He stumbled around Owen’s outstretched cane, ignored the calls of his friends, and chased after her. Her slim figure moved with impossible ease, while Archie fumbled and finally resorted to elbowing his way after her like he was advancing down the pitch. When he burst out onto the terrace, he saw her past an enclosure of hedgerows separating the gardens from the pastures beyond.
By the time he reached her, she had kneeled and was nudging the insect off the paper and onto the dirt piling around a fence post. “Mining bees are solitary,” she said, her voice soft as velvet. “They nest in mineral soil and leave behind these tunnels.” She pointed towards a raised tube, smaller than her finger, emerging from the dirt.
“I’ve seen those before on my farm.” He kept his voice low, matching the reverence in her tone.
She shook her head, watching as the bee crawled into a passage. “You’re fortunate, then. They’re excellent pollinators.” She uncurled her body to stand and handed him the glass and paper.
Her stutter had disappeared. Why was that?
Archie took the glass and paper from her. “I’m Archie.”
The woman kept her gaze trained on him with a wary expression.
“Short for Archibald, but you could have guessed that,” he continued, even as his mind screamed at his tongue tostop for God’s sake. “But that’s a mouthful, so you can imagine that I’d prefer Archie.” He swallowed, mentally shaking his head as the verbal onslaught he’d forced her to endure. “And you are?”
“I’m Mary,” she said, her soft lips curling into a cautious smile.
Mary.A common name for an uncommon woman. He wondered at the furrow between her brows, the parenthetical ridges at the corners of her mouth. Did she have reason to frown or worry often? She stuttered, spoke with caution, but approached a rowdy group of strangers to rescue a bee.
Mary.
Oh, lord. He’d beenstaring, and the furrow he was pondering had deepened.
And the repetition of her name?Notin his head. “I’m sorry, Mary. I have to repeat names or I’ll forget them. And I get lost in my thoughts sometimes. Not sometimes, a lot. I tend to start saying my thoughts before I’ve fully formed them, which can be messy for anyone listening. Mary.”
She raised one brow. “You also t-talk a lot. Archie.”
He chuckled without mirth and ran his hand through his unruly curls. Far too much time had passed since he’d had any interaction with a woman who wasn’t suing her neighbor over the color of their window boxes, and he had thoroughly bungled his first impression. His shoulders slumped with disappointment. “You’re right, and I’m sorry to bother you. Have a lovely evening, Mary.”
Archie bobbed his head in farewell, intending to save what remained of his pride by retreating, but he felt a small hand grab his elbow.
“You’re not b-b-bothering me.” She bit her lip as she released him, as though she wanted to call back her words.
Archie, the eager dolt that he was, stepped closer. “I’m not?”
She shook her head. “I’m t-t—awful at t-talking to p-p-people, and you…”
“Overwhelmed you? I do that sometimes. A lot, if I’m being honest. Which I am.”
She shrugged and leaned the barest amount closer. He warmed to the tips of his toes. “It’s nice t-to have someone else d-do the sp-speaking.”
“Cheers to that!” He lifted the empty glass as though to toast her, but like all his attempts so far with this woman, the movement was too bold, too quick, and she flinched. “Christ, I’m sorry.”
She exhaled through pursed teeth. “There’s no need to apologize.”
“Why not?” When had he gotten so close to her? “Do you not deserve apologies?”
Her cheeks pinkened. “You st-startled me, but I’m fine.”
“Then I should apologize. You did me a favor and I alarmed you. Besides, it’s not often I’m rescued from a bee by a beautiful woman.”
Her lips parted and head tilted, as though his words confused her.
What was he doing? He must have forgotten how to flirt in the last few months. One final attempt to engage her, then he’d abandon the cause as lost. “Could I get you a drink?”
The crease between her brows returned, and his stomach dropped. She would refuse him, as she had every reason to. But for the first time in months, something intrigued him, challenged him, and he wanted to work for this woman’s attention for no purposeother than to bring her joy. If she walked away, he would bear it, but—
She raised her chin to look over his shoulder, and he turned to see the countess standing in the doorway, framed by the billowing curtains, her hands on her hips. Before he could move to acknowledge her, Mary spoke.
