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“My lord! You never told me you were betrothed already! How could you, indeed!” She swept toward Sophia and extended a comforting hand. “My dear girl, it is not as it seems at all!”
    But Sophia flinched from her. “Do not touch me, you si—you horrid woman!” Linnea backed away, her face blanching. Sophia raised a weak hand to her bosom. “Oh, Rothwick, I swear my heart is breaking!”
    But here Sophia made a grave mistake. Had she allowed Linnea to comfort her, the earl would not have been proof against the combined recriminations of two females. He might even have banished his idea of marrying Linnea, for Sophia had seemed truly unhappy. But Linnea’s pale and stricken face reflected the realization of all the horrors of her situation at last and moved my lord to pity.
    “Nonsense!” he said sharply. “You are indulging yourself in hysterics over a situation about which you know nothing.” Rothwick glanced past Sophia and noticed a chambermaid peeking around a corner, totally absorbed in their altercation. “Further, this is not the place to discuss private matters. I suggest we retire to a private parlour, if we wish to do so.”
    “I do not wish!” cried Sophia, and stamped her foot. Things were not going the way they should. Rothwick should have been struck with her sad but appealing beauty, become abjectly apologetic, and abandoned that woman immediately. “Father will hear of this!”
    “To be sure he will,” Rothwick replied smoothly. “I shall send a letter requesting a meeting with him at once.”
    For the first time Sophia felt a touch of uncertainty. Perhaps she had misgauged the situation. She was not sure if Rothwick’s proposed letter to her father would contain all that she would want it to contain. She would bring Richard into this. He was her brother after all, and it was his duty to put her interests above all else. “As for that,” she said haughtily, “my brother can act for Father. Richard has accompanied me to this inn and you may speak to him as well as you would to Lord Amberley.”
    “Very well, then. If you will give me his direction, I will see him. But first, I desire breakfast.”
    Sophia stamped her foot again. “How can you think of breakfast at this time, you horrid man! The thought of food should be repulsive to anyone of delicate sensibilities!”
    Linnea suddenly spoke up. “Indeed, my lord, I think it best if I did not accompany you to breakfast, and stayed within my—the chamber.” She was still pale, but for all that she spoke with a certain dignity.
    Rothwick paused, then said: “To be sure. I will, nevertheless, order a light repast be brought to you, for it would not do for you to be faint with hunger on the way to my sister’s house.” Linnea nodded and slipped back into the room.
    “And what of myself?” demanded Sophia.
    “Since you apparently have delicate sensibilities, I assume you will not be having breakfast,” he said calmly. “However, I have often known persons of such delicacy to rest in a darkened room after an upset to their nerves. Perhaps you should do so.” This last was said in as solicitous a tone as Rothwick could muster.
    Sophia was not mollified, yet to remain would imply she did not, after all, have delicate sensibilities. Further, his tone reminded her that she had just had a shocking revelation, should be totally overset and in a weakened condition.
    “Yes, yes, you are right,” she said, her voice returning to a faint and heartbroken murmur. Sophia lifted a hand to her brow. “I am not sure how I will recover from this, this—Ah, I cannot say it!” She tottered away from Rothwick toward her room. She did not bother to tell him where Richard could be found. Why should she make it easy for him?
    The earl clenched his teeth. It needed only this to make his situation complete. He opened the door to the stairs and nearly upset Mrs. Chawleigh, the innkeeper’s wife.
    “Oh, your lordship, I was only coming up to see if