The Reluctant Countess (2 page)

“Yes, Melton told me of your visit, my lord.” Letty had a soft smile on her face. “It pleased him greatly to see you one last time; he cared for your grandmother deeply.”

Three days! Oh dear, this was not good
. Lowering her eyes to the Earl of Coulter’s slate and ivory satin waistcoat, Sophie fought for calm.

“I did not have the pleasure of seeing you there, Countess, or the current earl, your son.”

Sophie’s tongue quite suddenly seemed to swell to twice its normal size, thereby blocking anything articulate from leaving her mouth. “Ah … ah,” she stammered.

“Indeed, my lord, my sister-in-law and nephew were visiting a friend with me at that time. I am very fond of them both,” Letty said steadily, her eyes never leaving the earl’s face. Patrick had the distinct impression that he had just been warned off by Lady Carstairs, for there was a decidedly militant look in her faded blue eyes.

“Ah of course, well, that explains their absence then,” he replied in an appeasing tone, not believing a word the old lady said but choosing to leave the matter alone, for now.

Patrick once again smiled, noting that the countess had gone very still. She seemed very uncertain and gripped by a sort of fear as she drew herself inward and appeared almost statuelike.

“May I have this dance, Countess?” he asked noticing her admirers closing in from both sides.

“Of course, my lord,” Sophie said, relieved that she did not stutter.

Even her voice was pure sin, Patrick thought. She spoke in a soft little growl that made all his senses stand to attention. She did not possess the cultured drawl that others affected. Leading her onto the floor, he was pleased when the first strains of a waltz floated through the air. Swinging her into his arms Patrick used unnecessary force and was rewarded with her soft body pressing against his.

“Excuse me, my lord, I … um slipped.” Sophie placed her hands on his chest to lever herself backward. Muscles clenched beneath her fingers and she quickly drew them back. Even through her evening gloves, she could feel the heat from his solid chest.

“The fault was mine, Countess, please accept my apologies.”

Sophie lowered her head and concentrated on the shiny buttons of his waistcoat. He was toying with her—there was a knowing gleam in his eyes. The man had a way of reducing her to a mass of quivering nerves in seconds.
Find your backbone, Sophie
, she could hear Letty’s voice inside her head.

Patrick had an urge to wind one of her black satin curls around his fingers; he wanted to explore the scent and texture of it.

“How does your son fare here in London, Countess?” He could almost believe her free of treachery when she looked at him with such an innocent expression in her beautiful eyes. The deep green of leaves after rainfall, they appeared clear of deceit. He waited for her to offer a polite but singular comment in reply to his question, as was her standard response to most questions.

“He is well, my lord. His aunt and I took him on his first London adventure,” she said, offering him a wide smile. “Yesterday we visited the museum and Gunter’s Tea Shop, I fear Gunter’s, with its delicious iced delicacies, was by far the best treat.”

Patrick realized this was the first time he had seen such a look of joy on her face. It was also the first time he had noted her dimples, which told him she did not laugh freely. Rarely had he heard more than a few words spill from her lips. Obviously, the love she felt for her son was very real.

“He is very lucky to have such a caring mother, Countess.” Patrick watched the smile fall from her lips as he spoke.

“It is I who am lucky, my lord; both Timothy and Lady Carstairs are very special to me.”

Another warning;
Patrick noted the flicker of anger in her eyes. What was she hiding? He would find out—that was never in doubt. Patrick had spied for the Foreign Office and had been very good at his job. By comparison, discovering the countess’s secrets should not be overly taxing. Spinning her in a turn, he felt her evening slipper land on top of his shoe.

“Forgive me, my lord!”

He had noticed that dancing was something she did well, yet was not comfortable with, as if she had only been doing it for a short time.

“The fault was mine, Countess,” he said, steadying her. He had caught her counting steps at the Belton soiree three nights ago. She, of course, had responded to his raised brow of inquiry with the elevation of one haughty eyebrow of her own and then had continued dancing beautifully, making him wonder if he had imagined the entire episode. Patrick almost applauded the air of disdain. He had noted the slight tilt of her head to avoid direct eye contact when she was uncomfortable. She spoke
only when necessary, and then as little as possible. The countess was an accomplished actress, but Patrick was not fooled. He might want her in his bed, but that did not alter the fact that she was a charlatan and he was going to expose her as such.

“I would be honored if you would allow me to take you driving through the park on Wednesday afternoon, Countess.” Patrick tightened his grip as she stumbled again.

“I … ah …”

“Excellent.” As if he had commanded it, the music ceased and Patrick quickly led her back to Lady Carstairs.

“Thank you, my lord, for the dance,” Sophie said, finally finding her voice.

“The pleasure was all mine, Countess.”

“I am afraid I must decline your invitation for Wednesday afternoon …”

“What invitation, my dear?” Letty asked, joining her sister-in-law and instinctively placing her hand in Sophie’s.

“I have invited the countess to come driving with me on Wednesday, Lady Carstairs.”

“Oh, but of course you must go, my dear,” Letty urged, completely oblivious to Sophie’s distress.

“B-but did we not promise to take Timmy to the park on Wednesday?”

“I will take Timmy,” Letty said firmly. “We will look forward to your visit, my lord. You may call for Sophie at two o’clock.”

Patrick smiled, then bowed and walked away.

“Calls to mind a large jungle cat, all feral grace and beauty,” Letty whispered.

“He suspects something, Letty, I am sure of it,” Sophie chewed her bottom lip.

“Stop gnawing on your lip, dear. He may suspect, but what can he do? My brother died two years ago and shortly before that he married you. We have the certificate to prove it and even the powerful Earl of Coulter can do little to change that and why would he bother?” Squeezing Sophie’s hand, she continued. “I think it is you he is interested in and that makes you nervous, and who would not be when confronted by such a man. Why, he makes me feel quite heated all over.”

“Letty, you are wicked.”

“I may be old, child, however I am not dead.”

“Old,” Sophie scoffed. “I think you use that as an excuse when you wish to manipulate me.”

Laughing, Letty merely waved her fingers at Sophie and walked toward her friend Lady Beatrice Bottomley. Her parting words caused Sophie’s lips to twitch. “So my late husband often told me, dear. Now get ready, you are about to have company … lots of it.”

Soon Sophie’s hand was claimed and she was quite content to dance each set; at least then she barely had to speak and could do little to trip herself up should a difficult question arise.

Sophie was never at her best in the morning. She watched Letty pull funny faces across the breakfast table at Timmy. His high-pitched squeals of delight had her wincing and then reaching for another fortifying sip of tea.

“I am still astounded you managed to hold a maid’s position in Melton’s household for so many years, Sophie.”

Stifling a yawn, Sophie took another sip of tea before she responded. “It is the late nights. When I was in service, I am sure I got a lot more sleep than I currently do.”

Letty watched her sister-in-law miss her mouth completely and tip several drops of liquid down the front of her dress. It really was some feat that Sophie had managed to fool the highest-ranking members of society. Handing Timmy a piece of toast, she then offered Sophie her own napkin, as hers was now soaked with tea.

“Did you burn yourself?”

“No, but I fear this dress will need another wash.”

By day, Sophie, Countess of Monmouth, struggled to maintain the appearance that her position in society demanded. Letty watched a long curl pull free of its pins to trail down Sophie’s spine. She often walked around their town house in a state of disrepair, and only made a move to rectify this if she was out in society.

“I am sure Miss Lloyd will be able to remove the stain, dear, do not fret,” Letty said, handing Timmy another finger of toast.

“I wonder if she has heard of …”

“If you recite another recipe for stain removal or boot-blacking in my presence, young lady, I will be sorely vexed.” Letty softened her words with a smile.

“ ’Tis who I was for many years.”

“But it is not who you are now,” Letty added firmly.

Sophie nodded and began to nibble her own toast, while Letty read the morning paper and fed Timmy at the same time.

“Fee, Fee!” Timmy squealed waving a finger of toast at Sophie, who in turn poked out her tongue, which had him gurgling with laughter.

“M-may I have the carriage, Letty? I wish to visit Morton’s bookstore this morning.”

“Of course, dear. Bea is visiting and we will take Timmy into the gardens while you are gone.” Sophie beamed at her, given the prospect of a new book.

Letty, too, still felt momentary qualms over what they had achieved two years ago, but her qualms were not the same as Sophie’s. She felt no shame over the efforts the two women had undertaken to secure their futures and that of Timmy. Letty’s only worry was for Sophie and her ability to keep up the façade she was now forced to endure for the rest of the season. Letty noticed that Sophie rarely stuttered now, unless she was agitated or upset. Looking at the dark smudges under her sister-in-law’s eyes, she knew the toll each evening took upon her. Not once had Sophie slipped up; everyone now thought of her as the unattainable Countess of Monmouth. They had certainly practiced for many hours, and in this her sister-in-law had been diligent, studying every book Letty had given her and following every step she was taught.

“You must buy as many books as you like, Sophie, you know money is no object.”

Lifting Timmy from his chair, Sophie busied herself wiping his hands.

“I know, Letty, but it does not come easily to me … this … this spending,” she whispered into Timmy’s curls.

“Now, dear, we have been through this before.”

Timmy was now clutching several handfuls of Sophie’s hair, his laughter making both women smile.

“I know—it just never gets any easier.”

“Are you unhappy, Sophie?”

Silence greeted Letty’s words as she watched Sophie ruffle Timmy’s hair and blow on his cheek, something the young boy loved. Seeing them together, a picture of youth and innocence,
merely reinforced Letty’s belief that the decisions she had made to secure all their futures had indeed been the right ones.

Letty had lost her husband more than ten years ago. He had woken one morning complaining of chest pains and by nightfall her beloved Henry was dead. Unfortunately, they had not been blessed with children; therefore, Letty had been left with neither money nor a home. Henry’s nephew had inherited everything she had believed hers and had not offered to provide for Letty. Were it not for her brother’s insistence that she live with him, she would have been destitute.

“Sophie?” Letty prompted when the girl remained quiet.

“I am not unhappy. How could I be when Timmy and I no longer face a future of poverty?” Lowering Timmy to the floor, she watched him walk unsteadily round the table. “It is just that I am so scared of failing you in some way. I fear exposure, and then the ridicule and humiliation that would surely follow.”

“Oh Sophie …”

“Not for us, Letty, but for you,” Sophie rushed to add. “I think the sooner I can leave London and retire to Monmouth, the better for us all.”

Letty clasped her sister-in-law’s hands before she spoke. “Now you listen to me, child, for I will only say this once more.”

Sophie nodded, her eyes solemn.

“You have given me something I never thought to have, a family to love as my own. I have happiness in my life, and you and Timmy have given me this. I can also live my life in society, Sophie, amongst friends whom I hold dear, and this, too, would have been denied me had we not wed you to my brother.”

A single tear trailed down one of Sophie’s cheeks as she looked into the face of her dear friend.

“Oh, Letty, you must know that Timmy and I love you, too.”

Both women stood and embraced, and it was Letty who spoke next.

“Now I want to hear nothing further on this matter, child, we will do what must be done in London, then I will see you safely home to Monmouth. Yes?” she finished as she gave Sophie’s shoulders a small shake.

“Yes,” Sophie whispered.

“Now go to Morton’s and then to that shop which has all those funny little knickknacks and dolls you love.”

Sophie looked surprised. “Now how did you know about my interest in dolls and knickknacks?

“I have seen the books in your room, Sophie, and the way you inspect every cabinet and nook of every grand house we enter at night,” Letty said, with a knowing look. “I want you to purchase a doll, Sophie, as I suspect it will be your first.”

Sophie just smiled and then, with Timmy in her arms, she left the room.

* * *

“I wish to visit some other shops, Robbie, if you would like to walk the horses for a while,” Sophie said as she left the bookshop and approached Letty’s carriage.

“You make sure to stick close, Jenny, we don’t want any trouble,” Robbie said to Sophie’s maid as he took her books and placed them in the carriage.

Sophie sighed loudly. It really was too bad that Letty had chosen to use the Monmouth servants to accompany them to London.

“You can count on me, Mr. Robbie,” Jenny declared, coming to stand beside her as if to prove that she was more than equal to the task.

“I will be fine, Robbie, please don’t fuss.”