Silverton’s voice was heavy with sarcasm. ‘Rest assured, the thought never entered my mind. I’ll see you at dinner.’
‘Fine. All this high drama has left me with an appetite. In fact …’ Mr Oberon glanced at Sophie, his gaze skimming over her with a thoroughness she found insulting. ‘Perhaps you would care to join us, mademoiselle? The innkeeper has assured us of a decent meal in his private dining room and I can assure you, it will be far preferable to sitting cheek to jowl with the riff-raff out here.’
Resisting the urge to tell him the riff-raff would be in the private dining room, Sophie said, ‘Thank you, but, no. My brother and I will be fine out here.’
‘Very well. Then I bid you a good evening. And may I say that it has been … a pleasure.’
His eyes said everything his words did not and as he turned and walked away Sophie felt her face burn with humiliation. If such was a display of upper-crust English manners—
‘You must forgive Oberon’s lack of tact,’ Mr Silverton said drily. ‘He tends to speak before he thinks.’
‘You owe us no apology, sir,’ Antoine replied stiffly. ‘Your conduct more than made up for his.’
Mr Silverton bowed. ‘I would not wish you to think English chivalry dead.’ His glance rested on Sophie for the briefest of moments before he touched the brim of his beaver and walked towards the narrow staircase.
Sophie followed him with her eyes, not at all pleased with the events of the past half-hour. ‘You should not have accepted his offer, Antoine. We know nothing about him.’
‘Nevertheless, I wasn’t about to see you spend your first night in England sleeping in a barn.’
‘Better that than finding ourselves beholden to a man who clearly doesn’t like us.’
‘I don’t care if he likes us,’ Antoine said. ‘All that matters is that you have a proper bed in which to sleep and hot water in which to bathe. Lord Longworth wasn’t able to provide that for you so I wasn’t about to turn Mr Silverton down when he did. Besides, I doubt the loss of one night’s sleep is going to trouble him unduly.’
Of course it wasn’t. Mr Silverton was clearly a man of means, Sophie told herself. If he slept poorly in the bar tonight, he would simply go home and sleep it off tomorrow, no doubt in the comfort of a very fine house with his wife and servants to attend him. He certainly wouldn’t be thinking about her. She was just one more person he’d met along the way.
And that’s all he was to her. One more anonymous face in the crowd. She knew nothing about his life, so what did it matter if he thought her ill mannered for having refused his offer of help? Thanks to him, she would be clean and well rested when she arrived in London for her reunion with Nicholas tomorrow. Surely that was more important than worrying about what kind of impression she’d made on a man she was never going to see again.
Chapter Two
‘So, who do you think she was?’ Montague Oberon enquired between bites of underdone potato and overcooked beef.
Robert Silverton didn’t look up from his plate of steak-and-kidney pie, hoping his apparent preoccupation with his meal would discourage Oberon from continuing to talk about her. ‘Why would you not think she was his sister?’
‘Because you heard what he said about it being important she look her best tomorrow.’
‘Perhaps she is meeting with a prospective employer. Or a long-lost relation.’
‘Or her new protector. You know what they say about French women.’
‘I know what you say about French women,” Robert said, reaching for the salt cellar. “But I fear they are not all whores, strumpets or ballet dancers.’
‘Pity.’ Oberon took a piece of bread, his brow furrowing. ‘I suppose she could have been his mistress. There seemed to be a deal of affection between them, and God knows, I’ve never looked at my sister that way.’
‘Why would you? You’ve told me countless times that you despise Elaine.’
‘Of course. You would too if she were your sister. But I’ve never seen you look at Jane that way and the two of you are very close.’
‘You’re imagining things.’ Finishing his meal, Robert picked up his glass. ‘There were marked similarities in their appearance. The slenderness of the nose, the firm line of the jaw, the shape of the eyes.’ The seductive curve of the lady’s mouth. Oh, yes, he’d noticed that. And he’d stared at it far too many times during their brief conversation … ‘I have no doubt they were related. But I could ask the gentleman on your behalf and leave you to the consequences.’
The viscount’s son nearly choked. ‘And find myself on the other end of a Frenchie’s blade? No, thank you. I haven’t your skill with the foil.’
‘You could if you showed more inclination to learn.’
‘I’ve little inclination to do anything that involves hard work or strenuous exercise,’ Oberon said, pausing to flick a remnant of charred crust from the bread. ‘Still, I’d give a year’s allowance to have her in my bed for one night.’
‘It seems to me your money would be better spent on the pursuit of a respectable bride,’ Robert said, sitting back in his chair. ‘Was that not a requirement of your continuing to receive the exceedingly generous allowance your father doles out to you twice a year?’
‘Damned if it wasn’t,” Oberon muttered. ‘The old codger knows me too well. I cannot afford to live without the allowance, so I am forced to legshackle myself to some simpering heiress or some horse-faced widow long past her prime in order to assure its continuation.’
Robert smiled, aware that even under the most dire of circumstances, Oberon would never settle for anything less than a diamond of the first water. ‘I’m sure such desperate measures will not be called for. No doubt you’ll find at least one young lady amongst this year’s crop of blushing débutantes to tempt you.’
‘Tempt us, don’t you mean?’
‘No. I’ve had my brush with marriage, thank you,’ Robert said. ‘My only goal is to settle my sister in marriage and I intend to devote all of my energies to that.’
Oberon frowned. ‘You may have a difficult task there, Silver. Jane’s a delightful girl, but there is her affliction to consider.’
‘I wouldn’t call a misshapen foot an affliction, and I certainly don’t consider it an impediment to her making a good marriage.’
‘Of course not. You’re her brother and honour bound to defend her. But what man would not wish his wife to be the most beautiful woman of his acquaintance?’
Robert raised his glass and studied his companion over the rim. The remark came as no surprise. It was exactly what he expected from a man who valued physical perfection above all and saw anything less as flawed. ‘Jane is an acknowledged beauty.’
‘But she limps, Silver. She cannot walk without the use of a cane and is hard pressed even to ride as well as other young ladies her age.’
‘But she rides nevertheless.’
‘Only when in the country where no one can see her. Be reasonable, old man. Jane’s chances of making a good match in London are about as remote as ours of finding a man of wit and intelligence amongst the rabble out there,’ Oberon said bluntly. ‘Perhaps if you left her in the country, introduced her to the local clergyman—’
‘Jane’s chances of making a good match in London are no better or worse than any one else’s,’ Robert said mildly. ‘Love enables one to overlook what others see as faults.’