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“We needn’t return if you would rather continue scavenging,” he said as they neared the house. “I happen to know a place where we could find a few more things to add to our arsenal.”
She considered him, looking tempted yet reluctant.
He smiled. “I shan’t put my hand on your back, if that is what you fear.”
The color rose in her face. “That was not what I feared, though I do think it would be beneficial for us to have a chaperone of some sort.”
He gave a little bow. “Your wish is my command.” He led them around the west wing of the house, where he knocked on a curtained window. Just seconds later, it shifted aside, and a footman appeared, looking surprised to find himself facing his master.
Archie motioned for him to join them outside, and within minutes, they had their chaperone.
He led the way along the gravel path toward a wooded area that ran parallel to the French gardens and the fountain in their center. The trees sprawled over them in a canopy of mostly barren branches, but they had only walked another minute when they reached a little copse of pines.
Their conversation was confined to a discussion of which branches to clip, but without shears, they were obliged to break the branches with brute force, something only Archie could do given Miss Prescott’s injury. A clip of the shears would fix the mangled edges easily enough when they returned to the house.
The footman had soon amassed enough branches in his arms that he was obliged to find a place to set them down before he could accept more.
Archie and Miss Prescott took the opportunity to sit upon an obliging log for a respite, and Archie instructed the footman that he might do the same.
He chose a stump a score of feet away.
“You know, Miss Prescott,” Archie said, “I think we might help one another.”
She glanced at him, her brows raised as she unfastened the strings of her bonnet. “In what way?”
“Well,” he said, “I have no desire to be pushed toward every eligible female in attendance here, including Miss Caldwell, and I suspect that you have no desire to be pursued by Mr. Fowell.”
A little v formed in her brow. “Yes…” It was as much question as affirmative response.
“If we made a point of spending time in one another’s company, we might both avoid such things—and be all the happier for it.”
Her eyes searched his. “Are you suggesting we…feign some sort of courtship?”
He chuckled softly. “I suppose I am.”
She said nothing for some time. “I cannot think your mother would like that.”
“No. She would not. Which is part of the allure.”
Her brow furrowed. “For you, perhaps. Not for me.”
His mouth drew up at one edge. “Do you care so much for my mother’s opinion?”
“Is that so strange?”
“Frankly, yes. Mother is…” He struggled to find the words to describe her. Silly was the first that came to mind, but it felt too unkind. He loved his mother. He simply did not like her a great deal of the time. “She is…”
“The hostess of the party I am attending. And a countess. It seems unwise to set up her back for a feigned courtship. At the risk of sounding selfish, my lord, I cannot see how that would serve me.”
“Well, at the risk of sounding arrogant, Miss Prescott, courting an earl would serve you, regardless of my mother’s opinion.”
“You are right,” she agreed. “It does sound arrogant.”
Archie smiled. “It is simply a truth of the world we live in. Beyond that, however, it is a known fact that I have no interest in marriage, which would make my display of interest in you all the more powerful.”
She considered this, and he watched her with amusement.
“My confidence is suffering a blow, Miss Prescott. I had not thought I would find it so difficult to persuade you to spend time in my company.”
