The part where your sister eloped with a knave to whom you’d previously been betrothed? The part where you disguised yourself—poorly—as a boy and took flight after them? Or perhaps the part where youshotme?
He didn’t articulate any of that, though. Instead, he said, “You weren’t surprised to see me at the inn.” The fact of which had just occurred to him because he remembered that she’d called him “Arch” when he’d burst into her room.
“I suppose I wasn’t. That’s a bit odd, isn’t it? But on the other hand, perhaps not. You always seemed to be there when I needed you.” She huffed a resigned sigh. “I suppose I shall have to tell you everything from the beginning, but I’d rather wait for Olive to awaken, becauseIdon’t know the whole story. Perhaps between the three of us, we can put the pieces together.”
Fair enough. “And I’d prefer to wait for Marsden and Featherfinch if it’s all the same to you. They’re my closest companions, they were there yesterday, and they can be trusted absolutely. Ifthere’s anything more to be done to secure a good outcome from this near disaster, they can be of use. Still, if you’d prefer not to involve them any further, I will of course keep your confidence.”
“I am quite willing, if not pleased, to recount the entire unfortunate saga for the lot of you. So let’s wait for them, and for Olive.” He was about to agree when she added, “However, there are a few things we can and should discuss now, the first being that, as I said, what you witnessed from me yesterday was not a swoon despite how it may have looked. I had barely eaten for days, and I hadn’t slept at all. Itwasn’ta swoon.”
“Noted.” He wasn’t sure the distinction mattered—what was a swoon but a loss of consciousness?—but it seemed important to her to make one. He refrained from upbraiding her on the substance of her assertion—the fact that she hadn’t eaten or slept for days—reasoning that he would save that for the larger conclave. But honestly, if one was going to make an impulsive, hazardous journey of the sort she’d undertaken, the least one could do was provision oneself sufficiently.
She looked surprised by his lack of ire, and it took her a moment to begin speaking again. “Secondly, I would like it stated for the record that I have no plans to marry. I am opposed, in the strongest possible terms, to the very concept. This whole mess with Mr. Bull resulted from an appalling lack of judgment, but I am returned to my senses. While I appreciate your loyalty to my family, I’m sure you are relieved by the fact that it hasn’t resulted in an imperative to wed either Olive or me. Regardless of whatever my father has said on the matter, after three Seasons to acquaint myself with the . . . selection, I shan’t be marrying anyone—not even to avoid ruination. I thought I ought to make that clear.”
Theselection. Archie stifled a chuckle. He was tempted to commiserate, to say that he understood what it was like to have an overbearing father who thought he knew best, but he was still peeved at her, so he settled once again for saying, “Noted.” Again, she looked surprised that he wasn’t going to fight her. “Is that all?”
“No. There’s one more thing. I should like to stay here for the rest of your planned sojourn. With Olive, of course. I should prefer that we not go back to London at this time.”
“Yes, fine.”
“Fine?” Surprise transmuted into astonishment. Her eyes went so wide her eyebrows nearly disappeared into the unkempt hair slanted across her forehead.
“We are already late arriving because we detoured to go after you,” he explained. “We’ve only ten days left of our holiday. If I took you back to London at a more humane pace than either of us took to get here, several more days would pass. There would then be no point in making my way back here.”
And now that he was here, after the pair of false starts, he couldn’t bear the idea of giving up his holiday. The boys had been right, as had Miss Brown. Archieneededthis break.
“I shall write to your father straight away.” Well, he would dictate a letter and Effie would write it. “I will tell him all is well and that I will deliver you and your sister home at the end of my holiday. Surely there can be no objection? He did trust me enough to send me after you.” And more to the point, Sir Albert was many hundreds of miles away, so even if he did object, there wasn’t much the old man could do about it.
“Mind you,” Archie added, “Iwouldhave taken you back to Town if I’d had to, but it seems clear that no one in this odd house is in any position to harm your reputations or standings in society.” Effie had had a chat with Mrs. MacPuddle, and besides her and the elderly man who’d seen to their horses last night, the only other people in residence were a kitchen maid, a housemaid, and the housemaid’s four-year-old daughter. The housemaid was Mrs. MacPuddle’s granddaughter, a girl of about twenty who’d been round to light the fires that morning. There’d been no mention of a husband to Mrs. MacPuddle’s granddaughter. Archie didn’t give a fig about any of it, except to the extent that perhaps people in glass houses, et cetera, et cetera. As a result, he felt quite confident that there was no harm—of either the literal or reputational variety—waiting to befall anyone at Quintrell Castle. Assuming, that was, that they could shield themselves from falling roof tiles and protect against invading armies disguised as trees. “So,” he said in conclusion, “I’d just as soon not have my holiday ruined if it’s all the same to you.”
Clementine opened her mouth, closed it, and opened it again. Along with her still-wide eyes, it brought to mind a haddock. He tried not to laugh. Clementine Morgan loved all the creatures of field and stream, but he suspected even she would not take kindly to being compared to a fish so ill-featured as a haddock. He told himself to enjoy this moment of having struck Clementine dumb. It was the first time he could remember it happening, and it was entirely possible it would be the last.
“That would be quite satisfactory,” she said once she’d regained the power of speech. “Father will not object. He knows you are like a brother to Olive and me.”
“However, there is one condition: You and your sister will make yourselves scarce. Not scarce enough to get into any trouble, mind you, but scarce.” As glad as he was that Clementine was safe, and as much as he vowed to renew his friendship with the Morgan family, that was not what this trip was about. “Do I make myself clear?”
“Quite.”
“This trip is a sacred masculine tradition.”
“I understand.”
“I had a walk about the house this morning, mostly to make sure it is, in fact, structurally sound, but I observed that it is sizable enough that we can easily stay out of each other’s way.”
“Yes.”
“I cannot stress this point firmly enough. I don’t want you—”
“Arch!”
“What?”
“I am agreeing with you. I have done nothing but agree with you since you started talking! You won’t even know Olive and I are here. Ipromise.”
Right. Well, then. He picked up his teacup. “Don’t call me Arch.”
* * *
After her petition to Archie had been so unexpectedly successful, Clementine’s next order of business was to pay a visit to Olive’s bedchamber. She found her sister, who had never been an early riser, still abed, snoring lightly as if she hadn’t a care in the world. Clementine marched in, slammed the door behind her, and threw open the curtains to the misty morning.
