Page 2 of An Earl for the Archeress

“The contestant must register. Tell your brother to come in person and declare himself. Otherwise, leave. Men are conducting business here.”

She heard the gossiping of a huddle of women nearing the tent. They bustled through the flap, silencing when they saw her. Mariel turned to see that they were scantily-clad prostitutes. She turned slowly back to face the men and resisted the urge to roll her eyes. It had always been her younger sister’s complaint that she rolled them overmuch, thus inviting their father’s wrath to descend upon her.

“Oh yes, gentle lords. Conducting business indeed. Is that what we call swiving now?”

A few of the men appeared to appreciate her sense of humor and chuckled.

“Woman, you test my patience.” The fat man growled.

“But my brother deserves to be entered.”

“I told you. He must come in person. No other negotiations!”

“But―”

“Let her register him,” the hazel-eyed man with the handsome codpiece spoke, cutting off her complaint.

She looked back at him and their eyes connected. His gaze glittered with amusement even though his face was impassive.

“I beg your pardon, sire,” said his man.

“I said, let her register him. If anything, this should make for a good mystery.”

“Your father would have tossed her out,” the man said.

“Or tossed her in his bed,” muttered the one with the scarlet cloak as he took another drink.

“My dear man, Wesley. My father is dead. You should need no other reminder than that.” The hazel-eyed man’s words remained good-natured, but Mariel heard the threat clearly. “Miss.” He turned to her. “See that Elmer arrives promptly after the nooning meal to the champ de tir.”

Mariel forced a polite nod and attempted to smile again, but she knew it looked strained at best. “Thank you, my lord. As I was asking, is it two shillings?”

The stodgy man keeping the ledgers folded his arms with indignation. “Three.”

“But I have it on account from the other contestants that the fee is only two.”

“Those archers registered themselves in person. Elmer did not. Therefore, it’s three shillings for being a coward. Take it or leave it.”

She scrutinized the older man’s face. Anger boiled in her chest as the other men watched, smirked, and shared superior looks with one another. All except the man with hazel eyes and wavy brown hair hanging to his chin in roguish disarray. He was studying her, and she couldn’t help but think he could read her indecision about parting with her coin. That, and he kept looking at her hands. Did he suspect?

She pondered him, feeling the urge to work the ends of her ribbon tied about her wrist with nervous fingertips. On an exhale, she opened her purse strings and pulled out the last three shillings to her name. “Very well. If I must. Though I would like it noted that your tactic is unfair.”

“Say what you like, girl, as long as you remove yourself first.”

That is it. She fumed. With her cheeks blooming heat and a scowl springing to life, she slapped the three coins onto the table. Without asking, she shifted his ledger to her and dipped the quill in the ink to scrawl the name Elmer Crawford.

“Chivalry is apparently dead, old man, and you are nothing but a highway robber,” she snapped, and whirled around to shove her way through the prostitutes blocking the exit. “There! I am removed!”

…

“Crazed wench,” said the bookkeeper, shaking his head. “I bet she’s death to live with, Lord Huntington.”

“Quite the saucy one,” said the man with the scarlet cloak. “Subduing her abed would be an entertaining challenge.”

“A job you are willing to burden yourself with, no doubt,” jested one of the other men. “If not for her forked tongue, she was quite lovely. Lower ranking, if her gown is any indication. Perhaps a barony. Perchance that means she can be trifled with.”

Lord Huntington walked toward the tent flap and pulled it back, watching the woman in the velvet and beaded coif march away, then glanced at his cousin in the scarlet-trimmed cloak who understood all too well the smile tugging up the corner of his mouth. The girl had been pretty, trimly shaped, unlike the voluptuous whores now making eyes at him, though her breasts were of a womanly size, soft and lush. He would have liked to have seen her hair, too, hidden as it was.

“A mystery indeed,” he said under his breath, then passed his goblet to the nearest set of hands. “Well, men. I make it a point to know all the participants in a contest. I should like to meet this Elmer.” He let the tent flap fall shut behind him and strode after her.