Laura didn’t know why, but she believed him. And she wanted to unburden herself. Needed to most desperately. “I’ve told you about my father’s perfume business.”

His mouth hitched at the corner in that wolfish way of his. “Hayes’s Lavender Water, suitable for mothers and sweethearts alike.”

“Yes, well…since my father’s death, the business—what remains of it—has been under the control of his solicitor.”

“The fellow you visited in London?”

“An odious gentleman who won’t permit us to do as we like with the property that was left to us.” She walked deeper beneath the branches, arms folded at her waist. “It’s meant to come to my brother at his majority, but yesterday…I learned that Mr. Weatherwax is refusing to cede control.”

Mr. Archer followed after her into the deep shadow of the yew tree. He removed his hat. “Can he?”

“He says that my brother is unfit, purely because he’s an invalid. He says that he’ll happily take us to court to prove it. Unless I can find a way to challenge him, my family must resign themselves to living on the quarterly allowance he provides us. It isn’t enough. Not nearly.”

“I suppose it’s out of the question to simply ask the man for more money?”

“There isn’t any more. But there could be. There could be. If only the business were in the hands of someone who wasn’t afraid to take a few risks.”

“Your brother?”

She nearly laughed. “Not my brother. Me.”

“Ah, I see.”

“You don’t.” She could read as much in his face. “You think I’m just a silly impetuous female. But sometimes, Mr. Archer, in life as well as business, we must be bold. We must risk everything to gain even more. And so I would have done if my brother gained control.”

His brows lowered. “I don’t think you’re silly, Miss Hayes.”

“No?”

“I think you’re…”

“What?” she asked.

But he didn’t answer.

She bit her lip. Despite the intimacy of their previous meetings, he was still practically a stranger. His approval shouldn’t mean anything to her one way or the other. But it did. For whatever reason, it meant a great deal.

“What recourse do you have against your solicitor?” he asked.

Laura exhaled. “Very little, as far as I can tell.”

She refused to mention the possibility of her marriage. It was less than two weeks until her twenty-fifth birthday. So…not even a possibility anymore. Not unless some noble, heroic figure were to gallop up on a white horse and carry her away to Gretna Green.

“The only thing I can think of is for us to hire another solicitor to challenge Mr. Weatherwax’s authority. But—” She blushed. “We can’t afford it.”

Mr. Archer’s gaze seemed to soften. “You needn’t be embarrassed.”