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He left his bedroom and stepped into the living room. “Who is it?”
“Me.”
Sophia?
Adrenaline hit him so hard he nearly stumbled. He went shakily to the door, not quite believing it until he saw her, dressed in her beige mac, smiling shyly up at him.
“What…? Why…? Hello.”
“I’m here to pay the piper. Or rather, Rose did. I just got the housekeeper to wake your father and present him with a cheque for forty-five thousand pounds from Rose Orton-Grey. He can’t refuse that. I should tell you though that neither your father nor your housekeeper is my biggest fan right now.”
“Fuck them,” said Jay, with feeling. “But, Soph… How? Why…?”
“Because your father would hold his suspicions over you forever if you suddenly presented him with a cheque. Or if I did. But he can’t suspect anything nefarious with a duke’s aunt funding things. Don’t worry. She doesn’t know a thing. Other than that we’re friends. I paid her the money.”
“Friends,” repeated Jay, a little lost. He looked at Soph for a long time, even after she got uncomfortable and started to stare at his feet instead of his face. Then he finally remembered his manners and stepped back, letting her into his sitting room and closing the door behind them.
Sophia walked over to the sofa, but before sitting, she caught sight of his bedroom through the open door—more specifically, the bag on his bed. She went into his room and frowned down at it.
“You’re leaving?”
“I can’t stay here with my parents. We…had a falling out. Worse than usual, I mean.”
“I know. I was there.”
Startled, embarrassed, he met her eye briefly before she looked down at the bag again, touching the leather handle absently. “I was coming after you. I was at the hotel door… I didn’t mean to listen in, but I was shocked…sort of frozen, I guess.”
“I’m sorry you had to see that.”
“Don’t you apologise. Your father is…awful.” She shot him a glance, smiling a little. “I told them they weren’t invited to my party anymore. Another reason I’m not popular around here.”
Jay broke into a grin. “You did? My little Soph stood up to The Viscount Orton?”
“I did. I wish I’d said more. But I was so angry.”
“Soph… That’s more than anyone has ever done for me before. Thank you.”
He wanted to go to her, hold her, get down on his knees and worship her. But she looked sadly down at the bag and something—Simon—held him back.
“Where are you planning on going?” she asked.
“Scotland. To stay with a friend.”
With Tom Brewerly, in fact. He’d messaged him in the early hours of the morning, out of any other ideas. Tom had replied with nothing but two baguette emojis. Jay had no idea what that meant, but he was taking it as a yes.
“Before I came to pay you?”
“I wasn’t going to take your money, Soph.”
“I’m not even going to ask why not, because that’s absurd. But how were you planning on surviving, Jay? How did you even plan on getting to Scotland?”
Jay smiled slightly and picked up some car keys from his bedside table. He tossed them in his hand and caught them. “Stealing my dad’s car, of course.”
Sophia shook her head but laughed. “The Lambo?”
“Only one I can find the keys for.”
“You’re the worst, Jay, but I can’t say he doesn’t deserve it. Anyway, Grand theft auto brings me neatly to my other topic for being here.” She took an envelope from the large pocket of her mac.
