“This is a bit far to go, even for Mrs. Wattlesbrook.”
“She didn’t send me,” said Nobley-Henry. “Not before, not now. I sent myself, or rather I came because I . . . I had to try. Look, I know this is extreme, but the ticket was nonrefundable. Could I at least accompany you home?”
“This is hardly a stroll through the park.”
“I’m tired of parks.”
She noticed that his tone was more casual now. He lost the stilted Regency air, his words relaxed enough to allow contractions—but besides that, so far Henry didn’t seem much different from Mr. Nobley.
He leaned back and closed his eyes, as if trying to calm down. “It was a good gig, but the pay wasn’t astronomical, so you can imagine my relief to find you weren’t flying first class. Though I’d prefer a cargo ship, frankly. I hate planes.”
“Mr. Nob—Uh, Henry, it’s not too late to get off the plane. I’m not writing that book.”
“What book?”
“Oh. And I’m not rich.”
“I know. Mrs. Wattlesbrook outlines every guest’s financials along with their profiles. It’s rather ghoulish of her, to be honest.”
“Why would you come after me if you knew I wasn’ t—”
“That’s what I’m trying to tell you. You’re irresistible.”
She snorted derisively. “I am not.”
“I’m not happy about it. You really are the most irritating person I’ve ever met. I’d managed to avoid women of any temptation whatsoever for four years—a very easy task in Pembrook Park. Things were going splendidly, I was right on track to die unattached and alone. And then . . .”
“You don’t know me! You know Miss Erstwhile, but—”
“Come now, ever since I witnessed your abominable performance in the theatrical, it’s been clear that you can’t act to save your life. All two weeks, that was you.” He smiled. “And I wanted to keep knowing you. Well, I didn’t at first. I wanted you to go away and leave me in peace. I’ve made a career out of avoiding any possibility of a real relationship. And then to find you in that circus . . . It didn’t make sense. But what does?”
“Nothing. Nothing makes sense,” said Jane with conviction. “Least of all whatever is happening here. If you’re being serious, this is a huge gamble to take for someone you’ve only sort of known for two weeks.”
“True. But I just know. That it’s you.”
Her breath caught in her chest, and despite herself, she found herself asking, “When? When did you know?”
He smiled to himself as if at a memory. “My overreaction to you was my first clue. You got under my skin and I couldn’t figure out why, but it was a clear sign that I cared what you thought about me. I felt wounded whenever you acknowledged I was an actor. Eventually I realized that was because I didn’t want you to see me that way. I wanted you to see . . .me. Oh gods, save me from my insufferable self, but it’s true.”
Again, Jane’s heart softened and threatened to melt. She lifted her hand to touch his where it squeezed the armrestbetween them, but she stopped herself an inch away. “It’s not selfish to want to be seen as you are. It’s so very human.”
He nodded, though his eyes squinted as if being this open was costing him something. Still, he didn’t withdraw. “And then . . . you kept making me laugh. No one makes me laugh.”
“This I believe.”
They met eyes then, both smiling, almost ready to laugh at nothing just to feel that way again together. But his gaze dropped first.
“Could you tell me . . . Am I being too forward to ask? . . . Of course, I just bought a plane ticket on impulse, so worrying about being forward at this point is pointless . . . This is so bizarre, I am not a romantic.Ahem.My question is, What do you want?”
“What do I . . . ?” This really was bizarre. Maybe she should ask that woman to change seats again.
“I mean it. Besides something real. You already told me that. I like to think I’m real, after all. So, what do you really want?”
A family, a companion, a home. A place and a people where I belong.She didn’t quite dare to speak her heart’s wish aloud yet, so she found another true thing to say instead.
“Like everybody, I guess I want to be happy. I used to want Mr. Darcy—laugh at me if you want—or the idea of him. Someone who made me feel all the time like I felt when I watched those movies.” It was hard for her to admit, but once she had, it was like licking the last of the icing from the bowl. That hopeless fantasy was empty now.
“Right. Well, do you think it possible—” He hesitated, his fingers played with the buttons on the arm of his seat. “Do you think someone like me could be what you want?”
