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Archie felt a flash of surprise, but he concealed it. “Nearly….Did you shoot the man?”

She blinked. “What?”

“You said nearly eloped. I only wondered if your penchant for violence was what put a stop to it.”

She looked half-aggravated, half-amused. “I do not have a penchant for violence, my lord. I did not shoot my footman, nor do I murder suitors as a matter of course.”

“That is precisely what a person who did murder her suitors would say, is it not? But very well. Let us pretend for the sake of argument that you are not prone to violence, and that a shooting was not the reason for your near elopement. Were you apprehended en route to Gretna Green? Did you become so violently ill in the poorly sprung chaise that you were obliged to give up? Or did you merely lose your resolve?”

There was a pause. “He did.”

Archie’s teasing humor flickered, for those two words cost her a great deal to say. “It sounds to me as though you are well out of a bad bargain.”

She smiled wryly. “I believe I was thought the bad part of the bargain. He married two weeks later by special license. Something of an heiress, as I understand it.” The smile she offered pricked his heart.

“Well,” he said, “I would have preferred a greater scandal than a near-elopement, but I suppose it will do well enough for our purposes.”

She gave him an enigmatic look. “You become ever-stranger. I assure you, I shan’t be offended if you change your mind about the…uh…”

“Feigned courtship,” he offered.

“Yes.”

“I am as enthusiastic about it as I ever was, but if you cannot even say the words, Miss Prescott, I rather think you might struggle to carry out the action.”

Her gaze grew thoughtful. “What would the action be?”

He looked at her in amusement. If she had nearly eloped with a man, she ought to understand a bit about courtship.

“I ask,” she explained, “because feigning a courtship might help us now, but when it ends…” She took in a breath. “If people believed there to be an understanding between us, I doubt my reputation could sustain the blow the end of that understanding would cause.”

He considered this. She had a fair point, and, truth be told, he had not thought too deeply about what it was they would do.

“It needn’t be anything formal,” Archie said. “Just enough to make it clear we prefer one another’s company. To convey to Mr. Fowell that I take an interest in you and your happiness—and deter him from attempting anything…untoward.”

“And to persuade Miss Caldwell of the same?” Miss Prescott teased.

“Miss Caldwell is a secondary concern for me,” he said. “It is my mother to whom I wish to send a firm message.”

“And what message is that?”

“That the more pressure she exerts, the more resistance she will meet.”

“She has high hopes of you making a match from this party, I take it?”

“Oh, yes.”

“And I am the one person she least wishes you to take an interest in.”

“Yes.” He searched her face. “Do I offend you in saying so?”

“No. As I said, I cannot blame your mother for her dislike of me. If I had a son, undoubtedly, I would feel the same way. Shall you marry to spite her, then?”

He frowned and regarded his boots. “Between the two of us, no. I have told her I do not mean to marry, but it would be nearer the truth to say I do not mean to marry anytime soon. When I do wed, it will be with due deference to my title. Some dull, wealthy woman with a pedigree she can trace to Edward the First, no doubt.” Even the thought made him melancholy.

“Edward the First was anything but dull, my lord.”

“Which is precisely why she would be. He kept all the best attributes for himself, leaving none to his progeny. But enough of me. Perhaps this arrangement is not to your liking. You might well find a match here.”