‘It’s much better,’ he insisted with a laugh. ‘You don’t need to fuss any more, Jane. I know I’m capable of walking into the village without collapsing.’
Jane had to laugh, too. She was fussing, even though it was quite clear Hayden could take care of himself. For the last two days, since their dinner alone and the kiss that sent her life spinning, he had worked in the garden, cleaning flowerbeds with her between the rains. He dug through the piles of old books in the library with Emma. He played cards with her in the evenings, much to her giggling delight. He took Murray for walks.
And he drank only small amounts of wine and walked her to her chamber door every night, leaving her with a kiss on the cheek. She wasn’t sure if she was relieved or disappointed by that sweet salute. Kissing, and all the delicious things that went along with it, were always the things the two of them got exactly right.
But she did know she was utterly mystified by this new Hayden. He was so attentive, so interested in what went on at Barton. He fit into their quiet life, as if he had merely been the last piece of the puzzle that needed to be slid into place.
Back in London, where every minute had been so full of wild, dizzying activity, she would never have pictured Hayden in his shirtsleeves digging about in the garden with her—and laughing about it. She always felt slightly on edge, waiting for his game to be over and the Hayden she’d come to see as a wild stranger emerge again. She waited for the moment he grew tired of them and left, never to be seen again.
Yet he was still there. And he showed no signs of leaving Barton.
Jane was afraid she was becoming all too accustomed to having him there, to working alongside him as they talked quietly of inconsequential things, and of watching him laugh with Emma. She’d only just begun to pick up the shards of her scattered life. She’d have to cry all over again when he did leave.
But today didn’t look like it would be that day. The sky was overcast, but the rains hadn’t started again. Emma wanted to walk into the village to see if there was anything new at the bookshop and Hayden immediately agreed to walk with them. It would be the first time in days that they had left their cosy nest at Barton and went out among other people. The village was not London, of course, but Jane still didn’t know what would happen.
Emma dashed ahead of them with Murray, her bonnet dangling by its ribbons down her back. Hayden walked next to Jane, close but not touching, and they went in silence for several long minutes.
‘Do you often walk into the village?’ he asked.
‘Not very often,’ Jane answered, glad of something neutral, easy to speak of. ‘We’re so busy at Barton. But this is an easy walk on a fine day and Emma likes to visit the bookshop. We’ve been once or twice to the assembly rooms, too. There are a surprising number of fine musicians who live nearby and play for the dancing. It’s not a grand London ball, but most enjoyable.’
‘And does Emma enjoy the dancing as much as she does the bookshop?’
‘Not nearly as much, I fear,’ Jane said with a laugh. ‘But I try to find her what society I can.’
‘Perhaps there are no worthy dance partners for her.’
‘Perhaps not. But then I am not sure what she would consider “worthy”. She spurns whatever young man offers her attention.’
‘And do you also dance at the assemblies, Jane?’
There was a strangely intent note in Hayden’s voice, as if suddenly they weren’t merely chatting. Her steps slowed as they came to the small clearing where the road split off in two branches. One led into the village, the other to an old farmhouse that was half-burned and falling in on itself. A river ran along the roadside there, out of sight down a sloping bank.
Usually the waters were placid, a fine spot for a picnic on a nice day, but now it was swollen from the rains and she could hear the rush and tumble of it over the rocks. Emma had vanished down by its waves and Jane could hear her calling after Murray.
‘Of course I don’t dance,’ she said. ‘I am an old married lady. My job is to chaperon Emma.’
‘Yet surely you have friends you talk to at parties? You said you did.’
What was he really asking? Jane turned to study him, but his face was shadowed under his hat. ‘A few. But not as many as you have in London.’
He gave a harsh laugh. ‘I don’t have friends in London, Jane, as you rightfully pointed out. I have people I know.’
‘What of Lord John Eastwood? Is he not your friend?’ John Eastwood had been the best man at their wedding, a friend of Hayden’s from schooldays, and he was the only crony of Hayden’s she’d really liked. He actually talked to her. And he seemed so sad after the sudden death of Lady Eastwood. Jane had hoped John could help Hayden after their own marriage crumbled.
‘John has been in the country lately,’ Hayden said shortly.
‘Then What of—?’ Jane clamped her mouth tightly shut on the words. She’d almost blurted out ‘What of Lady Marlbury?’ But she didn’t really want to know if he saw Lady Marlbury.
‘What about what?’ he asked.
‘Nothing,’ she said quickly. She called for Emma and hurried on towards the village, away from the river and the burned-out farmhouse. Away from the past and her own emotions of what had happened there.
The village was a small one, just a few cobbled lanes and a green centred around a stone thirteenth-century church and the long, low building housing the assembly rooms. Even though Jane didn’t make the walk in very often, everyone there knew her. And they all seemed to be out that afternoon, hurrying in and out of the shops, strolling on the shady green, shaking rugs out of windows.
Everyone called out greetings to Jane, looking curiously at Hayden until she stopped to introduce him. Then their surprise turned to smiles. Jane knew they’d all wondered about her as the months went on and she stayed alone at Barton, Lord Ramsay nowhere in evidence. No one had ever been rude enough to ask outright where he was, though Louisa Marton had hinted once or twice. But now they were all so clearly happy to see them together.
Jane was half-afraid Hayden would be bored in the village. The tension of their short conversation by the river still lingered between them, taut as a rope binding them, but holding them apart.
But he went with her into the shops, carrying her purchases and conversing affably with everyone who stopped them. He was friendly, joking, chatting about farming matters and local gossip quite as if he was deeply interested in them. Jane was astonished; this was not the Hayden she’d come to know in London. This was the Hayden who had been with her all too briefly at Ramsay House on their honeymoon, the one who had slipped away from her.
‘I didn’t know you had read about sheep cultivation in the country,’ she said as they stepped out of the draper’s and turned towards the bookshop to fetch Emma.
Hayden laughed. ‘I have all sorts of hidden interests, Jane. But you mustn’t tell anyone. Wouldn’t want to ruin my reputation as a care-for-nothing, would we?’
She had so many questions flying around in her mind. Why would Hayden hide his true intelligence, especially from her? She opened her mouth to ask him more, but suddenly a woman called, ‘Lady Ramsay! Lady Ramsay, how lovely to see you again.’
Jane turned to see Louisa Marton rushing towards them across the street, the plumes on her bonnet waving. David Marton walked behind her, more cautious.
‘How do you do, Miss Marton? Sir David?’ Jane said. She remembered Hayden’s irrational jealousy when he had arrived at Barton and found the Martons there. How he had asked her so closely about Sir David and her ‘friendships’ in the village. She glanced up at him from under the brim of her straw hat, but his face was blandly polite. Only the slight narrowing of his eyes as he looked at Sir David showed he was thinking anything at all. ‘You remember Lord Ramsay?’
‘Oh, of course we do,’ Louisa said with a giggle. ‘Don’t we, David? It’s no wonder we haven’t seen you in a few days. You two must be very busy.’
‘There is certainly much to b
e done at Barton, Miss Marton,’ Hayden said. ‘I’m very grateful my wife has had such good friends to help her while I’ve been away on business. I wouldn’t want her to be lonely.’
‘Anyone would be honoured to stand in as a friend to Lady Ramsay,’ David said quietly. ‘Especially when she is most in need of one.’
The two men stared at each other in a long, tense moment as Louisa giggled and Jane tried to think of something—anything—to say. Finally the strange atmosphere was broken when Emma came hurrying out of the bookshop and they turned towards home after making their farewells to the Martons.
‘We shall see you soon, I hope, Lady Ramsay!’ Louisa called after them. ‘I will have a small musical evening soon, which I do hope you will attend…’
‘What did the Martons want?’ Emma asked as they walked back past the burned-out farmhouse. ‘Sir David looked positively animated there for an instant, which is more than I can usually say for him.’
‘Don’t be rude, Emma,’ Jane chided. ‘The Martons have been very kind to us.’
Emma shrugged and went on to chatter about the new books she had found all the way to the gates of Barton Park, so that Jane and Hayden could say nothing to each other. Jane thought that was just as well, since she wasn’t sure what she would want to say, anyway. Once they were on the pathway to the house again, Emma ran up the drive ahead of them and they were alone for a moment.
‘So the Martons are proud to be your good friends?’ Hayden asked quietly.
‘I told you,’ Jane said, exasperated by his strange attitude. ‘They are near neighbours and Sir David is widely read and has many interesting opinions, even if Emma does think him dull. So, yes, they are friends. Did you think I would just sit here alone while you ran about London? That I would make no life for myself and my sister?’
‘You never had to be alone, Jane. We could have shared the life in London. You could have had friends there.’
She shook her head, suddenly so tired. This was something they had quarrelled about before and there was no solution. No moving back or forwards.
Suddenly Emma gave a shout, and Jane saw her dashing back up the drive towards them. ‘Jane, come quickly! It’s the most amazing thing.’
Bewildered, Jane hurried after her sister until they turned the corner in sight of the house.
It really was the most amazing thing. There was work being done on Barton. There were several men climbing about on the roof, busily fixing the patches that had been worn away in all the rain. Others were examining the cracked windows and hauling barrows of debris from the garden.
‘What is this?’ she cried. She spun around to face Hayden as he limped closer to her. ‘Did you do this?’
He gave a sheepish smile. ‘Surprise, Jane. I thought you might be tired of moving those buckets around every time it rains.’
‘Hayden,’ she said slowly. She could hardly credit what she was seeing right before her—and that Hayden had thought of this all on his own. ‘I—shouldn’t let you do this. It’s too much.’
‘Of course you should. You’ve let me into your house; you won’t take money from me. I want to do something for you and for Barton Park. Patching the roof is the least I can do now.’
He wanted to do something for Barton? Jane was amazed and touched. Against her will, she felt herself softening towards him just the tiniest bit. She’d seen a side to him today she hadn’t in a very long time, and it made her feel reluctantly—hopeful. Maybe Barton did have the power to change people.
‘Well,’ she said, ‘if you insist on patching the leaky roof, who am I to deny you?’
Hayden laughed and took her arm to walk with her towards the house. ‘Now you are coming around to my point of view, Jane. I knew you would eventually…’
Chapter Nine
‘Are you quite sure you don’t mind helping me find books, Hayden?’ Emma asked, her voice muffled from where she knelt under a haphazard pile of volumes.
Hayden smiled down at the top of her head, the straw crown of her bonnet just visible. ‘Of course I don’t mind. Why should I?’
Emma handed up two books for him to hold. ‘It just doesn’t seem like a little village bookshop would be your natural habitat.’
Hayden studied the store, the jumbled shelves jammed with volumes, the streaked windows, the old, white-haired proprietor, Mr Lorne, who obviously knew Emma very well as he had kept back a stack of books for her. It was quiet and overly warm, smelling of lavender and book dust, its own little world. ‘It’s true I’m not much of a reader. But I fear I would have been in your sister’s way while she made the grocery order and I don’t think I should try to get in her black books any more than I already am.’
‘Hmm—not much of a reader. Nor much of a country dweller, I would say,’ Emma said. She handed him another book and rose to her feet, brushing the dust from her skirts. ‘Have you always lived in town?’
‘When I was a child I lived at Ramsay House with my parents, but I don’t go there often now,’ Hayden answered. ‘I suppose I do prefer city life.’
‘Really? Why?’
Hayden shrugged, still not quite used to his sister-in-law’s forthright, curious nature. It was so unlike anything he had ever known in his own family. He also wasn’t used to looking too closely inside himself, the dark corners and cobwebbed passages. ‘I like to keep busy, I suppose.’
‘And there isn’t enough to keep you busy at Ramsay House? Jane said it was quite vast.’
‘So it is. And I have an excellent estate manager to keep it going for me.’
‘It’s not quite the same as taking care of it yourself, is it? Not if it’s home, as Barton Park is. I missed it so much when we were gone from it.’
‘I’m not sure Ramsay House is much of a home,’ Hayden admitted, surprised to find himself saying words he had barely even thought before. But there was something about Jane’s innocent sister, about the whole intimate world of Barton and its environs, that forced him to be honest. ‘I never felt I really belonged there until Jane was there with me.’
Emma’s eyes widened. ‘But then why—?’
She was interrupted when the shop door opened with a tinkle of bells and someone called her name. As she hurried to greet her friend, Hayden moved to a quiet corner behind a bank of shelves. He pretended to examine the books, but in his mind he was suddenly back at Ramsay House. With Jane.
He had a flashing memory of carrying Jane over the threshold, the two of them laughing. Jane’s laughter as she wrapped her arms around him and sent them both tumbling to the bed. The taste of her skin under his lips, the sound of her sighs. There, in bed, when they were alone, he could make her happy.
It was only when they left their sensual cocoon that he couldn’t decipher what she really wanted.
Hayden stared at the rows of volumes before him and wished there was a book that could tell him, finally, what to do for Jane. How to make things right.
He heard an echo of merry laughter and, for an instant, thought it was another memory of one of their too-brief moments of happiness. But then he saw that Jane stood outside the shop window, chatting with someone, laughing at some joke. She looked as she had in those days when they dashed together through the gardens at Ramsay House, her face alight with joy, young and free.
But this time he wasn’t the one to put that happiness there. Hayden had the sudden, terrible realisation that he had always let Jane down. He had swept her off her feet because he wanted her so much, then he hadn’t known how to keep her. He hadn’t even tried and he had no one to blame but himself. His parents had taught him badly and he hadn’t even thought to escape them.
It was he alone who hadn’t been the right husband for Jane. And that thought struck him like a shotgun blast.
Jane glanced through the window and saw him watching her. Her laughter faded and a frown flickered over her face. He had to prove himself to her, that was all. But how could he do that, how could he make it up to his brave wife, when he didn’t know w
here to start?
‘Hayden, you are dreadful! You must be cheating,’ Emma cried as she tossed her cards down on the table. ‘That is the third hand you’ve won tonight.’
Jane had to laugh at the disgruntled look on Emma’s face. Her sister loved to play cards, but Emma was also easily distracted and often lost track of the game. She could only keep up with an experienced gamester like Hayden for a short while.
But Hayden never let Emma feel like he was ‘letting’ her win, or like she was slow-witted for losing. The two of them seemed as if they could play for ever, something Jane would never have expected. But then Hayden wasn’t behaving at all as she would have once expected.
Hayden grinned as he gathered up the scattered cards. ‘A gentleman never cheats, Emma. Luck is with me tonight.’
‘Luck is always with you,’ Emma grumbled. She turned to Jane and added, ‘It’s most unfair, isn’t it, Jane?’
Jane plied her needle carefully through the linen she was mending. ‘Life is always most unfair, Emma dear.’
‘Indeed it is. I wish the rain would stop,’ Emma said. They could hear the drops pattering at the sitting-room window. It had started when they sat down to dinner, a slow, steady drip that would make the already muddy roads even more impassable.
So Hayden would have to stay even longer.
Jane studied him as he shuffled the cards and dealt them between him and Emma again. They hadn’t spoken much since their quarrel in the village that afternoon, but he seemed to be in a good humour again. He’d laughed and joked over dinner, making Emma giggle with tales of London gossip. Everything was so comfortable between them all tonight, cosy almost.
Once, this had been all she longed for with Hayden. A happy family life for the two of them. It was the one thing he couldn’t give her in the end—the one thing they couldn’t give each other. To see it before her now made her heart ache at how bittersweet life could be. Emma was right—things were most unfair.
Jane had been angry at his too-quick assumptions about David Marton, that was true. Hayden had no right to say such things to her when he was no doubt engaged in all kinds of debaucheries in town! But now, wrapped up in this warm evening, she couldn’t hold on to her anger any longer.
The Runaway Countess Page 10
