Page 34 of A Convenient Fiction

Miss Hayes’s eyes found his. “It’s more than a bit of exercise. It’s three hills away. Three steep hills. We’d be well advised to skip it in this weather.”

“A Roman ruin? Nonsense. I’d be glad to have a look at it.” He held out his hand to her. “Shall we?”

Laura walked along at Mr. Archer’s side over the grassy, tree-scattered grounds of Edgington Park. She didn’t know how she’d ended up escorting him to the Roman ruin. She should have made some greater objection. It wouldn’t have taken much. The whole point of her being here was to act as chaperone. In setting off with Mr. Archer, she wasn’t only abdicating her duties to Henrietta and Squire Talbot, she was failing in her duties to her family.

She had to get Henrietta alone so that she could ask her for the money to hire a new solicitor. She’d meant to call on her this morning, but moments before she’d set out, an invitation had arrived from Edgington Park.

“A picnic,” Aunt Charlotte had said in disbelief. “In this heat?”

And it was hot. Dreadfully so. Perspiration dotted Laura’s forehead and pooled in the hollow of her bosom. She was thankful for the broad brim of her straw hat shielding her face. As for the rest of her—a linen day dress wasn’t very cool when combined with stockings, petticoats, corset, and horsehair crinoline.

Mr. Archer couldn’t be feeling much more comfortable. His sack coat was unbuttoned, his cravat loose at his neck.

“You’ll never win Miss Talbot this way,” she said as they crested the final hill.

He shot her a sharp look. “What way?”

“By going off alone with me. You’d have done better to have stayed with her.”

“I did try.”

“Not very hard.”

He shrugged. “She obviously wished to speak with Mr. Wright about something.”

“Scold him, more like.”

A grim smile edged Mr. Archer’s mouth. “I’m certain he deserves it.”

“Probably, but it’s not likely to have much effect. Lectures and scolds have never achieved anything with George, except to hasten his departure from Lower Hawley.”

“The vicar doesn’t strike me as a particularly stern parent.”

“He wields his authority gently, but he does wield it. I suppose that over time it must have begun to pall.”

“Death by a million cuts?”

“Something like that.”

He fell silent a moment. And then: “You and Mr. Wright have a history.” It wasn’t a question.

Laura glanced at him. “Has he said so?”

Mr. Archer met her eyes. “He says that two years ago you slapped his face.”

She inwardly flinched. What had the pair of them been discussing for that to have come up? She shuddered to think. “I’m surprised he admitted it.”

“He was half-seas.”

She huffed a short laugh. “Naturally.”

“Did you?”

“Did I what?”

“Slap him across the face?”

She held Mr. Archer’s gaze. “With all of my strength.”