More on this book
Community
Kindle Notes & Highlights
“I agree with Peter,” she said. “We shall simply endure Hadley’s coming the way all English have faced Scots over the centuries—with impeccable manners, reserved politeness, and sardonic verve.”
Andrew might have been insulted by it, but as she was muddy, disheveled, and wet—decidedly resembling a half-drowned kitten, spitting in outrage—it was difficult to take offense.
That had always been his mother’s motto: Never allow others to choose how you feel, particularly if someone wished you to feel ashamed.
“Be that as it may, my lord, but Polite Society and the ton—” “—can go hang itself, for naught I care. The ton is no’ ma concern. I will not contort myself into a popinjay so’s tae blend in with other popinjays. I prefer the life of a lone hawk.”
Jane almost pitied Lady Macbeth in that moment. The poor woman had to deal with unruly Scots at every turn. No wonder she had gone mad in the end.
“And I willnae say anything about yer wee tumble into the burn.” His warm breath tickled her ear, sending gooseflesh scattering down her arms. “No’ because ye ken me a gentleman but because I’m a decent human being. Mayhap someday ye’ll care tae see that.”
Ah. He wasn’t to see Fiery Jane today. Just polite, chilly Prim Jane. He refused to feel perplexed about the prospect. But it seemed some small part of him, tickling right beneath his sternum, did care—
But Andrew was male and, like most men, capable of being attracted to a woman he had no intention of pursuing.
How could the man be so vulgar and free-mannered and yet so annoyingly capable at the same time? The sheer audacity of it infuriated her. The bloody Scotsman should be monolithic in his defects. Vulgar and incompetent. Coarse and unfit.
His mixing of good and bad qualities—kind but unmannered, skilled but boisterous—addled her thinking and sense of order.
Often, when we take a dislike to someone, it is because we see our own failings in them. We hate these faults in ourselves, and so we abhor them in others.
“Nonsense.” Hadley grinned at her. “With such fire in ye, ye must set it free more often.”
“Will ye please show me your collection, Lady Jane?” His eyes met hers again. “I would very much like tae understand it better. It seems like it might be full of surprises.” And suddenly he wasn’t just talking about a mineral collection. I want to understand you better, his look seemed to say.
“Not everyone, my lord. My wise nanny once told me that unhappiness can be measured by the distance between reality and our expectations of reality.”
How had they reached this point again? Her . . . the icy princess. Him . . . the oafish buffoon.
Whisky was dangerous. It had a frustrating tendency to jostle things loose, like top hats or hairpins or truths.
Maybe this was why his Scottish forebears chose to toss heavy stones and logs around. With no English around to pummel, they resorted to whatever they had on hand.
“I’ve never been kissed.” Her voice had a plaintive quality, as if the change in topic were perfectly logical. “Never?” She shook her head. “No.” “That’s a shame. Ye should do something about it.” “I tried. I kissed the back of my hand.” She lifted her other hand and pressed a kiss to the back of it. She pulled her hand away, studying it. “I don’t think it’s quite the same, do you?” “Nae. I dinnae think it’s the same thing at all.” “No,” she pouted. The motion forced her plump lower lip to jut out further. Andrew found himself unable to look away. “You were made for kissing, Jane.” “I know.”
...more
She had dared Andrew into the drawing room, convinced he would be repulsed by her wilder self. How wrong she had been. Andrew didn’t like her despite her fire. He liked her because of her fire. The thought trembled the foundations of her world.
Marry an elderly peer, raise your social standing, collect your plump widow’s jointure when the time comes. Her mother had made the same choice, twice over. Jane could not reply. The scream stuck in her throat. How could she find a way out of this? Jane had always known she lived in a gilded prison. She just hated that every time she rattled the lock and tried to step into the light, her gaolers reminded her exactly how strong the bars were.
“Ye deserve tae know that only the purest of love sent your beloved to the altar.” Jane hiccupped, biting her lip in earnest. “Now, here’s the part that gets a wee bit difficult for myself.” He cleared his throat. “I want that man tae be me, Jane.”
And how odd to be slicing roast beef and wondering which of his dinner companions had ordered his murder?
“Justice cannot save those who d-died.” She hiccupped. “But m-mercy . . . mercy can save the living.”
“You can’t steal my whole world, Andrew! No, worse!” She jabbed a finger at him. “You cannot condemn my world to hang and then expect that I will have a heart left for you.”
“Don’t let Hadley slip through your fingers, Jane.” Peter kissed her forehead. “He is a good man. Better than either of your brothers.”
“I am most sorry then.” He pecked her mouth. “Because I could have been kissing ye all these weeks.”
“Oh, aye.” He nearly preened. “I’m most glad that we have come to such a level of understanding in our marriage. When did ye become so wise, Lady Hadley?” “The day a handsome eejit handed me the moon.” She lifted her wrist, his bracelet jingling.
