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“It’s a three-night journey to Ravenshaw from London, at minimum. More likely four.”

Lannister smiled ironically. “Yes, it is.” Jerome’s mind balked at the notion of Ava staying at an inn with Lannister—for three nights! With no one to chaperone her, protect her from—

“Where did you see Troubridge?”

“At Newcastle. We stopped there because of the storm. I had no notion she would continue on in that weather. Crazy girl!”

“She walked all the way from Newcastle in that tempest?” Jerome said horrified. Only then realizing what Ava had actually done.

“Seemingly, yes.” Lannister frowned. “Didn’t she tell you any of this?”

Jerome shook his head.

“And Troubridge didn’t mention me?”

“No.” Jerome frowned into the fire, a notion forming in his mind that made him feel ill.

“You have surrendered any pretensions to the hand of Lady Isabella?”

“Yes,” Jerome’s response was clipped, even as he flushed with a mix of shame and annoyance.

Lannister nodded. “You are going to marry her—Ava, I mean—aren’t you?”

Jerome stiffened, flushing further. “Of course!”

“Thank God for that!” Lannister grinned. “All’s well that ends well then.” He offered his glass in toast.

Jerome stared at him hard for a moment. “You never wished to marry her yourself?”

“I adore Ava, but no.” His lips twisted in a slightly bitter smile, and he looked away.

“I suppose I should thank you for bringing her to me safely,” said Jerome grudgingly.

Lannister offered his glass in a toast and Jerome clinked his to it.

Both men drank in silence, Jerome thinking that the first thing he was going to ask Ava when he saw her was how the hell she got from Newcastle to Ravenshaw on foot in the dark and a raging storm.