Alex had thought it childish then, and even more so now. He preferred the darkness of the woods to the unforgiving light of day. And as for wishes—

Well.

They’d never done him much good, had they?

Miss Hayes looked up at him from beneath the brim of her straw hat. “You’re a stranger here, Mr. Archer. Surely you didn’t expect to be left alone with Miss Talbot unsupervised?”

He had, actually. George had promised him unfettered access. It was one of the benefits of Miss Talbot being his childhood friend. There would be no chaperones. No strictly surveilled visits. “I understood the rules to be more lenient in the country.”

“As compared to where?”

“London, during the season.”

“I can’t speak to that,” she said. “I’ve never had a season. But I can assure you, sir, in Lower Hawley, a lady of Miss Talbot’s standing is never left unprotected. She may not have a mother, or a female relation in residence at the Park, but there are plenty of others who keep a watchful eye.”

“Such as yourself.”

Her chin lifted a fraction. “Such as myself.”

Alex was torn between warring feelings of admiration and annoyance. Miss Hayes was throwing down the gauntlet. And not to protect her own honor, but to protect that of her friend. A friend who had treated her with grating condescension since the moment of her arrival. A friend who hadn’t even bothered to send a proper carriage to collect her.

“Ah. I see,” he said. “You’ve appointed yourself her guardian as well as her chaperone.”

“Nothing of the sort. I don’t like to see any lady taken advantage of by a—”

“By a what?” He looked down at her, a flare of anger taking him unaware.

She gazed steadily back at him. “You know what you are better than I do, Mr. Archer.”

His chest tightened. He had the sudden sense that she could see straight through his fine clothes—straight through his gentlemanly accents and bearing—to the yawning hole of emptiness that lay beneath. For an instant, he felt stripped bare. Utterly defenseless. Just as he had as a boy.

It wasn’t a pleasant sensation.

“Indeed, Miss Hayes. And knowing that, may I tender you a piece of advice?”

Her brows lifted in question.

“Stay out of my way, ma’am,” he said.

Her smoke-blue eyes kindled at his words. “Or what, sir?”

He bent his head close to hers, sinking his voice to a mocking undertone. “Or the next time I encounter you, alone in a secluded wood, I won’t treat you with as much gentlemanly forbearance as I exercised this morning.”

Chapter 4