And what eyes she had. Smoke blue, set under a pair of low, and uncompromisingly straight, ebony brows. He’d noted them when he pulled her from the water. That and…other of her attributes.

She looked down at him, a sparkle of accusation in her glare. “You.”

“The name is Archer,” he said. “And you, I presume, are Miss Hayes.”

“I am.”

He raised his arms to her. “Will you permit me to assist you down, ma’am?”

She hesitated a fraction of a second. “If you please.”

He felt her take an uneven breath as his hands closed around her corseted waist, lifting her from the gig and setting her gently on the ground. She was tall for a lady. A shade over five and a half feet, if he was to venture a guess. Her head came just above his chin. A rarity. He was used to towering over his women.

But Miss Hayes was something different—in height as well as bearing.

She wasn’t beautiful, not in the common way. Certainly not in the peaches-and-cream manner of Miss Talbot. But there was an arresting architecture to Laura Hayes’s face—an austere sort of balance between her high cheekbones, the straight bridge of her nose, and the firm line of her jaw. Only her mouth betrayed a hint of softness. It was wide and kissable.

And it was frowning.

His hands fell from her waist.

The instant he released her, she stepped away from him to smooth her skirts. “Thank you, Mr. Archer.”

“My pleasure, Miss Hayes.”

“Laura!” Miss Talbot moved to join them. “I’m so glad you’ve come. And so grateful your aunt could spare you on my behalf. Can you believe that George has returned to us after all this time? And he’s brought his friend, Mr. Archer.”

The coachman drove off in the gig, leaving the drive empty. Miss Hayes looked across it to where George remained standing, his hands shoved into the pockets of his plaid trousers. “Welcome home, George.”

George inclined his head. His expression was sullen. “Laura.”

Alex’s eyes narrowed. George had said Miss Hayes was a local woman of no account. A dogsbody, he’d called her. If that was true, why were the pair of them on a first-name basis? And why was George finding it so difficult to look at her?

“How is your aunt keeping?” Miss Talbot asked.

“Very well,” Miss Hayes said. “She sends her regards.”

“And your brother? How is his health?” Miss Talbot glanced at Alex. “Miss Hayes’s younger brother is an invalid, sir. We’re lucky he’s still with us.”

“My brother is well,” Miss Hayes said. “We’re all thriving, Hen, truly. There’s no need to fuss.”