Laura hadn’t brought any money with her to Edgington Park. The only coin she possessed was safely in her reticule at home, waiting to purchase the railway ticket that would take her to London in the morning. She forced a smile. “Not today, Hen. I shall wait for your next birthday.”

“I’ll make a wish.” George thrust his hand into the pocket of his garish plaid trousers and withdrew a halfpenny. “I could do with some luck.”

Henrietta produced a coin of her own from a hidden pocket in the froth of her India muslin skirts. “I’ll make a wish, too.” She looked to Mr. Archer. “Will you, sir?”

“I will.” From his place beside Henrietta, Mr. Archer briefly caught Laura’s eye. “I have an extra shilling, Miss Hayes, if you’d—”

“She can’t make a wish on a borrowed coin,” Henrietta interrupted sharply. “It’s the rule.”

Laura returned Mr. Archer’s glance. “I’m obliged to you for the offer, but Miss Talbot is right.”

And so she was. That didn’t prevent a disconcerting swell of gratitude from building in Laura’s breast. Mr. Archer owed her no such courtesy. They’d been at daggers drawn not five minutes before. He had no reason to be civil to her, let alone solicitous. And yet…

She stole another glance at him from beneath her lashes as he leaned over the rail with Henrietta and George. What a strange gentleman he was! Both hero and villain, by turns.

If the offer of a shilling could be termed heroic.

“Do you have your coins at the ready?” Henrietta asked the two men. “Splendid. Now, all you must do is close your eyes, make a wish, and throw it in.”

“Throw in the coin and then make a wish,” George said. “Isn’t that the way?”

Henrietta shot him a look. “The order doesn’t matter, only the intent.”

While the others made their wishes, Laura wandered down from the bridge to the grass-covered bank beyond. It had been months since she’d last visited Edgington Park. Months since Henrietta had issued an invitation to tea or to dine. Their lives had become too different. As children, it hadn’t mattered as much. Now, however, two weeks shy of her twenty-fifth birthday, Laura felt keenly how little the pair of them had in common.

“You’ve changed,” Henrietta had accused during one of Laura’s last visits. “Sometimes I think I don’t know you at all.”

“Sometimes I don’t know myself,” Laura had replied.

Nowadays, she preferred Talbot’s Pond to the company of her former friend. Any free time she had was spent there. The water was her sanctuary. Her private domain.

Or it had been until Mr. Archer made his appearance.