Sophie glanced up sharply.
How did she not know Lord Rotherby and Sir Weston were related? And how could two such dissimilar gentlemen be related at all?
And yet, as she looked at him, the truth of his words was undeniable. They were different gentlemen in every way, but now he’d said it, she could see little else. Sir Weston was fairer, but otherwise they had the same jaw, the same high brow and, when they chose it, the same glint in their eye too. It was inconceivable, yet so obvious too– like two sides of one coin.
‘You should also know, I am quite aware of Lord Rotherby’s… character, and can assure you of my utmost discretion, were your situation to beslightlydifferent to that which you have described?’
‘Oh,’ Sophie replied, trying to resist the temptation to tell kind Sir Weston everything, and failing instantly. ‘I was only trying to dissuade Aurelia,’ she confided falteringly, ‘and then Lord Rotherby thought I was Mrs Haxby… and so he didn’t actually know I was in his coach until Dover when I shot him with the crossbow… which was when the whole marriage thing came up,’ she exhaled heavily.
‘Mrs Haxby… marriage thing… youshot him?’ Sir Weston repeated in a bewildered tone, making Sophie wonder if he’d caught a chill, or had the headache perhaps. ‘And he’s staying right here inL’Auberge Notre Dame?’ he added through gritted teeth. ‘I will put a stop to this right now, Miss Fairfax. I will call him out for there can be no marriage without a bridegroom, after all!’
Sophie frowned. It was a tricky situation by anyone’s reckoning but she couldn’t imagine anyone less likely to get the better of Lord Rotherby in a duel than kind, sensible Sir Weston.
‘We’re both here, in separate bedchambers,’ she confirmed hastily. ‘He tells everyone I am a distant relation he is delivering to my parents, though I fear that tale has not been as persuasive as we might wish. Still, his Lordshipisrecovering from a wound at the moment, and since he has behaved quite properly since the whole street brawl?—’
Sir Weston eyed her with such horror then that she considered sending for a jug of water.
The whole situation was undoubtedly a mess, but she’d never imagined Sir Weston being quite so enraged on her behalf.
‘I cannot fathom why you were forced to defend yourself with a crossbow,’ he said heatedly, ‘any more than I can bear the thought of you being mixed up in a street brawl! I will not abandon you to your predicament, Miss Fairfax.’
He stood up then to kick a log into the dancing flames before turning to face her with an expression she barely recognised.
‘I understand more than you know,’ he continued in a low, gritty tone, ‘and this is not the first time I’ve known Lord Dominic Rotherby to act dishonourably. Do you trust me, Miss Fairfax?’
Sophie had the distinct feeling that she was wandering further into hot water, but was unable to fathom an escape.
‘Well, yes… of course,’ she said faintly.
‘Then you will trust me to arrange things to your advantage?’
She hesitated again, before he stepped closer and took her hand.
‘Lord Rotherby is a known libertine of the ton, and I may not be as rich, but I warrant I amtwiceas honourable!’ he declared intently. ‘You’d need never shoot me, I promise.’
Sophie stared, as though in a trance, as Sir Weston lifted her hand and planted a small, chaste kiss on her fingers. It was so different to Lord Rotherby’s kiss that it was almost disappointing, and yet the intent behind his words mattered more.
Was he actually offering what she thought he was offering?
‘How very affecting,’ a voice drawled from the parlour entrance, ‘and yet a display of affection that is entirely excessive, for Miss Fairfax is shortly to become Lady Rotherby. Pray unhand her, Weston. I’m not in favour of any lady befriending buffle-headed buffoons, least of all my future wife.’
There was a moment’s silence, then a dark flush rose up Sir Weston’s neck, as he turned and locked eyes with Lord Rotherby. Transfixed, Sophie watched as each one regarded the other in some kind of murderous stand-off, until the full ridiculousness of the situation dawned on her.
‘When you are quite finished with your theatricals,’ she said coldly, gathering her skirts, ‘I shall be in my bedchamber, actually planning a way out of this mess.’
‘Don’t over-tax yourself,’ Lord Rotherby replied, his eyes softening briefly. ‘For I have news of my own. But firstly, I will see Sir Weston to the door, as I do believe L’Auberge Notre-Dame cannot accommodate any more guests. Is that not the case, Gérard?’
Lord Rotherby raised his voice so loudly that the long-suffering landlord had little choice but to approach the small party.
‘Weren’t you telling me this morning how full L’Auberge Notre-Dame is, Gérard?’ Lord Rotherby continued smoothly. ‘After I rented the remainder of the rooms on my floor.’
‘Mais… c’est vrai, my lord, unfortunately…’ the landlord replied, when he managed to control his gaping mouth.
‘Unfortunately indeed. So, you see, Sir Weston, I do believe you must find a room in some other establishment, for Gérard’s rooms are already being used by esteemed guests of L’Auberge Notre-Dame.’
Lord Rotherby smiled then, though it wasn’t a smile of condolence, but one of vehement dislike.
In disbelief, Sophie watched as the bemused landlord looked from Lord Rotherby to Sir Weston and back again, before looking to the ceiling and muttering something very rude under his breath.Then he bowed stiffly and began explaining to Sir Weston in a stream of apologetic French how Lord Rotherby had booked out the last ofles chambresearlier that day.
