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A woman in a green traveling dress turned to face him.

She was beautiful—there was no denying that, nor that there was something pleasant about her expression as she met his eye. Blonde ringlets framed her face as she offered a warm smile.

“Allow me to introduce you,” Mother said with excessive fanfare, “to Miss Orston.”

Archie hid his surprise and bowed. “A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Miss Orston. Mother had feared you would not be able to join us.”

She gave a fine curtsy. “I had given up the prospect myself. However, Mother and Father are on the mend, and the countess insisted upon providing both transportation and chaperonage—an offer I could not possibly refuse.”

Archie’s gaze flicked to Mother, who avoided his eye, instead smiling at Miss Orston.

Mother must have grown desperate indeed to have arranged this.

“Your bedchamber is being prepared as we speak,” she said.

“Is it?” Archie asked curiously. “And which bedchamber shall it be?”

“The Lion Room.” That was the one she had tried to force him into. She focused on Miss Orston again. “One of our finest, of course.”

“I admit to feeling a bit like an intruder,” Miss Orston said. “No doubt the guests have all come to know one another. I am but a stranger. An interloper.”

“Oh, do not be silly, Miss Orston!” Mother said. “Everyone will be exultant over your arrival. And of course, Lord Dalmeer will ensure you are never left without a friend.”

Archie was about to contest this volunteering of his company, but Miss Orston spoke. “I could never inconvenience the earl in such a way.”

Archie had no choice but to reassure her. “It would be no inconvenience at all.”

“You see?” Mother said. “I imagine your bedchamber is nearly ready now, so Lord Dalmeer will show you the way. I am needed in the drawing room. Do join us at your leisure.”

Archie gritted his teeth, but the only indication he gave of his annoyance was to shoot Mother a look that promised discussion later.

She avoided his gaze again and, with one more expression of pleasure at Miss Orston’s arrival, swept off toward the drawing room.

Archie led Miss Orston up the stairs, making polite conversation about her journey.

She was an easy conversational companion, thankfully, so the walk was made painlessly enough. Apparently, the carriage Mother had sent had been two miles from Bellthorne when the storm had begun to blow, making for a frightening end to the journey.

When Archie asked if Miss Orston needed anything else, she was quick to refuse the offer and assure him she would have her maid ask the way to the drawing room when the time came.

No doubt Archie should have given her a tour or offered his own services, but he was too eager to find Miss Prescott. He took the route back to his bedchamber at a quick pace, running a hand through his hair and cursing his recklessness.

What had he been thinking, kissing Miss Prescott like that?

No. That was a stupid question. He knew exactly what he had been thinking: that he was halfway in love with her and had been wanting nothing more than to kiss her for some time.

But that did not mean he had done well.

He had put her reputation in peril yet again, and they had been seen.

He clenched his eyes shut and knocked on Miss Prescott’s door.

There was no answer, and he heard no sounds from within. She and her brother must have joined the other guests when they left the conservatory.

He stood at the window in his bedchamber for some time. The flurries from the winter garden had given way to something of a blizzard. The snowflakes were large, and the grounds already covered in a white blanket. He stared at the scene, trying to decide what to do.

He pulled the bell cord and waited until Raine appeared. His valet was under the mistaken impression that his master wished to dress for dinner.

“Not yet,” Archie said. “I need to speak with one of the footmen. I did not recognize him. Tall. Short, brown hair. A bit timid. Ruddy cheeks.”