Page 82 of The Favourite

“Davis?”

He shot her a look. “It was obvious from the first that he caught her eye. Which is a shame, as I fancy Wat has taken a shine to her, and I imagine Davis a callous type when it comes to women.” Seeing Jane’s look of astonishment, he added: “Your observation skills, wife, are sadly lacking.”

Jane flushed. “You would rather Anne took a liking to Wat?” she said, glancing at the door to make sure it was shut. “Despite his—er—activities?”

He looked thoughtful. “You think spies make poor husbands, Jane?” he asked. “Now, why is that?”

“Well,” Jane considered, “I suppose I always thought they came to nasty ends. Reaping the rewards of their treachery.”

He looked amused. “Poor Wat is most assiduous in his duties, I assure you, and virtuous in all other areas of his life. He supports his old mother and goes to church on Sundays.”

“Do you actually know this for a fact,” Jane asked, “or is it merely something you amuse yourself imagining due to his sober appearance?”

He laughed. “I never trust appearances,” he replied, “and am very conscientious when it comes to employing staff.”

She thought about that a moment. “In that case, you must know for a fact that Davis is callous when it comes to women,” she pressed.

He sighed. “It is the most distressing thing. Your observation skills are terrible, but you do have a certain ruthless logic to your line of thought.”

“That’s a yes, then,” Jane decided with a frown. “Oh dear, we must think of a way to dissuade Anne’s admiration.”

“You think so? I believe such stratagems seldom work. Indeed, I imagine they would have the opposite effect.”

It was plain to see he had little interest in the subject. “Well, in any case,” she said briskly, “I appreciate your warning and will take steps where Anne is concerned.”

“That was not my intent,” he interrupted her with a roll of his eyes. “I merely wished to ensure you did not entertain Ayleth’s absurdities.”

“Oh, well …” Jane’s words trailed off. “I handled Ayleth just fine. I think, in her own way, she was trying to look out for me. She was very protective of Helen always.”

“Maybe so,” he acknowledged, “but if she does not like our country manners, then mayhap our household is not the best place for her.”

“I relayed as much to her this morn,” Jane said quietly, and he seemed to relax at this.

“Good.” He tilted his head. “Ah, that sounds like Anne, now. Thank goodness. My hat would not have lasted much longer as a diversionary tactic.”

Jane frowned, for she had heard nothing, but as she opened her mouth to say so, she heard a door shut and Anne’s quick, bustling step in the corridor outside. He must have very keen ears, she reflected, as Anne swept into the room looking a picture of vibrant health.

“Ah, Anne,” Alisander drawled. “Your kitchen quest proved fruitless, then?”

“My, what?” Anne asked, then glanced down at her empty hands and gave a short laugh. “Oh, that. Well, ‘appen I did pick up a pastry, but I ate it on the way back,” she admitted guilelessly. Almost, Jane doubted she had been dallying at all, but then she noticed Anne’s flushed cheeks. Oh dear, she thought. A pastry would not have put such a sparkle in Anne’s eye.

“They been good?” Anne asked, nodding at Celestia.

“Mostly sleeping,” Jane answered as Alisander simultaneously replied “Awful. This child has all but destroyed my favorite hat.”

“Funny-looking sort of hat,” Anne said tugging it out of Bertrand’s grasp and passing it doubtfully back to Alisander.

“Well, it is now!” he complained. “I assure you, my dear Anne, that such hats are the height of fashion in Kloberg.” Anne looked suitably impressed. “Now, if you could clear this room of infants, I would much appreciate it. Your mistress and I are expecting a visit any minute now from the esteemed tailor, Monsieur Barbier.”

Anne’s eyes widened and she darted forward to scoop up Celestia. “At once, your lordship,” she responded promptly. As soon as Anne had whisked the children from the room, Jane turned back to him.

“She was telling the truth,” she asserted with confidence, “for there were pastry flakes on her skirts. How is that for observation? And,” she added triumphantly, “I happen to know for a fact, that Anne’s mother says Anne would never willingly tell a lie.”

He extended his arm along the back of his seat. “Is that so? Well, if Anne’s mother, who neither you nor I have ever met, says so, then it must be true,” he said mockingly.

She narrowed her eyes at him. “How was your meeting?” she asked.

“Deathly dull.”