Page 14 of A Convenient Fiction

“Nothing of the sort. I don’t like to see any lady taken advantage of by a—”

“By a what?” He looked down at her, a flare of anger taking him unaware.

She gazed steadily back at him. “You know what you are better than I do, Mr. Archer.”

His chest tightened. He had the sudden sense that she could see straight through his fine clothes—straight through his gentlemanly accents and bearing—to the yawning hole of emptiness that lay beneath. For an instant, he felt stripped bare. Utterly defenseless. Just as he had as a boy.

It wasn’t a pleasant sensation.

“Indeed, Miss Hayes. And knowing that, may I tender you a piece of advice?”

Her brows lifted in question.

“Stay out of my way, ma’am,” he said.

Her smoke-blue eyes kindled at his words. “Or what, sir?”

He bent his head close to hers, sinking his voice to a mocking undertone. “Or the next time I encounter you, alone in a secluded wood, I won’t treat you with as much gentlemanly forbearance as I exercised this morning.”

Laura stood beside Henrietta on the wishing bridge, her arms folded on the wooden rail. She was glad to rejoin the others. She hadn’t the patience for any more of Mr. Archer’s warnings. Gentlemanly forbearance, indeed. She supposed he was threatening to kiss her, or some such nonsense.

Then again, who could say?

There was a perpetual edge of sardonic humor to his voice. As if he were teasing her. Laughing at her.

Or at himself.

It made his sincerity difficult to gauge.

And as for kissing her…

Well. She was no green girl to be provoked thus by a man. Especially one who couldn’t take the matter seriously. As if the very idea of kissing her was nothing more than a joke. An inconsequential event he could reference as casually as he might comment on the weather.

There was nothing casual about kissing. Not to her.

She knew that because she’d been kissed before. Only once, it was true, but that had been quite enough. The experience had been a thoroughly unpleasant one. Devastating, really. For a time, she’d believed it was her fault. That she’d done something—said something—to engender such clumsy handling. Such casual mistreatment.

“But I thought—” George had stammered, seconds after she’d slapped his face. “Haven’t you always wanted me?”

In the intervening years, Laura had come to view the incident as a valuable lesson. To some gentlemen, it wasn’t the content of a lady’s character that mattered, but only the content of her bank account. If her fortune exceeded a certain amount, she was worthy of respect—and of an offer of marriage. If not…

She could expect to receive another sort of offer.

Henrietta leaned over the rail, her voluminous sleeves pillowing against Laura’s. “We have a tradition at Edgington Park,” she was explaining to Mr. Archer. “Every year, when we celebrate my birthday, all the guests at my party come to this exact spot and make a wish. I insist upon it.”

Mr. Archer stood on Henrietta’s opposite side. On arriving at the bridge, he’d smoothly taken George’s place, leaving George to stand next to Laura. “Do these wishes come true?”

Henrietta tittered. “What a question! No one knows except the person making them. Your wish is meant to be a secret.”

George stared down into the rippling water. “There must be fifty pounds or more down there.”

“Probably,” Henrietta said with the same careless laugh.

Laura followed George’s gaze to the glinting coins below. Fifty pounds would be a blessing to the Hayes family at the moment. A blessing to any poor family, really.

“Are these wishes confined to your birthday, Miss Talbot?” Mr. Archer asked.

“Lord, no. You may make a wish today, if you like. Providing you have brought a coin.” Henrietta looked to Laura, a shadow of compassion moving over her face. “Will you make a wish, Laura?”