George gave a nervous laugh. He was always nervous in Alex’s presence, had been ever since the night they met in Marseilles a year ago, at one of the city’s most notorious gaming clubs. Alex had beaten George at cards rather badly that night, collecting what would be the first of his many markers.

“Why do you continue to play with the boy?” one of the club dealers had asked in a private moment. “You must know he’ll never make good what he owes.”

“He’ll pay,” Alex had vowed. “One way or another.”

It was that very payment which had brought Alex to Surrey.

“Is that old portmanteau all you’ve brought?” George asked. “Haven’t you a trunk? Or a valise?”

Alex followed him into the vicarage. It was a humble dwelling but a clean one, with a freshly swept slate floor and wooden furnishings polished to a high shine. The scent of beeswax and lemon oil lingered in the air. “I left them at the station.”

“You don’t intend to stay?”

“If you can arrange it so. Otherwise…”

“I have arranged it,” George said. “I sent a note round to Edgington Park this morning. Miss Talbot responded an hour ago. You can meet her this afternoon, providing she can procure a chaperone.”

“A chaperone?” Alex met George’s eyes with a flash of irritation. “You never mentioned your visits with Miss Talbot being chaperoned.”

“They haven’t been. But Henrietta and I practically grew up together. You, on the other hand, are a stranger. An unknown quantity, or so her father says. If she’s to go walking with us this afternoon, she must have a chaperone.”

“And who is this chaperone to be? A tale-bearing housemaid? A bulldog of an old maiden aunt? What else haven’t you told me?”

George backed up a step. “I didn’t lie, Archer. I swear to you. Miss Talbot has no female relations. No one who will interfere with your plans. She’s only summoning Miss Hayes. A local woman of no account. She lives not three miles from here, at the edge of Talbot’s Wood. Miss Talbot often relies on her for companionship.”

Alex went still. He was at once assailed by memories of the woman he’d encountered at Talbot’s Pond. The feel of her as he’d pulled her scantily clad body from the water. The look of her as she’d sat so demurely on the bank—like a mermaid combing out her hair. His brows lowered. “This local woman… She wouldn’t happen to be a raven-haired water nymph, would she?”

“What?” George gave a bark of genuine laughter. “Miss Hayes? Hardly. She’s a spinster. A regular dogsbody. She won’t do anything to cut up your peace, mark my words.” He motioned to the stairs. “Come. Our housekeeper, Mrs. Griffiths, has prepared a room for you.”