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The vicar’s eyes widened.
Archie cleared his throat to mask a laugh. “I think what Miss Prescott means to say—”
“I quite understand what she means,” the vicar said, his mouth tight. “Marriage. Marriage is the only answer when virtue has been compromised.”
“Mercy from God,” Archie said, as though working out a sum, “marriage to appease Society. Yes, that makes a great deal of sense.” He looked at Miss Prescott. “You see…marriage.”
Miss Prescott met his look with one that promised revenge before turning back to Mr. Tomlinson. “But, vicar, what if the man refuses to marry? For, who in their right mind would marry a woman when virtue has been, as you said it, catastrophically compromised?”
Horror and confusion lit his eyes, which darted between them like a cornered dog.
“Mr. Tomlinson!” the parish clerk approached the vicar with an open registry in hand.
The vicar looked at Archie and Miss Prescott uncertainly, as though reluctant to leave them in the middle of such a fraught conversation.
“We shan’t keep you any longer,” Archie said with a smile. “Merry Christmas, Mr. Tomlinson.”
“Merry Christmas, sir,” Miss Prescott murmured as Archie guided them away from the vicar and toward the door.
He glanced over his shoulder to ensure they were out of hearing distance as the impulse to laugh bubbled up inside. “I think we have ruined his Christmas.”
“You are quite wretched, my lord,” Miss Prescott said.
“I?”
“Yes! You were the one who insisted upon introducing me to him. If you had not, none of this would have happened. I am mortified by my behavior, and now the vicar believes you and I are planning some folly.”
“Or that we have committed it already and I have refused to do my duty by you, though I don’t think he knows what to believe. But I have no regrets. I have never enjoyed a Christmas service more.”
“That is impressive, seeing as you left it early.”
“And yet still heard far more of his apparently abbreviated sermon than you did.”
The look she shot him sent a quiver of delight through him. Something about Miss Prescott made it feel like a victory anytime she showed true, unfiltered emotion. Perhaps it was because she was trying so very hard to contain herself. But it was the unfiltered version of her he most enjoyed.
“Are we to dine when we return to Bellthorne?” she asked.
“I believe so. Mother has planned for everyone to do silhouettes afterward.”
Miss Prescott’s step faltered. “Everyone?”
Archie watched her as they passed the lines of pews, his eyes slightly narrowed. “Decidedly everyone. Are you opposed to silhouettes?”
“Not to sitting for one. I shan’t be required to…draw one, shall I?”
“Oh, yes. You most decidedly shall.”
She shook her head.
“After such a reaction from you, no amount of opposition will change my determination.” He opened the church door for her, catching the sweet scent of violets as she passed.
“Everyone should be opposed to an attempt on my part at any form of drawing or painting.” She touched a hand to her head. “I am quite certain I feel the beginnings of the headache. Perhaps even a cold.”
Archie was prevented from responding, as Miss Prescott’s brother and Miss Hollis awaited her outside. Both of them looked at Archie with interest—and perhaps a bit of uncertainty—as he and Miss Prescott emerged from the church into the cold.
He had wondered if she would tell either of them of their arrangement, but based on the way they both looked at them, it did not seem as though she had.
They separated, and Archie was obliged to surrender to Mother’s insistence that he join Miss Benson and her in the carriage to Bellthorne.
