Page 52 of A Convenient Fiction

“Haven’t you?” Her gaze drifted over his face. He was so ruthlessly handsome. So pleasing in physical form and outward manner. But there was always something else there—something lurking behind his eyes. A secret self, hidden from the world.

It was as if he wore a very lifelike mask.

She’d only seen him without it on two occasions. The first day they’d met when he’d pulled her from Talbot’s Pond. That had been the real Alex Archer. That man, wet and shaken, standing over her on the bank.

And then again, today, when he’d confessed to being an orphan.

There had been a rawness to his countenance. A heartbreaking vulnerability.

“That story you told us at dinner,” she said, “about the sharper you traveled with as a boy. Was there really such a man?”

He fell silent for a long moment. “There was,” he admitted at last. “But his name wasn’t Giraud.”

“It’s all a version of the truth, then. Not the whole truth.”

His mouth quirked. “Does anyone ever tell the whole truth at a dinner party?”

She refused to let him make a joke of it. “What about the things you’ve told Henrietta? You said that your parents died in Paris. That you were raised by your godfather, Baron Reynard. And now you tell me that you’re an orphan. That you have no family at all. I don’t know what to believe.”

“What does it matter? You and I—”

“The truth always matters.” A frustrated huff of breath escaped her lungs. “But as for the rest of it—” She shook her head. “You’re right. It makes no difference. After you marry Henrietta—”

“Henrietta Talbot has nothing to do with it. I haven’t even proposed to her yet. Besides,” he added, “she may well refuse me.”

A flicker of curiosity compelled Laura to meet his eyes. “What would you do if she did? Leave Lower Hawley, I presume.”

“Probably.”

“And then?”

He gave an eloquent grimace. “Find another heiress.”

“And a gentleman like George to provide the introduction?”

“I don’t know about that. Gentlemen like George aren’t easy to come by.” He paused before explaining, “Wastrels who have more than a passing acquaintance with a marriageable young heiress. Meeting George in Marseilles was something of a godsend.”

“I’m sure God had nothing at all to do with it,” Laura said.

When Alex stopped to untie his horse, she continued down the path without him. The hurt and embarrassment she’d felt at his refusal were fading, but her pride still stung.

Her momentary lapse of good sense stung even more.

She had every reason to want to be married before her twenty-fifth birthday, but what in heaven had she been thinking to propose marriage to him? She hardly knew the man! Granted, he was handsome. And he had shown extraordinary kindness to Teddy and Aunt Charlotte. But was that all it took to win her heart? She wouldn’t have thought so.

And yet, she’d asked him to marry her. Stupidly. Impulsively. Without a thought for reality.

The words had just seemed to bubble up from an untapped well of feeling deep inside her. An emotional response to the way he’d described what he hoped to gain from Edgington Park.

As if an estate—a soulless piece of property—could ever provide a true sense of belonging.

Love and acceptance could only come from people. From family. Those nearest and dearest to one’s heart.

But Alex didn’t have anyone near to his heart. He was alone. Entirely alone.

And she’d ached to draw him into her life.

But he didn’t want her, or her family. He’d rather have Henrietta and Edgington Park.