunup. And I assume you won't want to leave all this lying out in the open."

"No. I figured I could hide things up here easily enough." He was impressed by her anticipation of his needs, even though he bet from the tension in her shoulders that a nightmare was the real cause of her wakefulness.

"You're looking at the Napa Castle lands? Why? Trying to figure out where he held Frederick if it wasn't the dungeon?"

"I suspect it really was the dungeon at first, to break him. But Red John had to move him when he let Bosco loose to unmask me. He'd have wanted him somewhere secluded, but within reasonably easy reach. Like maybe a hunting lodge."

"Which is here?" She pointed to a symbol on the map.

"I believe so. Or rather, the mapmaker did."

Teresa frowned in thought. "What does it matter where he was?"

"Because that tells us who may have seen him."

"Oh. You're looking for someone you can get information from, maybe even turn against John," she guessed.

"Yes. I wish we'd thought of detaining Partridge," he sighed, running a hand through his hair.

Teresa gave an amused little huff. "You'd have more luck with a woman. If I were you, I'd try Lorelei."

"I intend to," Jane replied, noting the little grimace she gave at the news. "But not in public. I won't embarrass you if I can avoid it."

"Thank you. So you'll come downstairs?"

"What time is it?" A yawn took him by surprise.

"Just after three. The maids and cook will be awake by five."

"All right." He needed at least some sleep, he knew. "Where would you hide something up here?"

Teresa smiled. "When we were kids, we always hid things in chests or drawers. But I made a better spot when the boys got older and nosier." She went over to the corner by the window and knelt, tugging at one of the floorboards. Jane smiled as she lifted it to reveal a space between the attic floor and the ceiling of the nursery below, big enough to hold his maps and notes.

"What did you keep in here?" he asked, peering into the empty space.

"Secrets." Her smile was aiming for sly, but her dimples made it cute instead.

A diary, maybe, he thought. Or trinkets from an admirer, like Greg from the candy shop. The image of a princess collecting a treasure of candy wrappers at once amused and pained him.

The secrets he was hiding here were much, much darker.

Teresa helped him hide the maps and notes, leaving the books on the desk to make his presence in the attic seem harmless, a prince looking for a place to read undisturbed. Then he blew out his candles, leaving the room dark except for the light from Teresa's single candle and the nearly full moon.

Jane stepped to the window to admire the way the silvery light glimmered on the lake. What a romantic place this could be. A few repairs, some redecorating, and a happy couple were all it needed. The setting was beautiful; from his vantage point he couldn't even see the town, just the mountains and lake.

"It's easy to forget the world here," Teresa said softly, setting her candle on the floor a few feet away so it wouldn't interfere with their view and standing beside him.

He was startled to hear her voice his thought. That was her real allure, he realized, the way their minds seemed to work in sync. That was dangerous. He had no trouble controlling his physical desires after a lifetime of using his own looks to manipulate women, sometimes quite beautiful ones. It was the sharp, strong women who posed the real threat, beguiling his mind.

He'd loved Angela faithfully not because of her beauty, but because she understood him and was loyal to him. He never had to keep his guard up with her.

He must never let his guard down with Teresa. Her guilelessness was the most dangerous kind of snare, tempting him to honesty himself. The future she imagined for them grew more attractive each minute he spent with her, leading him to fantasize he could become a virtuous man. But he knew himself too well to fall for his own con.

"I used to think that's what freedom looked like," Teresa said softly, touching a fingertip to the cool pane. "The wide open lake disappearing around a bend. I used to dream about getting in a boat and seeing where it went." She sighed. "Then I grew up and realized that freedom isn't a place. It's just a dream. At least for me."

"It's a state of mind," Jane said. "I've met people with everything they could ever want who are prisoners of their own ideas, their own thoughts."

"Are you free?" she asked. "Is that why you won't stay?"

Jane thought about the question. "Sometimes freedom just means having nothing left to lose."

Her voice was so quiet he barely heard her. "I've lost so much. It hasn't made me free."

"Because you're trying to honor the memory of those you've lost. Just like I am. Now." He was ashamed he hadn't tried to bring his family's killer to justice years ago, but he wouldn't let anything—or anyone—stop him now.

He would keep focused, no matter what. And that meant getting some sleep.

Before he could turn away, Teresa drew a deep breath and whispered, "I wouldn't try to take her place. Your wife, I mean. I wouldn't expect you to love me."

Jane stared at her in astonishment. "No, Teresa," he said hoarsely. Clearing his throat, he said more firmly, "You should expect your husband to love you. Don't marry someone who won't. You deserve to be loved. You deserve to be happy."

She shrugged. "We don't get what we deserve in this life. And I probably won't get to choose my next husband any more than I chose Frederick."

"Yes, you will. You're the queen. Once you're out from under Red John's shadow, you can take charge."

"Right." She didn't sound convinced, but she squared her shoulders. "Let's get some sleep."

Jane glanced out at the view one last time—and froze. Ducking, he pulled her away from the window, laying a finger over her lips to silence her. "Someone is out there," he whispered.

Her eyes widened. Satisfied that she wouldn't give them away, Jane quickly snuck a peek out the window. He hadn't imagined it; there was another flash of a lantern, quickly covered, from the lone figure on the dock. Gradually Jane made out the shape of a small rowboat approaching with two people inside.

The person on the dock was either a very short man or a dumpy woman, Jane thought. The cloak disguised identity but not height and build.

"Where's your gun?" He whispered even though logically he knew they couldn't be overheard.

"In my bedside table."

"Get it. And wake Cho."

"What are you going to do?"

"See where they go. I'll be down in a minute. Go." He gave her a gentle push.

As she picked up the candle and hurried down the stairs, he watched the two arrivals climb onto the dock. Their co-conspirator was definitely a woman, or at least was wearing a skirt, he saw as she moved to greet them. The group huddled for a moment, then moved toward the terrace. Jane lost sight of them as they went around the corner of the house, and he left the window, feeling his way down the stairs.

Teresa had lit a lamp near the nursery, giving him light to make his way down to the second floor. He found Teresa in the hallway outside her room, huddled with Grace, Cho, and Rigsby, all in various states of dress. She looked relieved to see him. "Where are they?"

"It looks like they're headed for the back door," he replied.

Cho said, "Rigsby, you and I will take that. Grace, watch the cellar door just in case."

"Be careful," Teresa called as they moved off. Jane could see how it pained her to stay behind.

"What about the front door?" he asked when they were gone.

"Too obvious," Teresa replied. "They'd have to get past the night doorman."

"What if he's in on it?"

She bit her lip. "I suppose that might be possible. I've known Hicks since I was little, though."

"Let's just go check. You're armed, right?"

She nodded, drawing the pistol partway out of her robe's pocket. Then she led the way down the hall, pausing when she reached the stairs that led down to the entry foyer. As she peeked around the corner, Jane joined her.

Beside the large double doors stood a long table with a flickering oil lamp and a large vase holding a spray of flowers. On the other side was a row of chairs, and the nearest one was occupied by an older dark skinned man in royal livery. His head was tilted back as if he were asleep, but with dawning horror Jane realized his eyes were open. A thin spray of blood glistened on his white collar in the lamplight, indicating his throat had been cut.

Teresa drew a sharp breath that was almost a sob, then took a hasty step back as the door began to open, blowing out her candle. She bumped into Jane, and he took her shoulders to steady her as they listened to three sets of footsteps on the floor tiles.

"Good work," a man whispered.

Was it Partridge? It would make sense, Jane thought. He had a tenuous but plausible excuse to be here if he got caught.

"Stupid do-gooder got what he deserved," Rebecca whispered back. The satisfaction in her voice made Jane's skin crawl.

Teresa started forward, but Jane stopped her, whispering into her ear, "Let them get closer. We want to cut off their escape and catch them in the act."

She nodded, then turned and took his hand to lead him quickly down the hall. Her bedroom door was open, and they hurried inside. Jane turned to the bed to arrange pillows under the covers as Teresa closed the door slowly and silently, then took up a position beside it, gun held at the ready.

Jane pulled the curtains open enough for them to be able to see without lighting a lamp, then caught the flash of moonlight on metal. This had been the king's room, he realized as he drew the sword from its leather scabbard mounted on the wall and hid behind the wardrobe.

The waiting was always the worst, Jane thought as he focused on breathing quietly and evenly. He was glad to note Teresa's breaths were regular, betraying no terror. Not a woman in a thousand could wait calmly for her own assassin, he thought, especially after finding a member of her household brutally murdered as part of the plot.

At last, there was a quiet scratch at the door, and then it opened a crack for a few seconds before being pushed wide enough to admit Rebecca, identifiable by her rustling skirts. They were being cautious, Jane thought, not wanting to tip their hands until they'd succeeded.

They would not, though. And he would have three people loyal to Red John in his power, full of useful information he could pry out of their weak little minds.

Rebecca went to the bed, and her two companions entered the room quickly. They were no sooner inside than Teresa slammed the door shut, shouting, "Freeze, or I'll shoot!"

Rebecca let out a shriek, dropping her lantern, which lit up the room in flashes as it rolled. Jane stepped out, sword at the ready, but before he could act, one of the men lunged for Teresa. She fired, but apparently missed, and he pointed his own pistol at her head.

Everyone froze.

"Do it, Dumar!" Rebecca hissed. Jane's grip on his sword tightened.

Teresa held her gun steady. "This is a revolver. I won't miss a second time."

Partridge started edging toward the door, so Jane stepped in front of him, holding his blade to the valet's throat.

Teresa said sternly, "Help is on the way. Surrender, and I promise you'll get a fair trial."

Dumar and Rebecca chuckled. Dumar said, "Put the gun down and I'll kill you quick and easy instead of slow and nasty like he wanted."

He must be confident of forgiveness to make such a promise, Jane thought. Of course he might be lying, but from the way Partridge deferred to him, it was probable Dumar was a trusted confidante of Red John. He needed to take him alive at all costs.

Rebecca added, "You can't win."

"I think we have," Jane said, hoping to hear Cho and Rigsby's footsteps in the hall.

"That's because you don't understand anything," Partridge said.

"Your friends aren't coming," Rebecca smirked. "You all did just what he said you would. He's much smarter than you, you see. You should abdicate, your majesty. It's the best thing for everyone. Except your imposter prince, of course."

"I'll never leave my kingdom to that bastard," Teresa said. "Prince Frederick is my heir now."

"Oh? Then where is he?" Rebecca sneered.

"I'm right here," Jane said.

"Please. You're no more a prince than I am. Whatever happened last night, I'm betting poor weak Frederick didn't survive. On purpose? The Duke was impressed. He didn't think you were so ruthless. Or was it Mr. Jane who killed him?"

"It was me," Teresa said. "I'd rather not kill someone in my bedroom two nights in a row, but I will if necessary. How many people in this household are helping you?"

"Enough. Colonel Cho is too dangerous to live, but Captain Rigsby and Lady Grace will. For a while. Too many deaths at once would be hard to explain."

The thought of her team in danger was getting to Teresa, Jane could tell. He needed to change the subject. "What did he promise you for committing regicide? Money?"

Rebecca shook her head. "You wouldn't understand."

"He was the only person you ever met who didn't make you feel ashamed of the dark thoughts you had," Jane guessed. "And you loved him for it."

Rebecca blinked.

He had her. He just had to reel her in.

Dumar said, "Don't listen to him. He's a liar, we all know that."

"Am I? What about that wasn't true, Rebecca?" Jane held her gaze as the lantern flame faltered.

She hesitated, and in the silence they heard distant shouts. Time was running out. "Rebecca, your life isn't worth less than his. You need to stop this now." Jane kept urgency out of his voice, but it was difficult.

"Your majesty!" Madeleine shouted from what sounded like the entryway.

Everyone jumped a little, and Partridge took the opportunity to shove Jane's arm away and run for the door. Rebecca threw a knife she had concealed in her hand, forcing Jane to duck and drawing Teresa's attention away from Dumar. He knocked the gun out of her hand and aimed his at her with a manic grin.

Jane thrust his sword through Dumar's back, right where his heart was.

Madeleine burst in the door just as Dumar toppled forward, taking Jane's sword with him. She snatched a stunned Teresa out of the way and aimed her pistol at Rebecca, but Teresa furiously slammed the maid against the wall and put her own gun to the back of her skull.

"You bitch," Teresa snarled. "Don't say a word."

"Teresa," Jane said, working to get his heart rate under control. "We need her."

Teresa scowled. "She killed Hicks. She tried to kill us. And who knows what's happened to Cho and the others!"

"They'll be all right," Madeleine said. "The back door was booby trapped, but Cho spotted it just in time. That's what woke me up."

"Do you have somewhere to hold her?" Jane asked.

Grace arrived, panting and flushed. She gave a smile of relief as she saw Teresa, then grimaced as she saw Dumar's body.

Teresa reluctantly let go of Rebecca, allowing Madeleine to take her. "I'll sleep in my old room the rest of the night," she said.

"We will," Jane corrected. "Please lock her up somewhere. But don't call the police. We'll do that in the morning after I've talked to her. And start the search for Partridge."

"I'll make up your bed," Grace offered, leading the way.

As they walked down the hall, Jane set his hand on Teresa's back, dismayed to find that it shook a little. He'd acted purely on instinct in killing Dumar, and he needed time to think about it. He'd never killed before, and he'd never done something so contrary to his own self-interest either. That he'd done it to save Teresa without even thinking about it said something. Something huge.

"Are you okay?" she murmured, glancing at him.

"Yes." He was always okay. "Are you?"

"I'm really tired of people trying to kill me," she admitted.

"Understandable. I'm tired of people trying to kill you too." He meant it to sound lighthearted, but it came out grim.

"It'd be nice to have a night off," Grace agreed as she opened a door.

This room was far more suited to Teresa than the king's rooms were, Jane thought. It was light and airy, simple and straightforward, unfussy. He helped Teresa pull slipcovers off the furniture as Grace dug in a cabinet to find bed linens. The three of then nearly had the room put to rights when Rigsby entered, looking disheveled but unharmed.

"Wayne!" Grace exclaimed, hurrying over to him. "What happened?"

"Tripwired crossbow at the back door. I nearly got it in the chest, but Cho pushed me down just in time. Look." He showed her his ripped sleeve.

Teresa frowned. "I'm glad you're okay, Rigsby. Where is Cho?"

"Checking the other doors and seeing who was out of bed," Rigsby answered. "Someone got away; the boat's gone."

"Partridge," Jane guessed. "The question is, did Rebecca set all this up herself, or is there another traitor hiding in plain sight?"

"No way to know," Rigsby shrugged.

Jane entertained a brief fantasy of interrogating each one of the servants under hypnosis, but he knew Teresa wouldn't permit it.

Teresa said, "We'll give Rebecca a couple of hours to think about her situation. Then we'll get the truth out of her."

"Yes, we will." Jane itched to question her, but he wanted to make sure he was in good form first. He needed to calm down and think a little first.

"So we all need to get some rest. Rigs, help Cho. Grace, to bed. I'll need you to take charge while Cho and Rigsby catch a nap tomorrow. Later today," Teresa corrected herself.

"Yes, Boss," Grace and Rigsby chorused, then hurried out.

When the door had closed, Teresa let out a long sigh, slumping a little as she let her air of authority dissipate. "Thank you," she murmured, looking at Jane with a look of earnest gratitude that tugged at his heart. "I owe you my life."

Jane shrugged, forcing a jaunty grin. "Don't worry, I'm not going to ask for half your kingdom as a reward."

"I don't know why you'd want it," she said with a half-hearted grin. Then she sobered. "But I...I won't ask you for anything else anymore. You sacrificed a good lead to save me. I couldn't ask for more than that even if you were my subject. Thank you."

"You're welcome," he said, holding her gaze. There was a resignation in her eyes that made him unhappy. "Teresa," he began, then paused. He didn't want to give her false hope, but he didn't want her to feel rejected either. "If I were a better man, I would have something to offer you. I don't. But that isn't because of you."

She held up a hand. "You don't need to explain. Let's just get some rest. You haven't had any sleep and it's nearly morning. I'm sorry there's not a sofa in here, but the bed's big enough for two."

"And then some," Jane agreed. "I hope you don't mind me sleeping in my clothes."

"It makes no difference to me." Teresa removed her robe and slipped under the covers, lying on her side facing the edge.

Jane turned down the lamp, leaving just enough light for him to make out shapes, and lay down on top of the covers, staring at the ceiling. In a few hours he would draw as many of Red John's secrets as possible out of Rebecca and make a plan. He needed to hurry, because the duke's ability to put a plan in place to kill Teresa with less than a day's notice was alarming. She was in more danger than he'd realized.