Sweetest Little Sin

by Christine Wells

  Funny, Julia had never contemplated how fetching the girl must appear to those of the male persuasion. Yes, Sophie was pretty, she supposed. Gentlemen would notice that, of course. But, by God, what was that charming expression forming on Sophie’s fresh, youthful face? Why, the little tart was actually smiling at Anthony Rastmoor!

  “Why, Mr. and Mrs. Clemmons,” Lindley said, noticing them and coming their way.

  Julia had given the false name at the spur of the moment as they were leaving London. It had seemed convenient to use as they’d traveled, and now she was glad they had. No one would think it amiss to see the quiet Clemmons couple being greeted by an old acquaintance here, and no awkward explanations would have to be given at mistaken names.

  Anthony, too, would likely not recognize the name.

  Or maybe it didn’t really matter. He’d likely forgotten her altogether, judging by the way his attention was now given entirely to her companion. Indeed, why should he so much as spare a second glance to Julia’s severe haircut and soupy mustache, while Sophie was sitting there in front of him, all blond and dreamy and feminine? Damn his eyes.

  “How odd to run into you here,” Lord Lindley said when he reached their table. “I had no idea you were traveling this way, else I would have invited you to share my carriage.”

  He, too, had his eye on Sophie. What pigs these men were. Didn’t they realize Sophie was supposed to be a married woman? How dare they stare like this! If it kept on, Julia feared she’d end up having to call at least one of them out or risk exposing herself as a fraud. What husband could sit calmly while virtual strangers drooled over his wife? Shame on them. How on earth had Julia ever thought Anthony Rastmoor to be a decent, worthwhile human being?

  “We had a rather sudden change of plan,” Sophie was saying. “Didn’t we, Mr. Clemmons?”

  Julia cleared her throat. “Er, yes. We came this way rather spur of the moment.” She worked at keeping her voice low and hoped Anthony might not recognize it.

  She needn’t have worried. His focus was all on Sophie, to the point the poor girl must have noticed and was finally starting to appear uncomfortable.

  “Forgive me,” Lindley said, at least trying to tear his eyes from Sophie and act respectably. “Everyone has not been introduced. Lord Rastmoor, this is Mr. Alexander Clemmons and his lovely wife, Mrs. Sophie Clemmons. We met a few days ago in London.”

  Rastmoor made a polite bow and allowed Julia a quick nod before turning his attention back to Sophie. It had been highly unnecessary for Lindley to recall Sophie’s first name, but obviously he had. Sophie was looking decidedly anxious now. The girl might be too pretty for her own good, but at least she appeared to have some sense. She knew enough not to trust the flattery of blackguards.

  “How do you do,” Julia said, not pausing long enough for Rastmoor to speak before directing her next question to Lindley. “Will you gentlemen be staying for the night here?”

  Lindley sent a quick look toward his partner, and Rastmoor gave the reply. His voice sliced Julia to the heart. Odd that a voice could have so much power.

  “We’re undecided as yet, Mr. Clemmons. Will you be staying?”

  Julia fixed her eyes firmly on her soup bowl. Mr. Clemmons . He still hadn’t recognized her. Lord, but that, too, hurt far more than it should have.

  “We haven’t entirely decided that, my lord,” Julia replied. It was true. If she found the men would be here, she’d simply leave a note of warning for Rastmoor with the innkeeper then get herself and Sophie back on the road and far away from the lusty lords.

  But Sophie had her own ideas. She smiled brightly for the men. “The roads have been so very difficult, though. I do truly dread getting back in that coach to be jostled along to the next posting house. Perhaps if Mr. Clemmons knew some of his gentlemen friends were to be staying here tonight, I could stand a better chance of convincing him.”

  Julia gaped at her friend. What was she doing? Now that Lindley was here, they needed to leave, not settle in for the night! He was the one who could unmask them! Maybe Sophie didn’t have so much sense, after all.

  Lord Lindley gave a rumbling chuckle and turned his gaze onto Julia. “Shame on you, Mr. Clemmons, forcing your young bride to travel under these conditions.”

  His attention was short-lived. He returned his focus—and a disgustingly warm smile—back on Sophie. “Rest assured, Mrs. Clemmons, if it will gain you a few hours’ respite from the torment of travel, Rastmoor and I will do our best to persuade your husband to obtain a room for the night. In fact, I’ll go see to making arrangements with the proprietor. Don’t worry, Clemmons, tonight will be at my expense.”

  Lindley made a showy bow then went off in the direction the innkeeper had last been seen. Blast, what had Sophie done? It was true the small purse Julia had on her at the time of their departure was growing a bit thin right now, but certainly she couldn’t allow Lindley to assume their expenses. Even more certainly, she couldn’t spend the night under the same roof as Anthony Rastmoor! What if the man tried to engage her in conversation? How long could she expect her disguise to hold out if Rastmoor ever did decide to take his eyes off Sophie long enough to question Mr. Clemmons’s bizarre mustache and feminine voice?

  But so far Rastmoor hadn’t reached that point. He was still staring at Sophie and smiling in delight as he called out to Lindley, “See about getting us a private dining room, as well. I’m sure the Clemmonses will wish to join us in a quiet supper.”

  Oh, Lord. What next?

  Lindley nodded and disappeared into a back hallway where the innkeeper had last been seen to go. Julia glanced nervously at Sophie. The girl just batted her wide blue eyes and shrugged. Well, Julia would just have to find a way to get them out of this.

  “There’s no need for a private room, sir,” she protested. “Mrs. Clemmons and I have just finished our meal, as you can see, and now we’d like—”

  “Oh, but dearest,” Sophie interrupted, innocent and darling. “Surely that little bowl of soup was barely enough for a strapping man such as yourself. Why not join your friend Rastmoor over a hearty meal?”

  Ah, so that was Sophie’s angle. The chit was meddling. Julia would put a quick end to that.

  “I assure you, my precious, that soup was quite adequate for my frame,” Julia said. “We have no need to remain here any longer. I simply need to give a note to our innkeeper, if you recall.” Now she gave Sophie a glare that should have wiped the pink smile from her rosebud lips. It didn’t.

  “What’s our hurry, dear? Surely you can think of something interesting to discuss with these fine gentlemen,” Sophie suggested.

  “No, actually, I’m sure I can’t,” Julia assured her.

  “Fear not, Clemmons,” Rastmoor said, leaning casually against a nearby table and leering down at Sophie. “I’m sure we’ll find plenty to occupy our time. In fact, a private room will be just what we need. There is a particular matter I’m certain you’ll be most eager to discuss.”

  Now, that erased the pink smile. Sophie slid a nervous glance at Julia. What was Rastmoor hinting at with that glinting eye and ominous tone? Had he found them out? Preventing any hasty escape Julia may have contrived, Lindley returned with the proprietor.

  “Yer in luck,” the innkeeper said with an eager grin. “I got a nice room just waiting for ye, and my wife’ll bring a good, healthy stew.”

  Julia tried to demur, but Lindley gracefully swooped in to loop Sophie’s hand through his arm and assist her up from her chair. When Julia glanced over at Rastmoor, she found him, at last, looking her way.

  “Come, Clemmons,” he said. “I doubt you’ll want to miss this.”

  Indeed, from the way he spoke, she was fairly certain she did want to miss it, whatever it was. She was fairly certain, too, he was not about to let her. Helpless, she followed Anthony Rastmoor through the big, safe common area into a private dining room off the dark corner under the stairs.

  >   Christine Wells, Sweetest Little Sin