“I believe,” the marquess said, “Miss Martin and her charges came inside before I did.” The landlord did an admirable job of starting with amazement as if the three of them had just materialized out of invisibility. Claudia fairly quivered with indignation—most of it, quite unfairly perhaps, directed at the Marquess of Attingsborough, who was not at all to blame for the fact that she had been considered a mere nobody until it became clear that a real live marquess knew her name. But she certainly had not needed anyone to speak up for her. “Miss Martin?” the landlord said, smiling jovially at her. She did not smile back. “I have your rooms ready for you, ma’am. You may go up immediately.” “Thank—” Claudia got no further. “I trust,” the marquess said, “they are the best rooms in the house?” “All our rooms are superior, my lord,” the landlord assured him. “But the front rooms have been reserved by Mr. Cosman and his cousin.” The marquess had come to stand just behind Claudia’s shoulder. She could not see his face, but she could see the landlord’s. The marquess did not say another word, but after a moment the landlord cleared his throat. “But I am quite certain,” he said, “the two gentlemen will be only too happy to give up their rooms for the use of such charming ladies and take the two overlooking the stable yard instead.” Where Claudia had stayed each time she had put up at this inn before. She remembered a great deal of noise and light in those small rooms all night long, robbing her of sleep. “The ladies must certainly have the front rooms,” the landlord said, smiling once more at Claudia. “I must insist upon it.” As if she had argued against it. And yet perversely she wanted to argue and she wanted those inferior rooms. She would not be beholden to the Marquess of Attingsborough for more comfortable rooms. Good heavens, she was an independent woman. She di d not need any man to fight her battles. “And you have a private dining room?” he asked before she could say a word.