He schooled his features into a mask of polite concern. “Why don’t you tell us about it?”
“Yes, do tell us, Hen.” George went to sit beside her. “You can tell Laura later. She won’t mind if we hear it first.”
“Oh, very well.” Henrietta gave a dramatic sniffle. “I’ve arranged for all of us to go to Margate. Papa is coming, too, and I’m to invite Laura’s aunt and her brother. I’ve already booked rooms at the York Hotel.”
“Margate?” George looked dubious. “By rail?”
“We’ll leave Friday morning and have a whole two days ahead of us at the seaside. Papa says we must return on Sunday. That’s when all the rabble come down from London on their weekly excursions. But still, we shall have two nights there in a beach hotel, and there will be music and dancing and all manner of fun.” She turned to Alex. “Doesn’t it sound a treat? The weather is perfect for bathing.”
“It sounds…” Alex was at a loss. He had no desire to go to Margate. The sea brought nothing but bad memories.
Then again, Laura would likely be overjoyed at the news. He was sure he could muster some degree of enthusiasm for her sake. Margate was, after all, a long way from the beaches of North Devon.
“It sounds splendid,” George finished for him. “Especially in this heat. Don’t you agree, Archer?”
“Wholeheartedly,” Alex said.
Henrietta brightened. “I knew you would both approve.”
For the better part of the next hour, she chattered happily about their impending excursion as she served them tea and chocolate-covered biscuits. There was little else for them to do in Laura’s absence, and Henrietta seemed reluctant to enlist anyone else as her chaperone.
When at last Alex and George rode away from Edgington Park, it was with the promise to return later that afternoon. It was already half past eleven, the sun blazing in the sky.
“Lord, but I need a drink,” George muttered. “I’ve had enough tea and lemonade this past week to float a steamer ship.”
“I’d have thought you’d drunk your fill last night.”
“At the Park? God, no. Henrietta’s taken to being as ruthless as the village barman. She cut me off after the first glass. Probably for the best, now I think of it. I had to keep all my wits about me making excuses for why you weren’t available to join us.”
Alex sighed. This whole affair was becoming a tedious ordeal. “I trust she believed them.”
“Who knows? Can’t say it’ll make much difference in the end. It’s only a matter of time before she discovers you were dining with Laura Hayes—and then the claws will come out.” George chuckled. “You should have seen the look on her face when she learned that you drove Laura and her aunt home after church.”
“On your father’s direction.”
“So I told her. And that Mrs. Bainbridge was ill. But Henrietta isn’t the most reasonable female when she’s in a temper.”
A spark of anger threatened to ignite Alex’s own temper. He compressed his lips into a hard line. “You never mentioned any flaws in her temperament when we were in France.”
“I don’t consider jealousy a flaw. Not of a permanent kind. A sensible husband could easily break her of the habit.” George shot him a cautious look. “I say, you do still want all of this, don’t you? You haven’t changed your mind about our agreement?”
“I haven’t changed my mind.”
“Good. Because I’ve been talking you up a storm. If she doesn’t think you a veritable Lancelot by the time you propose, it won’t be my fault.”
Alex looked ahead of them down the road. The edge of Talbot’s Wood was just visible in the distance. He felt the same damnable urge—the same magnetic pull—that had drawn him to Laura Hayes the previous evening. That same unfathomable longing that had prompted him to stay for dinner. To kiss her hand.
It was becoming harder and harder to resist it. To turn his back on the attraction he had for her.
At the moment, it was downright impossible.
“Go back to the vicarage,” he said. “I’ll join you there later.”
“Where are you off to?” George asked.
“A brief errand.” Alex didn’t linger to explain. He kicked his horse into a canter, leaving George far behind him.
It was only a short distance to Talbot’s Wood. He slowed his horse to a walk as he rode into them, down a narrow tree-lined dirt path, going as far as he could on horseback before he was obliged to dismount. He led his horse the rest of the way, tying him loosely to a tree not far from the pond.
The green-hued water glistened in the sunlight, the surface littered with flower petals and fallen leaves.
Laura wasn’t in the water, but it didn’t take long to find her.
She was asleep on a blanket beneath the same oak tree where he’d sat last week. Her ebony hair was unbound, half-dried from the sun, and her muslin dress was damp about the bodice and skirts. One arm was draped across her midsection, the other beside her face—a face that looked younger, and far more vulnerable, in sleep than it did during her waking hours.
Alex’s heart clenched as he looked at her.
He wasn’t a romantic. It nevertheless struck him that she rather resembled an enchanted princess from one of the fairy stories of his youth. The sort of beautiful maiden who could only be awakened by true love’s kiss.
It was sentimental rubbish.
He wasn’t a boy any longer. He was three and thirty. And Laura Hayes was no enchanted princess. She was all too real.
Breathtakingly real.
He sank down beside her. It would be easy to steal a kiss. God knew he wanted to. But there were limits, even to his villainy. “Laura,” he said gently. “Wake up.”
Her lashes fluttered.
“Wake up,” he said again.
“Mmm.” She turned her head, her eyes opening slowly. “What time is it?”
“Almost noon.”
Her smoke-blue gaze came to rest on his face with uncharacteristic languor. His stomach tightened. She was still half asleep.
Until, suddenly, she wasn’t.
Her gaze sharpened, and all at once, she struggled to a sitting position. “What are you doing here?”
“I came to find you.”
“How did you know—?”
“Common sense. Henrietta summoned you, and when you didn’t respond…” He shrugged. “I assumed you’d be here. Either that or gone to London to speak with that new solicitor of yours.”
“He hasn’t replied to my letter yet.”
“No?”
“I’m going to write him again when I get home.” She pushed her hair back from her face. “I thought Henrietta wouldn’t expect me until this afternoon. Was she very upset?”
“In a bit of a state. She’s made plans for an outing and was anxious to tell you about it.”
“What sort of an outing?”
Alex saw no reason to keep it secret. “A trip to Margate.”
Laura’s eyes widened. She sat up straighter, fully awake now. “The seaside? Are you joking?”
“It’s no joke. She’s planned two days at the beach. And she means to invite your brother and aunt, as well. You’ll be guests of her and her father at the York Hotel.”
“When?”
“They leave on Friday and return on Sunday.”
“This Friday? My goodness.”
“Will you go?”
Laura’s expression turned wistful. “I’d like to. So very much. Though I shall have to speak with my aunt—and with Teddy. The beach won’t be compatible with his chair.”
“Let me worry about your brother.”
She looked at him with a start. “You’re going, too?”
“I think I must.”
“Because of Henrietta.” She studied his face. “But you don’t even li
ke the sea.”
“No, indeed. But there’s nothing to say I must go into the water.”
“You’ll be there, around it. Will that not be upsetting to you?”
“The mere sight of it? I’ve seen the sea before, you know. Crossed it during the journey from France, rowed over it a time or two as well. As long as I’m not obliged to go into it, I’ll be fine.”
“I wonder…” She reached into her basket, withdrawing her tortoiseshell comb and a handful of hairpins. “Does the friend you rescued as a boy have the same fear of the sea that you do?”
Alex had a sudden image of Neville Cross. He’d been a handsome, fair-haired lad. Always kind, despite the cruelty all around him. His head had been bleeding when Alex pulled him from the water. He’d been unconscious. Had looked as if he were dead.
“Do something!” Alex had cried, coughing and sputtering as he collapsed on the beach. “He’s still alive!”
Tom Finchley had stood there, white-faced. So had Justin Thornhill, his clothing soaked through. It was Justin who’d gone in after Neville first. Always the hero. Always doing the exact right thing.
It had made no difference in the end.
“I don’t know,” Alex said. “I haven’t seen him in twenty years or more.”
Laura gave her hair a cursory comb before twisting it into a thick roll at her nape and securing it with several pins. It was the practiced, no-nonsense action of a lady who was used to looking after herself. “Why not?”
Another shrug. “One grows up.”
She flashed him one of her all-too-perceptive looks as she anchored the final pin into her hair.
“And I’m not afraid of the sea,” he added. “I merely prefer to stay out of it.”
“There’s nothing wrong with being afraid.”
He gave her a wry smile. “Awake less than ten minutes and you already presume to lecture me?”
“I’m not lecturing you. If I was, it certainly wouldn’t be on the topic of sea bathing.”
His brows lifted in enquiry.
A faint flush of color rose in Laura’s cheeks. “Why do you wish to marry Henrietta? Is it purely because of her fortune?”
The question took him off his guard. He endeavored not to show it. “Do you think her entirely devoid of charm?”
“No. I think she’s beautiful. Probably the most beautiful lady in Surrey.”
He almost laughed. She could say that, when she was sitting in front of him, looking like an enchanted princess come to life? His water nymph. The lady who haunted his dreams—who was, even now, threatening to upend all of his carefully laid plans. “Not the most beautiful, surely.”
She didn’t react to the compliment. No doubt she thought it was as false as all the rest of him. “I also know her to be generous,” she said. “And quite accomplished. Far more so than I am.”
“In other words, she can play and sing and embroider the requisite number of seat cushions.”
“Don’t mock.”
“I’m not mocking. Only acknowledging that I recognize her personal attributes—”
“Her many personal attributes.”
“Recognize them and discount them. For my purposes, they mean nothing.” He hesitated before admitting, “It’s the estate I’m after.”
“Edgington Park?” Laura’s brow furrowed. “It is grand, but nothing very special, I shouldn’t think. Does it hold a particular attraction for you?”
“It’s not the park itself—not the architecture of the house, nor the design of the gardens. It’s the property. The land.”
“The farm, do you mean? The crops, and the livestock?”
“Not only that. It’s the history of the place. The way it links people together. Anchors them to something tangible and real.”
She paused, seeming to consider. “I expect some people do feel anchored to the land. Especially if it’s been passed down from one generation to the next—and if it forms the bulk of their livelihood.”
“It’s not the wealth it generates. Not entirely. It’s something more than that.” He tried to explain, however poorly. “Land is the only thing that gives a man a sense of connection. Of meaning. Unless he has it, he never truly belongs anywhere.”
“Is that what you’re searching for? A sense of belonging?”
A lump formed in his throat. She made it sound so simple. As if he might have found it anywhere. “I suppose I am.”
Something in her expression softened. “You don’t want land, Alex. What you’re looking for is a family.”
Her words pierced him to his soul. He recoiled when she uttered them, his gaze jerking away from hers. He felt, for one stark instant, as if she’d knocked the breath out of him. As if she’d opened all of the shades in a darkened room, exposing him to the brutal light of day.
“Don’t you have a family?” she asked. “I know your parents died of the cholera—”
“They didn’t die,” he said.
Only three short words, but he felt the power of them as surely as he’d felt the power of hers. It was a mistake. He knew it as soon as he confessed it. An error in judgment that could put all of his plans at risk.
She fell quiet for the space of a heartbeat. “Didn’t they?”
He turned back to her, expecting he knew not what. But there was no censure in Laura’s eyes. No anger that he’d lied to her, and to her family. There was only compassion. Concern. A desire to help. To understand.
And he knew then that she cared for him. Not the fiction he’d created, but him. The man.
The realization struck his resolve a mortal blow.
Just like that, the carefully constructed façade he’d hidden behind since arriving in Lower Hawley cracked and splintered, shattering at his feet like so much broken glass. In that brief moment, there was nothing between them. No more lies. No more artifice. There was only him. Alex Archer. Vulnerable, exposed.
“I never had a mother. I never had a father, either. I never had any relations—not even a godfather.” His chest constricted with long-suppressed bitterness and regret. And shame. So much shame he thought he would choke on it. “I grew up in a parish orphanage. A miserable place, far from here. A place I’ve spent all of my life trying to forget.”
She stared at him, her bosom rising and falling on an uneven breath. The silence stretched taut between them.
And he knew he’d said too much. That he’d confided too much. That he’d probably ruined everything.
“Haven’t you anything to say?” he asked at last. “Anything at all?”
Laura opened her mouth to reply. The words that tumbled out appeared to shock her as much as they did him. “I have a family,” she said. “You should marry me.”
Alex couldn’t have looked any more stunned if Laura had slapped him just as she’d once slapped George Wright. Indeed, he looked more surprised than George had. Surprised, and strangely, uncharacteristically, vulnerable.
“What?” The single word was so soft she barely heard it.
“I have a brother and an aunt. And I have myself.” She felt flushed and breathless. Unable to stop the words from coming. “We’re not a large family. Quite small, really. But we all belong to each other, whatever comes. Wherever we are is our home. That’s what you’re searching for, not land. Not riches.”
His throat convulsed on a swallow. “Laura…”
“If you married me, you would have a family, too. But not wealth and property. Not a grand estate like you’d have if you married Henrietta.”
A fleeting expression of longing shone in his eyes. Bitter longing. He wanted her. She knew it. Why else had he kissed her? Why else did he continue to seek her out? And yet when given the chance to have her—to have her honestly, legally, before the eyes of God and man—he was reluctant. No, not reluctant. Unwilling.
“I can’t marry you,” he
said.
Something inside of her—some small, bright bloom of hope—withered and died. Gone, as if it had never been there at all. In its place, she expected to feel embarrassment. To be ashamed that she’d ever given voice to such a foolish notion. But it wasn’t her pride that hurt at his refusal.
At least, not only her pride.
She affected a look of unconcern. “Of course you can’t. I have no fortune.”
“No, you don’t. But…it’s not just a matter of money.” He rubbed his hand over the back of his neck. “There’s no place in my life for unfettered emotion. If I care about anyone too deeply, things always go wrong. I begin to make mistakes. What I need is predictability. Quiet, dispassionate routine.” His gaze cut to hers. “Marrying you would be like marrying the storm. And I’ve had enough of the storm in my life.”
“You’re looking for calmer seas.”
“I’d as soon have no sea at all.”
“Pity.” Laura stood and dusted off her skirts. They were still damp, half-sticking to her bare legs. “I’d taken you for a gentleman with more mettle.”
He rose to his feet. The sunlight cast a shadow over his face. “A wise man knows his limitations.”
“I don’t think you’re wise. I think you’re a coward.”
His jaw hardened. “Laura—”
“You believe you can have a full life without feeling anything? As if you’re a spectator, standing by the side of the road, watching the parade go by? Never risking anything—never getting hurt?” She made a scoffing sound. “That’s not living.”
“I’m afraid I’ve hurt you.”
“You couldn’t. You don’t have the power.”
“I believe I do.” A frown marred his brow. “I should never have kissed you.”
She bent to collect her blanket. Her hands were trembling. “What has that to do with anything?”
“It may have given you a false expectation—”
“You must think me a very green girl.” She gave the blanket a brisk shake before thrusting it into her basket. “That wasn’t my first kiss, you know.”
His frown deepened. It was very nearly a scowl. “Nor mine.”
A Convenient Fiction Page 12
