Page 13 of A Convenient Fiction

But no more. Not if his plans for Miss Talbot came to fruition.

He was done with cards. Done with a life of rootless wandering. At long last, it was time to settle down. He couldn’t permit himself to be distracted.

And Miss Hayes was distracting.

So much so that, in the seconds before he’d taken his leave of her at the pond, he’d felt the unholy urge to take her in his arms and kiss her. An emotional aftereffect of diving into the pond, no doubt. A brief desire for warmth. For human connection.

Fortunately, good sense had prevailed.

If there was any warmth to be enjoyed, he must find it with Henrietta Talbot. And he would. On that he was determined.

“Not until today,” Miss Hayes said. “When you attempted to rescue me.”

He cast her a humorless glance. “Attempted being the operative word.”

“I told you I was in no danger. And even if I had been—” She gave a dismissive shrug. “I can take care of myself.”

“So I observed.” From the little he’d seen of her thus far, Miss Hayes seemed a capable sort of female. One who might well disrupt his plans if given half the chance. “Does Miss Talbot often employ you as her chaperone?”

She looked up at him, frowning. “Why do you ask?”

Before Alex could form an answer, Miss Talbot called to them over her shoulder. “Don’t dawdle! My wishing bridge is just up ahead.”

George flashed him an apologetic glance. He and Miss Talbot had outpaced Alex and Miss Hayes by several yards. A few yards more and they would leave the canopy of branches behind and step out into the sunlight.

“We’re right behind you!” Miss Hayes called back. As the others continued ahead, she lowered her voice. “Squire Talbot is complacent about many things, but his daughter’s reputation isn’t one of them.”

Alex settled his hat back on his head. “Why is it that I get the distinct impression that you’re warning me off?”

“Perhaps I am.”

The sun filtered through the leaves, hotter and brighter, as the branches opened once more to the blue summer sky. Ahead of them, a small wooden bridge crossed a man-made waterway, its shallow bed littered with smooth river stones and the odd glint of coins.

The wishing bridge, as Miss Talbot had described it during tea. Her wishing bridge.

Alex had thought it childish then, and even more so now. He preferred the darkness of the woods to the unforgiving light of day. And as for wishes—

Well.

They’d never done him much good, had they?

Miss Hayes looked up at him from beneath the brim of her straw hat. “You’re a stranger here, Mr. Archer. Surely you didn’t expect to be left alone with Miss Talbot unsupervised?”

He had, actually. George had promised him unfettered access. It was one of the benefits of Miss Talbot being his childhood friend. There would be no chaperones. No strictly surveilled visits. “I understood the rules to be more lenient in the country.”

“As compared to where?”

“London, during the season.”

“I can’t speak to that,” she said. “I’ve never had a season. But I can assure you, sir, in Lower Hawley, a lady of Miss Talbot’s standing is never left unprotected. She may not have a mother, or a female relation in residence at the Park, but there are plenty of others who keep a watchful eye.”

“Such as yourself.”

Her chin lifted a fraction. “Such as myself.”

Alex was torn between warring feelings of admiration and annoyance. Miss Hayes was throwing down the gauntlet. And not to protect her own honor, but to protect that of her friend. A friend who had treated her with grating condescension since the moment of her arrival. A friend who hadn’t even bothered to send a proper carriage to collect her.

“Ah. I see,” he said. “You’ve appointed yourself her guardian as well as her chaperone.”