Page 12 of Better Off Wed

At that, both Lord Thornton and the stranger turned toward her, Thornton wary and the other man incredulous.

“We were wed just this morning,” she explained to Lord Thornton, the weariness in her voice promising a somber tale. Her aunt’s love of the theater had saved Laura more than once, providing fodder for tales that were just believable enough. “I can see by your expression that the name of Lady Sterling conjures no pleasant association for you.” The earl grumbled his assent, and the rest of the pub was quiet enough that the hiss and crackle of the fire behind her seemed almost unbearably loud. “I may say the same for myself. When my brother proposed the match between myself and this gentleman,” she explained, tipping her head toward the stranger, praying he would be willing to take up the role in which she had so abruptly cast him, “I had no notion I would be forever linking my reputation to that of a—a—”

“Thief,” Thornton readily supplied.

Laura conjured a wry smile, grateful he hadn’t chosen something worse.

“Having been raised by an aunt who did not permit me to read the scandal sheets or listen to gossip,” she continued, “I knew nothing of the existence of such a person until this morning. Then, at the wedding breakfast, a friend of Lord Sterling took the liberty of informing me—”

“A friend of mine?” the stranger broke in.

The nervousness she felt as she shifted her attention to him was not feigned. She was not accustomed to performing with a partner. Much rested in the man’s hands, and she did not yet know whether he meant well or ill.

“A former friend, you may be sure.” His voice was firm. “You needn’t have run away.”

Her breath stuttered in her chest. He was going to play along?

“I—I was mortified,” she ventured.

“You must have known I would follow.” He took three steps closer, convincingly hesitant, as if he feared to frighten her away again. “I blame myself,” he said, casting a glance over his shoulder to Thornton before focusing once more on her. “But to whom were you flying?”

“A school friend.” The excuse rose to her lips without thought. “Near Margate.”

“A long, dangerous journey on the public stage,” Thornton declared. “Especially for a lady.”

Her supposed husband stepped closer still to her, dropped down on one knee, and reached for her hand. This was a degree of commitment to the role she had not expected. Despite the mud on her sleeve and the iciness of her bare fingers, and the fact that he was a perfect stranger to her, she seemed to have no choice but to surrender it to him. “Were you injured in that accident, my dearest?” The pad of his thumb swept across her knuckles, chafing warmth into her hand.

My dearest? Those two words from the stranger’s lips were almost as unwelcome as Lady Sterling had been. It was one thing to pretend to be married, quite another to pretend affection.

“I twisted my ankle,” she said, freeing her hand from his grasp to gesture toward her foot, “jumping from the wreckage of the coach.”

“Right brave about it she’s been, though,” Mr. Richardson stepped into the conversation. The stranger—Lord Sterling, as he would have it—listened but did not take his eyes from Laura’s face. “Can’t walk a step on her own, now. I put her on one of the carriages horses myself and carried her inside, I did,” the squire finished, puffing out his barrel chest.

“I am much obliged for your care,” the stranger said, rising. “But we must call for a doctor to look at her injury.”

“I’m—”

I’m fine, she had intended to say, and thereby dismiss any further need for assistance. But as she pushed to her feet to prove it, pain shot through her ankle, and she abruptly sat down once more.

Lord Thornton had the audacity to laugh at her struggle. “Here’s what I propose, Sterling,” he said, turning toward the stranger. “You’ll not find a bed in this establishment. At least, not one suitable for your, er, wedding night.”

At those words, heat rushed into her cheeks, and into the stranger’s too.

The flash of color only made him more appealing.

As quickly as the unwelcome thought rose in her mind, she tossed her head, trying to dislodge it. She needed to keep her wits about her.

“Thornton Hall is only another twenty miles or so,” the earl continued. “I think you’d best come with me.”

Her mouth popped open. She had wished for a rescue, and here was one tailor made. A nod, a few words, and she would find herself yet at her destination.

But as rescues went, this one carried with it more than its share of drawbacks. The last thing she had wanted was to attract Lord Thornton’s attention—at least, not before justice had been served. And having to pretend to be married—to any man, let alone a man she did not know, a man who had nearly exposed her identity—made matters even worse.

Lady Sterling worked alone.

When the stranger’s lips parted to speak, she found herself leaning slightly forward, wondering what he meant to say. He’d played along so far, it was true, but what possible motive could he have for continuing the charade? Any that occurred to her were not worth contemplating for long. Did she want him to say yes, or no?

Either way, a word or two from him would change everything.