Page 44 of A Convenient Fiction

Mr. Archer finished the remainder of his wine in one swallow. “I was thirteen. Evading the Sûreté was part of the fun.”

“My word,” Aunt Charlotte breathed. “What a thrilling life you’ve led, sir. It’s like something out of one of Mr. Dickens’s novels. I wonder that Baron Reynard permitted you to set out so young.”

“There are boys younger than thirteen in Her Majesty’s Navy,” Mr. Archer said.

“Not gentlemen’s sons, surely.”

Mr. Archer’s smile tightened. “No, indeed, ma’am.”

Teddy chose that moment to discreetly drop a scrap of meat under the table. There was a rustling sound as Magpie retrieved the morsel.

Laura shot her brother a warning glance.

“What?” he mouthed, all innocence.

Mr. Archer gave no indication that he noticed the exchange, or the cat begging under the table, but when Laura next looked in his direction, she could have sworn she saw a flash of laughter in his eyes.

“Your godfather must be a singular fellow,” Aunt Charlotte said. “I daresay he was relieved when you returned home unscathed. A boy of thirteen hasn’t the judgment to be traveling alone on the continent.”

“He wasn’t entirely alone, Aunt,” Teddy said. “He was with a notorious gambler. That’s rather like”—he waved his fork—“traveling about Greece and Italy with one’s classics tutor.”

Aunt Charlotte protested the characterization, but Teddy only laughed.

The clink of cutlery punctuated their conversation. Dinners at Bramble Cottage were informal affairs. The dining room was small, with exposed beams running lengthwise across the low ceiling, and no gas lighting to illuminate their meal. Instead, the room was lit with tallow candles, and in the absence of a footman, the hot serving dishes, and the carafe of watered wine, were left out for them to serve themselves.

Laura refilled Mr. Archer’s glass. “You must know all manner of card tricks.”

“Indeed not. Giraud guarded his secrets with his life. When we parted, I was none the wiser.”

She gave him a doubtful look. “But you do play, don’t you?”

“I do,” he said.

There was a wealth of meaning in those two words. Laura sensed it as surely as if he’d confessed to being a sharper himself.

“Then you must play with us after dinner, sir,” Aunt Charlotte pronounced. “We used to enjoy a lively game of whist before my brother passed away. The four of us played on every occasion I came to visit, didn’t we, Teddy?”

Teddy grimaced. “Aunt Charlotte could never be prevailed upon to play anything else.”

“My husband was a keen whist player,” Aunt Charlotte said. “God rest his soul. We often had card parties at our little house in Leicester.” She cut off a slice of her mutton. “He’d been gone less than a year when the wire came from Mrs. Crabtree telling me of the fever. By the time I arrived in Surrey, my poor brother was gone, and Teddy and Laura were as near to death as they could be.”

Teddy speared a piece of potato on his fork. “Aunt Charlotte stayed on to nurse us. She’s been here ever since.”

“Oh, we played a great many card games while you recovered, didn’t we, Teddy? We’ll see how much you remember of what I taught you.”

Laura eyed her aunt with concern. Her cheeks were flushed, just as they’d been at church. “You mustn’t overtax yourself.”

“There’s no question of that my dear. Not now I’ve had my tonic and a little rest.”

“Even so,” Laura said, “it’s better to err on the safe side, don’t you agree? We don’t want to end the evening by summoning Dr. Taylor.” She paused, adding, “And we mustn’t monopolize Mr. Archer. He’s a guest at the vicarage. They’ll be expecting him back by now.”

Mr. Archer didn’t dispute the fact. “Perhaps another time?”

Aunt Charlotte heaved a sigh. “Indeed.”

“You will come back, won’t you?” Teddy asked.

“I will,” Mr. Archer promised. “You have my word on it.”