Knowing he was beaten, Sir Weston picked up his hat, bowed to Sophie and strode towards the door.
‘You will meet me for this, sir!’ he hissed as he passed between Lord Rotherby and the round-eyed landlord.
‘Another challenge, Weston?’ Lord Rotherby drawled. ‘I’ll expect a withdrawal within the hour then.’
Sir Weston stopped abruptly and turned towards Rotherby, and from this vantage point there was no denying that they shared a bloodline. Their stature and scowls were nearly identical, though one was controlled, while the other was wild enough to make the landlord throw up his hands in horror.
‘I do not accept your insults, and Miss Fairfax certainly does not deserve to endure your company,’ Sir Weston said through tight white lips. ‘You will hear more on both but unlike you, there is a limit to what I will say and do in front of a lady. And you can keep your view,’ he threw at the landlord, ‘because I never liked those damned gargoylesanyway!’
At this, Gérard turned a very deep and resentful purple, but had the good sense not to pass comment.
‘I depart your faithful servant, Miss Fairfax,’ Sir Weston concluded, turning back to Sophie. ‘But trust Iwillbe in touch!’
Then he strode from the room, while Lord Rotherby and the landlord looked on with a mix of disdain and puffed-cheek forbearance.
‘Shouldn’t you be resting?’ Sophie demanded.
‘Probably,’ Lord Rotherby replied, his eyes glittering, ‘except my betrothed seems determined to attract the attention of every gutter-dweller in France. Including those who wish to shoot at me with alarming regularity– not that Sir George Weston poses a serious threat of course.’
Sophie scowled as the landlord walked away muttering some very rude, very French things.
‘How could you behave so to a gentleman who was only seeking to assist a friend? she threw furiously. ‘You consider yourself a nobleman, but what is noble about insulting another before denying him a roof over his head? And a kinsman too, I am led to believe. It is the act of a villain, and I for one could never imagine Sir Weston engaging in such behaviour, no matter his reason.
She paused to watch Lord Rotherby’s lips tighten and felt a dart of satisfaction. Somehow, she’d got under his skin.
‘Why did you have to leave London so quickly?’ she added. ‘Why can you not return? And why do you pretend you are invincible, when it is so very clear you are not?!’
She glared at Rotherby’s injury, which was clearly causing him considerable discomfort, and waited for the usual derisory retort, but instead he only regarded her through half-shuttered eyes.
‘Above all things, I consider myself honourable,’ he replied grittily. ‘I do not lead or make false promises to ladies, any more than I accuse a gentleman unjustly, yet I cannot explain it, so you will just have to trust me when I say Weston is not all he appears to be. I left London because I was falsely accused of villainous behaviour– that Iwilldisprove. You must accept my word that this is truth.’
He paused to smile darkly, and Sophie wished she didn’t find him so convincing.
‘As for Weston, better for him he’s out of my sight. You know my reputation. I never miss– it’s a Rotherby thing.’
There was a brief silence while Sophie scrutinised him intently.
‘I accept that there are some things gentlemen prefer not to discuss,’ she replied quietly, ‘in the same way ladies do not divulge all their secrets. But I cannot accept Sir Weston’s nature is as you describe. He has only ever treated me with the utmost respect and gentlemanly regard so I think Lord Rotherby, given all the circumstances, I will make my own mind up about who I do and don’t trust– it’s a Fairfax thing!’
Then she gathered her skirts and swept from the room, wishing with all her heart that her sisters were there to agree.
* * *
It was one hour, and nearly two foiled plans later, when a scratch at her door revealed a rather sheepish-looking Horace.
‘Guvnor says you’re to come with me, miss,’ he muttered, not quite meeting her eyes.
‘Does he?’ Sophie returned in an arctic tone. ‘Well, please tell yourguvnorthat I’ve no wish to go anywhere with him, or anyone remotely connected with him, now or in the future, thank you, Horace.’
Sophie made to close the door, only to find Horace’s boot in the way.
‘Guvnor said you’d say that an’…’ He paused to scratch his head. ‘Well, he said to say it’s in your best interests, miss. He’s managed to arrange the stay with ’is relation, miss, aMadame Dupres, while he conducts some bus’ness. He says it’s not ’propriate for you to stay ‘ere anymore, an’ she’s from one of the best fam’lies an?—’
Sophie yanked open the door with the force of a small tornado.
‘You can tell his lordship,’ she hissed, ‘that I’ve changed my mind and I’m not being foisted off on some poor, unsuspecting female relation while he jaunts off in search of someone to marry us! I have my own plan, and I’m?—’
‘Beggin’ yer pardon, miss,’ Horace persisted, ‘he said I was to give yer back this, miss?’
