“You’re in the wrong room.” James sniffed his disdain.

“We didn’t know that,” Talia pleaded.

“Hardly inspires confidence.”

“Your people told us—”

Victoria raised a hand, causing both James and Talia to fall silent.

Sophia couldn’t help but feel a little impressed. What she wouldn’t give to silence her detractors with the flick of her wrist. And this woman managed to do so without wearing any of the ridiculous costumes Sophia would have to wear over the course of the film to convey that sort of authority. Victoria managed to speak quietly and dress like an Eddie Bauer catalogue model without undercutting her gravitas.

Then again, she wasn’t playacting at authority. She’d been born into it, which of course was why Sophia wasn’t taken in by her blue jeans and form-fitting cable knit sweater, or those clear blue eyes. She’d seen the full ferocity the others had only witnessed the tail end of. This castle dweller would’ve gladly run her through only moments ago.

Well, she smiled at the memory, maybe not gladly. Sophia made a living by understanding how people conveyed emotions, and Victoria had managed to convey quite a few of them during their brief interaction, most notably a healthy dose of attraction.

“You may be excused on all counts,” Victoria finally said, handing the papers back to Talia. “Except you showed up three months too early.”

“No, we didn’t,” Talia said quickly, then adjusted her tone. “I’m sorry, Your Ladyship, but I beg to differ.”

Sophia rolled her eyes again at the forced formality. Talia Stamos was known as a bit of a ballbuster in the movie business, but she didn’t act the part now, as she practically grovelled before this rich heiress. Though to be fair, the begging may have had less to do with the woman’s station and more to do with the fact that Victoria held the keys to the literal castle.

“The contract states we’re supposed to arrive on 7/10,” Talia pressed.

“Exactly, October seventh.”

“No, 7/10 is July tenth . . . unless . . . oh Lord, you all format your dates backwards over here.”

Victoria straightened her shoulders. “Perhaps it’s you who format your dates backwards. We are still in England, are we not?”

Talia raised her hands apologetically. “You’re right, we are, and I want to be respectful, but the contract was written in Los Angeles.”

“And signed here.”

“But also, signed and filed legally in California.”

“And yet, not to belabour the point,” Victoria kept her tone even, “but, the document spells out legal terms for the use of English property.”