Page 12 of Hearts of Briarwall

Andrew cleared his throat and gave her a warning look she didn’t understand.

Mr. Hayes again darted a glance between her and her brother. “I’ll make a note not to offer you any carrots, Miss Wooding.”

She threw Andrew a triumphant look. “Thank you.”

“It was gracious of your brother to invite me here. I hope I haven’t inconvenienced you.”

She had no recollection of what Mr. Hayes’s voice had sounded like the last time he’d visited Briarwall, but she was sure she would’ve recalled such a deep timbre. His faint Birmingham accent only added to her curiosity. Did he hide it on purpose?

“Not at all. We’re delighted to have you.”

Florrie’s elbow into her arm jolted her.

“Oh. This is Miss Florrie Janes, a very dear friend of mine. And, er, Nibs.”

“Mr. Hayes, welcome to Surrey.” Florrie extended her hand, and Mr. Hayes took it with a gentle squeeze and nod of his head.

Why hadn’t Lydia remembered to do that?

“How do you do?” he said, releasing her hand. He crooked his finger under the dog’s chin in a brief scratch. “Pleasure to meet you, Nibs.”

Florrie stroked Nibs’s head. “I understand you’re from Birmingham.”

“Yes. Saltley.”

“How exciting,” Florrie said. “I recall my father telling me the city had gone from an industrial cesspool to one of the best governed districts in the world.”

Mr. Hayes cleared his throat. “As hesitant as I am to admit I hail from a formercesspool”—he glanced at Lydia as Andrew chuckled—“your father is correct. It is much improved even since my mother was a child.”

“I should like to see it sometime, to experience it for myself,” Florrie said. “I am always interested in improvements.”

He hesitated, as if Birmingham was a well-guarded secret. “If you should ever like a tour, Miss Janes, I’m sure I could arrange it.” He bowed.

Florrie beamed as if she’d been granted an unexpected queendom. Lydia wondered if Florrie had truly wished to see Birmingham ever in her whole life.

Lydia tipped her head. “Do you find Briarwall much changed, Mr. Hayes?”

He met her gaze. He had a longish face, a straight nose, and a square chin. And full lips. She pulled her gaze quickly from such a beautiful mouth.

“I’ve only just arrived, but for the most part, I find it unchanged.”

“And what is it you find different?” she asked.

He held her gaze a moment longer, then blinked and looked around the room. “Well, for one, I recall a large hunting scene over the fireplace, and now it is this lovely portrait. Your parents, correct?”

She glanced at the portrait and back to him. “Yes. You have an astonishing memory.” She’d not thought of the hunting painting for ages.

“Your parents had quite an impact on me during the few occasions I was able to visit.”

“I’m glad to hear it. The few memories I have of them are happy ones.” She wondered if it would be socially acceptable for her to ask Mr. Hayes to share some of his memories during his stay.

“I was terribly sorry to learn of your loss,” he said.

“Thank you. Andrew has told me what your friendship meant to him.”

He flickered a glance at Andrew, who gave a short nod. “I’m glad to hear it.”

Ralston appeared. “Dinner is nearly ready, sir.”

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