happen!’ she said, laughing helplessly. ‘I can’t even believe it.’
‘Of course it really happened.’ Hayden grinned at her, looking rather like a naughty schoolboy telling a joke he knew he shouldn’t. ‘You remember Lady Worthington’s pet monkey. She always insisted on taking the blasted thing to every party and it always escaped.’
‘Yes, but her footmen also captured the poor creature before it could wreak too much havoc.’
‘Not this time. The wretched thing proved too wily for everyone and stole Prinny’s hairpiece before carrying it up to the chandeliers. When he dropped it into the soup, Mrs Carlyle swore it was an immense African spider and, in all her shrieking and flailing, tore the cloth right off the table. Along with all the dishes. Luckily the bottle of port right in front of me was spared.’
Jane pressed her napkin to her mouth,giggling at the wild images Hayden’s dry, matter-of-fact rendition of the tale conjured up in her mind. She had forgotten that about Hayden—that he could be so very much
fun
. That he could see the ridiculous in any event and make her see it, too.
‘I do wish I had seen that,’ she said. ‘But I’m glad Emma didn’t. She would have demanded a pet monkey.’
Hayden refilled her wine glass and she suddenly realised that his was still half-full. He had been drinking remarkably little that night.
‘To keep the dog company?’ he said. ‘That creature barks more than any canine I’ve ever seen. Perhaps he needs a friend.’
‘She does adore Murray,’ Jane said, sipping at the wine. It felt good to sit and just talk with Hayden, to be comfortable with him. Even though she knew such a moment couldn’t last long, not with them. ‘He was the runt of a litter one of the local farmers had and she rescued him. He’s better than the last pet. It was a hedgehog and a rather ill-tempered one.’
‘She said she collects plant specimens as well.’
‘Oh, yes. She’ll show you her laboratory if you give her the slightest encouragement.’
Hayden sat back in his chair and watched her, a half-smile on his lips. ‘You
are
happy here, aren’t you, Jane?’
‘Of course,’ she answered in surprise. She’d thought Hayden was far beyond noticing or caring whether she was happy or unhappy. Surely he could never think someone could be happy in the country. ‘It’s always been my home. You would think it much too quiet, though. The most excitement we ever have is when the vicar comes to call, or there’s an assembly in the village.’
‘They say the hunting is good around here,’ he said. He toyed with the stem of his glass between his long, elegant fingers, and Jane found herself mesmerised by the movement. By a flashing memory of what those beautiful hands could do.
She tore her stare away from him and took a quick bite of the lemon-trifle dessert on her plate. She nearly choked on it. ‘It is. My grandparents even helped start the local huntclub—they were avid riders. I’m sure Emma would enjoy the sport, too, but we can’t afford to keep horses.’
Hayden nodded and Jane noticed that a shadow seemed to flicker over his face. But he never stopped the slow, lazy turning of the glass. ‘You could let me help you, Jane.’
‘No,’ she said, suddenly feeling cold. ‘No, I can’t do that.’
‘As much as you seem to want to fight the fact, I
am
your husband,’ he said, so calm, so rational. It almost made her want the old, heated quarrels they had when he drank. They were easier for her to dismiss than this new, quiet, solemn Hayden. The man who was a stranger and yet also someone she knew so intimately.
‘As if I could ever forget that,’ she said.
‘Then let me help you. It’s the least I can do after how I treated you.’
‘How you treated me?’ Jane choked out. Like when they fought? Like when she only wanted his attention, the one thing that wasn’t hers? Like when he refused to understand her? Or when she refused to
‘Of course it really happened.’ Hayden grinned at her, looking rather like a naughty schoolboy telling a joke he knew he shouldn’t. ‘You remember Lady Worthington’s pet monkey. She always insisted on taking the blasted thing to every party and it always escaped.’
‘Yes, but her footmen also captured the poor creature before it could wreak too much havoc.’
‘Not this time. The wretched thing proved too wily for everyone and stole Prinny’s hairpiece before carrying it up to the chandeliers. When he dropped it into the soup, Mrs Carlyle swore it was an immense African spider and, in all her shrieking and flailing, tore the cloth right off the table. Along with all the dishes. Luckily the bottle of port right in front of me was spared.’
Jane pressed her napkin to her mouth,giggling at the wild images Hayden’s dry, matter-of-fact rendition of the tale conjured up in her mind. She had forgotten that about Hayden—that he could be so very much
fun
. That he could see the ridiculous in any event and make her see it, too.
‘I do wish I had seen that,’ she said. ‘But I’m glad Emma didn’t. She would have demanded a pet monkey.’
Hayden refilled her wine glass and she suddenly realised that his was still half-full. He had been drinking remarkably little that night.
‘To keep the dog company?’ he said. ‘That creature barks more than any canine I’ve ever seen. Perhaps he needs a friend.’
‘She does adore Murray,’ Jane said, sipping at the wine. It felt good to sit and just talk with Hayden, to be comfortable with him. Even though she knew such a moment couldn’t last long, not with them. ‘He was the runt of a litter one of the local farmers had and she rescued him. He’s better than the last pet. It was a hedgehog and a rather ill-tempered one.’
‘She said she collects plant specimens as well.’
‘Oh, yes. She’ll show you her laboratory if you give her the slightest encouragement.’
Hayden sat back in his chair and watched her, a half-smile on his lips. ‘You
are
happy here, aren’t you, Jane?’
‘Of course,’ she answered in surprise. She’d thought Hayden was far beyond noticing or caring whether she was happy or unhappy. Surely he could never think someone could be happy in the country. ‘It’s always been my home. You would think it much too quiet, though. The most excitement we ever have is when the vicar comes to call, or there’s an assembly in the village.’
‘They say the hunting is good around here,’ he said. He toyed with the stem of his glass between his long, elegant fingers, and Jane found herself mesmerised by the movement. By a flashing memory of what those beautiful hands could do.
She tore her stare away from him and took a quick bite of the lemon-trifle dessert on her plate. She nearly choked on it. ‘It is. My grandparents even helped start the local huntclub—they were avid riders. I’m sure Emma would enjoy the sport, too, but we can’t afford to keep horses.’
Hayden nodded and Jane noticed that a shadow seemed to flicker over his face. But he never stopped the slow, lazy turning of the glass. ‘You could let me help you, Jane.’
‘No,’ she said, suddenly feeling cold. ‘No, I can’t do that.’
‘As much as you seem to want to fight the fact, I
am
your husband,’ he said, so calm, so rational. It almost made her want the old, heated quarrels they had when he drank. They were easier for her to dismiss than this new, quiet, solemn Hayden. The man who was a stranger and yet also someone she knew so intimately.
‘As if I could ever forget that,’ she said.
‘Then let me help you. It’s the least I can do after how I treated you.’
‘How you treated me?’ Jane choked out. Like when they fought? Like when she only wanted his attention, the one thing that wasn’t hers? Like when he refused to understand her? Or when she refused to
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