The Runaway Countess by Amanda Mccabe Page B

neighbours—like that David Marton? Hayden remembered how she had smiled at the man, how he seemed to belong here in a way Hayden himself never really could.
    ‘I’d be happy to dine with you tonight,’ Hayden said tightly. ‘I’m feeling much better, Jane, really. I should be out of your way very soon.’
    Jane glanced at him, an unreadable gleam in her eyes. ‘There’s no hurry, Hayden. Not when you are just beginning to recover here.’
    She slipped through the doors into the house, leaving Hayden alone on the terrace. He studied the overgrown gardens, the tangled flowerbeds and the ragged pathways. He
had
failed Jane. He had not been able to make her happy. But he saw now there was one thing he could give her that would surely make her smile.
    If he could just find a way to make her accept it.
    ‘Did you have a dog when you were young, Hayden?’ Emma asked. ‘Do you remember it?’
    Hayden grinned at her. He couldn’t
help
but smile at her as she gambolled with her puppy in front of the fire after a most congenial dinner. There had been much laughter and chatter about inconsequential, funny things. Even Jane had laughed and exchanged a warm glance or two with him across the small table.
    Or at least he fancied she did. Hoped she did.
    Jane definitely smiled now as she looked up from the account book she studied.‘Hayden is not exactly old and decrepit now, Emma. I’m sure he can remember whether or not he had a dog.’
    ‘Despite my stick? And my grey hairs?’ Hayden said, waving the stick in the air. He nearly had no use for it any longer, yet he found himself strangely loath to let it go. It would mean he was well enough to leave Barton Park and he wasn’t ready to do that.
    Emma made a face, and tossed a ball across the room for Murray to run after. ‘Of course you aren’t old, Hayden. Just—oldish.’
    ‘Thank you very much for the distinction,’ Hayden choked out, trying not to fall over laughing.
    ‘So,’ Emma went on, ‘did you have a dog?’
    ‘Not a good dog like Murray,’ he said. ‘My father was quite the country sportsman and kept a pack of hounds, but I wasn’t supposed to go near them. And my mother had a rather vicious little lapdog who loathed everyone but her. But she quite adored it for some strange reason.’
    Emma’s pretty face crumpled. ‘Oh, poor Hayden! Everyone should have a dog to love.You must play with Murray whenever you like.’
    As if Murray agreed, he bounded up to Hayden and dropped his slimy toy ball at Hayden’s feet, marring his polished shoes.
    ‘Er—thank you very much,’ Hayden muttered doubtfully.
    ‘I’m not sure Hayden would really thank you for the favour,’ Jane said. ‘Emma, dear, could you fetch me the green ledger book from my desk in the library? I need to check something here.’
    Emma nodded, still looking most saddened by Hayden’s lack of boyhood pets, and hurried out at a run with Murray at her heels. Hayden glanced over at Jane and found her regarding him with something in her eyes he hadn’t seen in a very long time—sympathy.
    It made him want to snatch her up in his arms and hold her so very close, twirl her around in sudden bursts of joy as he once did when he would come home to Ramsay House and find her waiting for him so eagerly. Yet hard-learned caution kept him in his seat, across the room from her. He didn’t want tofrighten her, not with everything hanging between them so delicate and tentative.
    ‘Emma is most enthusiastic in her interests,’ he said.
    Jane laughed. ‘Indeed she is. And you are very kind to her. I suppose it’s a good thing I never wanted a lapdog in London, they sound like fearsome little beasties.’
    ‘Oh, they most certainly are. Fifi was fierce in guarding my mother and biting everyone else who ventured near, a veritable tiny Cerberus. But if you
had
wanted one, if it would have made you smile, I would have fetched one in a trice and laid it at your feet.’
    Her smile flickered and she