Page 36 of A Convenient Fiction

“What?” she asked.

But he didn’t answer.

She bit her lip. Despite the intimacy of their previous meetings, he was still practically a stranger. His approval shouldn’t mean anything to her one way or the other. But it did. For whatever reason, it meant a great deal.

“What recourse do you have against your solicitor?” he asked.

Laura exhaled. “Very little, as far as I can tell.”

She refused to mention the possibility of her marriage. It was less than two weeks until her twenty-fifth birthday. So…not even a possibility anymore. Not unless some noble, heroic figure were to gallop up on a white horse and carry her away to Gretna Green.

“The only thing I can think of is for us to hire another solicitor to challenge Mr. Weatherwax’s authority. But—” She blushed. “We can’t afford it.”

Mr. Archer’s gaze seemed to soften. “You needn’t be embarrassed.”

She turned her face from his. She couldn’t bear to see him looking at her with compassion—or, even worse, pity. “I’m not embarrassed. There are others far worse off than we are. But when I think of Teddy, and all the things we could be doing to help him get well, if only…” A bitter laugh emerged from her throat. “If only. The two most useless words in existence.”

“And two of the most oft uttered.”

She leaned her back against the tree trunk, forcing herself to once again meet his eyes. “I’ve written to a solicitor in London. I hope to hear from him by the end of the week.”

Mr. Archer rested his hand on the trunk. It was inches from her shoulder. “How much do you require to hire him?”

“I don’t know yet. Whatever it is, I intend to ask Miss Talbot to lend it to me.” She gave him a humorless smile. “Perhaps you and I aren’t so very different after all. Each of us hoping to gain a little of her fortune.”

He arched a brow. “Only a little?”

“All of it, in your case. Unless you’ve changed your mind about pursuing her?”

“Is there any reason I should?”

Laura didn’t answer. She could think of several reasons. But she didn’t want to talk to him about Henrietta.

“Miss Hayes,” he said. “If you need money for a solicitor, it would be my privilege to give it to you.”

His offer was as surprising as it was unseemly. Any lady would be properly offended. And Laura was, to a certain degree. At the same time, an unsettling surge of gratitude clogged her throat, just as when he’d offered her coins at the wishing bridge. “I’m obliged to you, but…I could never accept it. You must know that.”

“Why not?”

“For the obvious reasons. Because you’re a single gentleman, and I’m an unmarried lady. It would be scandalous to accept money from you.”

“I don’t see why. No one would ever have to know about it. It could be our secret.”

She frowned at the thought. “And then I’d be indebted to you.”

“A gift, I said. Not a loan.”

“It would still put me under an obligation.”

“Would that be so bad? To be obligated to me in some way?”

“I believe it would. Besides, if the solicitor fails to wrest control from Mr. Weatherwax, I’d have no way to repay you.”

“I think you might,” he said. And then, before she had a moment’s inkling of his intention, he bent his head to hers and kissed her, very gently, on the lips.

A flush of unexpected warmth infused Laura’s veins. For the barest instant, her mouth softened under his. And then—

Common sense returned with all of the force of a steam-powered locomotive.