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‘Yes, perfect for a summer’s picnic, don’t you think?’
‘It’s lovely.’
‘You deserve the best.’
She looked sharply at him and realised he was looking intently at her, as if studying her face, waiting for a reaction. For a second or two she wondered if he was going to try to seduce her and what she would do, but then dismissed the idea as preposterous. She was perfectly safe with him. And somewhere in the depths of her, where she kept her most secret thoughts, she wished she were not. She tried a light laugh, but it sounded cracked. ‘That’s the sort of thing you should be saying to Isabel to make her change her mind.’
‘But I might not want her to change her mind.’
‘You are hurt and who can blame you? She has been very unkind to you.’
‘Not unkind, honest, and that I can admire, but if she does not love me, then there is no way I would try to persuade her to marry me if she does not want to. I do not have to beg for a lady’s favour, Jane. I have more pride than that. Now drink and eat and let us not talk of Isabel again, I am becoming tired of hearing her name.’
She obeyed and they ate in silence for a few minutes, but the silence was making her conscious of other things: the warmth of the sun filtering through the leaves; the song of a thrush singing its heart out; the sheep, shorn of their winter fleece, cropping the meadow behind them; his nearness; her yearning and, over it all, the ache in her ankle, which was even more swollen and throbbing painfully. She had to distract herself from it.
‘What needs doing to Witherington House first?’ she asked, surprised at how normal her voice sounded.
‘Once we have possession, you mean? I think the roof must be first, to make it weatherproof, then the stairs...’
‘Definitely the stairs,’ she said, laughing a little.
‘Yes, then any alterations to the rooms and painting and decorating. Then finding furniture and taking on staff.’
‘Do you really think we can have it all done by the winter?’
‘I don’t see why not.’
‘And will we have enough money?’
‘We must continue to raise more.’
‘I can write more letters and organise the fair we spoke of.’
‘On one leg, Jane?’ he queried, raising an eyebrow to her.
‘That will soon mend and I will still be able to drive the trap round the village and round up some help.’
He looked down at the limb in question. There was no doubt it was more swollen. ‘I think we had better cool that down before we go on.’ He knelt to release the bandage, unwinding it carefully. The foot was beginning to turn purple. ‘You must see a doctor as soon as we get back. Sit still. I’ll go and soak this in water.’
Sit still! She could hardly move. She ate a little of the bread with some ham and washed it down with wine, which seemed to be going to her head.
He came back with the cloth wrung out in a stream he had found. ‘This should help,’ he said kneeling to rebandage her foot.
In spite of his care, she could not stop a squeak of pain mixed with pleasure at his touch. Oh, she was a mass of contradictions.
‘I’ll be as gentle as I can,’ he said.
‘You are being gentle, Mark, and I am being a coward.’
‘You are certainly not that. Now, is that better?’
‘Much, thank you.’
‘I think we had better get you home. Have you had enough to eat and drink?’
‘Yes, thank you. It was delicious.’
He packed the remnants away and put the basket back in the curricle, then came back for her. Putting his hands under her arms he pulled her upright on one foot, then picked her up. ‘I’m sorry to be such a nuisance,’ she said.
‘You are not a nuisance. It is not often I am called upon to carry a beautiful young lady in my arms and for you it is a pleasure and a privilege.’
Beautiful, he had said. She didn’t believe it for a minute; she was plain Jane, always had been, always would be, but it was lovely to hear it. In spite of her injury, it had been a wonderful day altogether. To have him to herself in close proximity was a treat to be savoured and remembered in years to come.
Mark drove very carefully, trying to avoid potholes and bumps in the road, but either she had drunk too much champagne or the pain was making her head swim, but try as she might, she could not keep it upright. Her eyes closed and she lolled on his shoulder.
He turned to smile at her and transferred the reins to the other hand so that the movement of his arm did not disturb her. Why he had only recently noticed how lovely she was, he did not know, and it was not simply a lovely face, she had a lovely temperament, quiet, caring of others, often to the detriment of her own needs, and he loved her. He could not tell her so while he was engaged to her sister, Jane herself would never countenance that, but as soon as he was officially free he would have to speak of it. He wanted her, he wanted her so badly he ached.
