Page 26 of A Convenient Fiction

“You did no such—”

“The both of us wet to our skin and you in your knickers. It leaves an impression on a fellow.”

Heat rose in her face. “A gentleman wouldn’t mention such things.”

“But I’m not a gentleman, as you pointed out at Edgington Park.” His tone was dry. “Indeed, I believe you came perilously close to labeling me a fortune hunter.”

“And I have no fortune. So you can have no interest in me, sir.” She rose from her seat, even as the carriage rolled on. “You may set me down here.”

“God’s sake, Laura!” He hauled on the reins. The chestnut gelding came to a stumbling halt, the gig jolting behind it.

Her heart hammered as she moved to jump out. The skirts of her traveling gown wound precariously round her legs. “I’m obliged to you for bringing me this far, but I—”

“What in blazes is the matter with you?” Mr. Archer leapt down from his seat. He was in front of her in an instant, reaching to grasp her round the waist a fraction of a second before she tumbled down in a tangle of skirts. “Are you trying to break your neck?”

She permitted him to assist her down and then backed swiftly out of his arms. Her eyes stung with the threat of tears. “I would prefer to walk the rest of the way. If you would—”

“Laura,” he said again. His voice was husky with concern.

Her temper flared. “And I don’t recall giving you permission to use my Christian name! That’s the second time you’ve—”

“This is the second time I’ve come to your rescue. If that’s not a basis for some familiarity, I don’t know what is.”

“You haven’t rescued me from anything.” The words came out harsher than she’d intended. Tears quickly followed, spilling hot onto her cheeks. She dashed them away. “No one can.” She spun on her heel to leave.

Mr. Archer caught her firmly by the elbow, preventing her escape. He loomed over her. “What is it? What’s happened?”

“I want to be left alone.”

“This isn’t about my teasing you, is it? There’s something else going on.”

“Let go of me,” she said. “Or I shall scream.”

His hand fell from her elbow. “I’m not trying to plague you. But if I’ve upset you—”

“Really, Mr. Archer. Your appearance in Lower Hawley isn’t as earth-shattering as you seem to believe. My present state has nothing at all to do with you. I simply need a moment to compose myself. I’m in no fit state to see my family—and I have no inclination to cross swords with you.” She dropped an abrupt curtsy. “I bid you good day, sir.”

With that, she turned and strode blindly into the woods.

It wasn’t far to Talbot’s Pond. Her secret place. Her sanctuary. At least, it had been until Mr. Archer had unceremoniously shown up there yesterday morning.

But he didn’t matter now.

Nothing mattered except her disastrous meeting with Mr. Weatherwax. She’d had a whole night to reflect on the subject, and she still couldn’t quite believe it. Couldn’t quite accept that all of her careful plans had come to naught.

What was she going to tell Teddy and Aunt Charlotte?

More to the point, what in the world was she going to do?

As she made her way deeper through the trees, her full skirts caught on the leaves and underbrush that surrounded Talbot’s Pond. Once there, she sank down on the grassy banks in a spill of petticoats and wrinkled silk. Tears leaked from her eyes. This time, she didn’t bother to dash them away.

She wasn’t a great one for weeping. It was a pointless exercise. Her emotions were better spent in solving problems and making plans. Easy enough when one had a surfeit of ideas. There was always something else to try. Another method by which to trim the Hayes family’s budget. To keep them all clothed, shod, and fed.

It had occurred to her yesterday, as she’d left Mr. Weatherwax’s offices in London, that she hadn’t adequately prepared for failure. And now, having to face it was a shade more than she could bear.

She covered her face with her hands and wept.

Once started, the tears were impossible to quell. She wept until they’d fully run their course. It might have been a quarter of an hour. Perhaps even longer. She had no sense of time. It had been ages since she’d cried her heart out so thoroughly, scarcely able to draw breath between sobs.