The Runaway Countess by Amanda Mccabe Page A

any longer and the furniture was shrouded with canvas covers. It made everything feel even stranger, more unreal, as did the echoing quiet of the house. Usually Emma and her dog were running around, the cook was banging pots and pans as loudly as she could in the kitchen and Hannah was singing as she dusted.
    For such a small household, they made a lot of noise. Far more than the fully-staffed, impeccably run London house. But tonight even Emma was being quiet.
    Jane paused as she reached for the door handle. She couldn’t hear anything in the dining room. What if Hayden wasn’t reallythere? What if he had changed his mind and run off back to London, despite the muddy roads?
    Half-sure she would find the room empty, she pushed open the door.
    The long table, which had been covered and empty for so long, was polished to a high gleam, set off by dozens of candles lit along its length and set on the sideboard. Two places were set at the far end with her mother’s china and silver that had been packed away for safekeeping, and wonderful, enticing scents of cinnamon and stewed fruit emanated from the covered dishes on the sideboard. Her mother’s portrait had even been taken from the attic and hung back in its old place on the faded wallpaper.
    Jane took it all in, amazed at the transformation, until her gaze landed on Hayden. He stood behind the chair at the head of the table, dressed in a fine velvet-trimmed blue coat and faultlessly tied cravat, his glossy black hair smoothed back from his face.
    ‘Have I suddenly been transported to a different house?’ she said with a laugh. ‘This can’t possibly be Barton Park.’
    A smile cracked his cautious façade and he hurried over to take her hand. He raised it to his lips for a soft, lingering kiss, and Jane shivered at the sensation of his mouth on her skin. It had been so very long since she had felt that. She’d forgotten the immediate, visceral reaction she always had to his touch.
    ‘It’s amazing what a bit of polish can do,’ Hayden said as he led her to the chairs. ‘Emma found the china and most of the candle holders in the attic, along with the portrait.’
    ‘I knew she was up to something!’ Jane cried. ‘She is becoming much too good at subterfuge.’ She sat down in the chair Hayden held out and arranged her skirts as she watched him sit down next to her. The candlelight shimmered over him, turning his skin to purest pale gold.
    ‘She seemed very excited to help me set up a small surprise for you,’ Hayden said. He reached for a ewer of wine and filled their glasses. ‘She agrees with me—you work far too hard here.’
    Jane sipped at the sweet, rich red liquidand wondered where he’d unearthed it. ‘I told you, I like the work. It keeps me occupied.’
    ‘And there was nothing to keep you occupied in London?’
    Jane set the glass down with a thump. ‘Did you bring me here to quarrel again, Hayden?’
    He shook his head. ‘The very last thing I want to do is quarrel with you, Jane. I’m so weary of that and you deserve better.’
    ‘Do I?’ She swallowed hard past a sudden lump in her throat. She did deserve better; they both deserved better than the half-life they had lived together. She’d always wanted him to see that, to tell him that things could be different, but she had never found the right words. Until she didn’t believe it herself.
    Hannah hurried in with a tureen of soup and Jane couldn’t say anything at all. As they sampled the first courses of what looked like the most elaborate meal Barton had seen in a long time, she asked him about his friends in London, how Ramsay House was faring, anything but the two of them. Anything but what happened between them before.
    Anything but the lost babies.
    And slowly, as the candles sputtered lowerand the darkness gathered outside, as Hannah served the elaborate meal and more wine was poured, something very strange happened. Jane started to enjoy herself.
    ‘Oh, that didn’t really