into her chamber, wanting her away from the scoundrel.
She pressed herself against the wall, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. “He knows.”
King ran a hand over his face. “I imagine he does, yes.”
She looked up at him. “Why didn’t you tell him the truth?”
“That we are merely traveling companions who don’t much care for one another?” She paused at that, and he felt like an ass for having said it with the taste of her on his lips. “Sophie—”
“No,” she said, waving his words away. “It’s true. And he wouldn’t believe it.”
It wasn’t true, but he didn’t push her. “No, he wouldn’t.”
She nodded. “Thank you. I shall only presume for another day. Until the mail coach arrives.”
He looked to the ceiling. “You’re not taking the mail coach, dammit. Especially not now.”
“Why not? They shan’t be looking for me there.”
It was likely the truth, but he’d had enough of this woman and the carelessness with which she lived her life. “Because you have a habit of getting shot on mail coaches.”
“It wasn’t on the coach.”
“Now who is arguing semantics?” She closed her mouth. “I shall see you to Mossband.” He couldn’t help the rest of the words now that he knew, almost certainly, that she’d been lying to him from the start. “Right into your baker’s doughy arms.”
“Aren’t you clever.”
“I am, rather.”
He would wager his entire fortune that there was no baker. Which meant she was running, and he was the only person who could help her. Just as he’d been for another girl an eternity ago.
And he’d be damned if he was going to let this one down, too.
A short rap sounded on the door to the room and he opened it to find Mary, John, and Bess. They stepped inside without being invited. Mary spoke quickly. “There’s a man downstairs asking questions about a missing girl.”
“Yes, we met him,” King said.
Mary looked to Sophie. “He says her name is Sophie. And she’s a nob.”
Sophie watched her carefully, but did not say anything.
Mary looked to King. “They say she’s with another nob.”
He did not reply.
John added, “We think it’s you.”
King spoke then. “Did you tell the man your suspicions?”
“No,” John said. “We’s loyal to our friends’ secrets.”
Sophie nodded. “Thank you.”
“Wot’d you do to deserve a man hunting you?”
Sophie smiled, small and somewhat sad, and King resisted the urge to go to her and gather her in his arms. “I ran from a life I did not want.”
“We cannot pretend we don’t understand that,” Mary said, putting her hand on Bess’s shoulder and pulling the girl close.
Christ. He was going to have to take care of these three. He couldn’t leave them here to their own devices. Mary was young and the other two were children.
Smart, savvy, thieving children, but children nonetheless.
“You must go,” Mary said. “And quickly.”
He reached into his pocket and extracted his purse, extending a handful of coins to Mary. “You’ll follow. In my coach.”
Her brows rose. “Why?”
He knew pride when he saw it in the young girl’s eyes. Knew she would not accept charity in any sense. He’d had to badger her into accepting the room Sophie had insisted he pay for. “Because we’re going to hire another carriage. And those men shall think that you three are us. In my coach. Hieing north to Scotland.”
“To elope!” Bess spoke for the first time.
Sophie looked to the young girl. “What do you know of eloping?”
“I don’t,” Bess said, honestly. “But I know people do it in Scotland.”
“As a matter of fact,” King said to the little girl. “I think they just might believe we are eloping.”
“Are you?” Mary asked.
“No!” Sophie said without hesitation.
He turned to her. “Another man would take offense at how quickly you discount my eligibility.”
She raised her brows at him. “Another man might be less of a cad than you are, my lord.”
He thought of the events in the public hallway downstairs and refrained from argument.
“Where will you go?” Mary asked.
“North. And quickly.”
Mary worried her lip, considering them both. “I don’t know that it’s proper for you to leave without chaperone, my lady.”
King was certain he hadn’t heard the girl correctly.
Sophie shook her head. “I preferred Mrs. Matthew.”
“But you’re not Mrs. Matthew. You’re an earl’s daughter. You should have a companion.”
“I have the marquess.”
Mary cut him a look. “I’m no highborn lady, but even I know he’s not an acceptable chaperone.”
If the girl only knew half of it.
“He’ll do fine,” Sophie said. “The marquess doesn’t even care for me.”
Mary looked from Sophie to King,