Garrett narrowed his eyes on her face. “Why did the other children make fun of you? Because you were so much more intelligent than they were?”

She resumed her ribbon plucking. “No.” The way she said the word made his heart tug. “When I was a child, I didn’t allow anyone to know I was intelligent. I desperately wanted to be accepted, and being intelligent was not the way to become admired, especially for a girl.”

“Then why did they make fun of you?”

This time there was no mistaking the pink blush that crept across Jane’s pretty freckled cheeks. “I didn’t look like the rest of them. They didn’t like that.”

He furrowed his brow even deeper. “Didn’t look like the rest of them? I don’t understand. Were they all blond?” How could she not look like the rest of them?

The edge of her mouth quirked up. “I was quite a portly child. Mama called me plump, but portly was a much more apt description.”

Garrett uncrossed his ankles and sat up straight. He couldn’t imagine it. Jane? Pretty, intelligent, simple, sarcastic Jane? Portly?

“I don’t believe it.”

“I can assure you it’s true.” She sighed.

“Your mother called you plump?”

“Quite often, actually. She thought it was a kind word.”

“It’s not kind at all.” There was a slight growl in his voice. Where had that come from?

“Yes, well, I ate even more teacake as a girl than I do now, I’m afraid, and it didn’t melt away the way it does now when I take a good healthy walk every day. Cass will most likely have to roll me from this bed when my ankle has healed.”

He was still trying to conjure the image of Jane being portly. He knew she’d been a wallflower. She’d been inordinately pleased about that fact ever since he’d met her. He’d believed she preferred to be a wallflower, was one by choice. “You said the other children … They … made sport of you?”

Jane tugged at a dark curl that had fallen over her shoulder, and Garrett had to resist the urge to reach out and stroke it too. “They did indeed,” she replied. “That’s why it was so much better after I remained at home. I only had to endure their teasing when I went out with Mama or at church on Sundays.”

Garrett lurched in his chair and planted both boots on the floor. “They made sport of you at church?”

“Oh, my, yes. At every opportunity. Being a portly child is a grievous sin.”

“No it’s not, Jane.” His voice was low. He met her gaze.

She glanced away and laughed a shaky laugh. “Tell that to those children. I suppose they’re all hideous adults now. I see some of them from time to time and I want to hide from them.”