The Reluctant Countess (3 page)

Of course the problem was that at one time, Sophie had been one of them, and Letty, feeling that Sophie would be more secure surrounded by faces she knew, had enlisted a handful of them to accompany her to London.

“Now, Soph … I mean Countess, Lady Carstairs has asked that we keep an eye on you,” said Robbie as his eyes creased at the corners and his head tilted slightly to the side. His expression was
similar to that of an adult addressing a small truculent child. “That Jack Spode made those nasty threats before we left Monmouth and Lady Carstairs says we must always be on the lookout in case he tries to harm you.”

Sophie shivered at the mention of Jack Spode’s name. He was a part of her past she wanted to forget, yet the memories of his physical threats and verbal tirades were still as clear in her mind as if they had taken place only yesterday. Drawing in deep, steadying breaths, Sophie pushed thoughts of him aside—she would not allow that man to spoil her day.

“I will walk the length of these shops.” Sophie waved one gloved hand to indicate the buildings before her. “Please meet me there,” she added, pointing to the end.

Ignoring the clucking coming from Robbie, Sophie turned on her heel and walked into the first shop. She did not often go out on her own, and most especially not into fashion establishments. Today, however, she wanted to get Letty a gift, something special that went a small way toward thanking her for all she had done for Timmy and herself.

She found just the thing in a display of brooches. It had the two things Letty cherished most—roses and diamonds. Miniature versions of three long-stemmed pink roses were bound with white gold and centered with a sparking gem. It was beautiful and simple; everything that her sister-in-law would love.

With her purchase wrapped and tucked safely in her reticule, Sophie collected Jenny and started toward the shop with the knickknacks. She had first noticed it when Letty had brought her shopping two days after they had arrived in London. Back then, Sophie had been too terrified of the big city to explore it. Now, she was more than ready. The sign in the window said D
RAVEN’S
D
ELIGHTS
, and a small bell tinkled as she walked inside.

“Welcome, my lady,” a voice called, and Sophie’s eyes searched around the room for its owner. “My name is Mr. Draven, please feel free to look your fill.”

Sophie clenched her teeth together to stop her jaw dropping open. He was tiny. She was not overly tall herself, but this man reached her chin. He wore a vibrant yellow jacket and white knee breeches. So many colors made up his waistcoat that Sophie did not even try to catalogue them. His
hair was pulled forward in the latest style and formed a frame for a sweet cherubic face decorated with a pair of startling blue eyes. He was a strange combination of adult and child.

Nodding, she headed for the first glass cabinet, her eyes already feasting on its many delights. This one housed small figures of birds and animals, but it was the next one that caught her attention.

“Do you have a house at your residence that you wish to furnish?” Mr. Draven queried.

“House?” Sophie reluctantly pulled her eyes from the cabinet.

“Small domicile for your little people,” Mr.Draven urged, pointing to several dolls sitting on the shelves before them.

Sophie looked at him blankly.

“Doll’s house,” he prompted.

“Oh no, I have yet to obtain one,” she whispered, taking the small doll Mr. Draven handed her. It had wheat-gold curls and blue eyes made of glass and was dressed in a long white nightgown as if ready for bed. It was perfect in every way, right down to the little fingernails, which were painted pink. Lifting first the arms and then the legs, Sophie knew she had never wanted anything quite so much in her life, then immediately felt silly for her reactions. A doll at her age? What was she thinking?

“You must buy it!”

Clutching the doll close, Sophie turned to see who was standing behind her.

“Sorry, I did not mean to frighten you. I am Miss Pette; we have not been introduced, but I have often seen you at social gatherings.”

“Of course.” Sophie sank into a curtsy. “I have seen you also. How do you do?”

“I have a doll’s house that Mama says I spend far too much time with for a grown woman. However, it is not a child’s love I have for my collection, but that of a woman who admires something so perfect,” Miss Pette said with a wide smile that made her brown eyes twinkle. “Like someone who collects fine art or books, I just like to look at them, not play with them. Would you like to come and see it some time?”

Sophie thought she would like nothing more than to visit with Miss Pette and see her doll’s house, and was very surprised by the observation. She was usually on guard with strangers.

“Of course, I realize you are a countess and therefore would not be interested in seeing my doll collection …”

“No!” Sophie rushed in, noting that Miss Pette suddenly looked uncomfortable. “Please, I would love to see it.”

“Really?”

“Really,” Sophie reiterated.

She could be very pretty, Sophie thought, looking at the young woman before her. She remembered seeing her sitting with the other girls who sat around the walls night after night, often never receiving an offer to dance. The few times Sophie had noticed her, her dark auburn hair was pulled back in a severe knot with little or no adornment and her gowns were shapeless, doing little to enhance her figure. Not that Sophie was any great authority on fashion, but she had learned a little in her time as a countess.

She guessed Miss Pette was close to her own twenty-two years, well past marriageable age.

“Is this not the most beautiful little jacket you have ever seen? I have just the young man for it; his name is Charles.” Miss Pette held up a tiny coat.

Sophie moved forward to examine the intricately sewn little garment.

The next hour flew by for Sophie as she and Miss Pette, who had urged Sophie to call her Amelia, oohed and ahhed over the contents of every cabinet. By the time Jenny had intervened and drawn attention to the time, the two ladies had become firm friends.

“I shall look forward to your visit, Sophie.” Amelia gave her a quick hug before rushing out of the shop with her maid behind her.

With her doll clasped under one arm, Sophie said goodbye to the now smiling Mr. Draven, then started toward the place where the carriage waited. Meeting Amelia had been wonderful and for once Sophie had not been tongue-tied and forced into her habitual haughty behavior.

“Countess, what a pleasant surprise to find you here, and all alone.”

Every muscle in Sophie’s body clenched at the nasal drawl. Shooting a glance up the road, she thought briefly of picking up her skirts and fleeing to safety. Instead, she wiped all expression from her face, drew in a deep breath, and turned.

“My lord.” She slipped into an elegant curtsy.

“I am surprised my aunt lets her most treasured possession out unescorted.”

Ignoring the snigger coming from the female clasping his arm, Sophie lifted her chin and looked at her cousin by marriage. He was a most repulsive individual. Greasy slicked-back hair and small beady eyes that darted in several directions, a loathsome creature Sophie had every reason not to trust.

“Thank you, my lord, it is truly a compliment to hear you call me a treasured possession,” Sophie said, composing her features into a blatantly false smile.

“I meant no compliment, madam!” Viscount Myles Dumbly snapped. Small drops of spittle flew from his mouth and Sophie instinctively took a step backward. He followed.

“You have ruined my life, Countess, and you will pay for that!”

Even standing on a busy street with people walking around her, Sophie suddenly felt very alone. Jenny was behind her, but really, what could she do if Myles threatened her physically? No, Sophie was alone. Looking out the corner of her eye, she tried to find Robbie, but could see no sign of her carriage. Retreat was her only option, for although she could defend herself if need be, Myles would surely hold the advantage and without Letty she was not safe with the viscount. His stance was threatening and his eyes filled with rage.

“I fail to see how I have ruined your life, my lord, when upon the death of my husband you inherited a title that comes with several properties and a more than substantial remuneration,” Sophie stated as calmly as she could. “Now I must return to my carriage. Please excuse me.” Her heart was beating so hard it hurt.

“Not so fast, Countess; I will have my say!”

Sophie felt her fragile newfound confidence shatter as the Viscount released his companion and grabbed her arm.

“Un … unhand me at once, sir.” Sophie knew her words sounded desperate, fear clawed at her throat as she struggled to control her breathing.

“I will uncover the truth, Countess, and then you will be sorry … very, very sorry.”

She tugged her arm, but he would not release her.

“I did not gain the title I wanted! I should have been the Earl of Monmouth and inherited all the estates, yet I received a mere portion of what should rightfully have been mine.” He pushed his faced closer to hers until only inches separated them.

Sophie wondered how a street that had until recently been filled with people could now suddenly seem so devoid of them.

“I knew nothing of you until my uncle passed away!” Myles continued, his fingers biting into her arm. “You changed his will, you and that reprobate aunt of mine.”

“Do not dare speak of Letty like that!” Sophie felt her own anger rise at the mention of her sister-in-law. She would protect Letty with her life if need be.

“Countess, I believe your carriage awaits you.”

Sophie jumped as a hand cupped her elbow. Looking up, she encountered the black eyes of the Earl of Coulter and thought fleetingly of fainting. Dear lord, not him. Now she was humiliated as well as terrified.
But now you are safe, Sophie
, a small voice in her head reminded her. Myles would not harm her with the large earl beside her.

“Thank you, my lord, I … I ah …”

“Say goodbye to your cousin, Countess,” Patrick said, interrupting her. “Your driver is struggling to contain the horses.”

Patrick looked down his nose at Myles, his eyes moving from the man’s flushed face to the hand he still had clenched on the countess’ arm.

“Release her, Myles … now,” he said in a soft tone, which made all the hair on Sophie’s neck stand up. “Or I will break your fingers.” This last remark brought gasps from Myles’s female companion, who was now batting her eyelashes shamelessly at the earl.

Upon hearing Patrick’s words, color flooded the viscount’s face. By the widening of his eyes, it was clear that he understood the danger he was in if he did not comply with the request. Unclenching his fingers instantly from Sophie’s arm, he almost pushed the limb away in his haste to obey the command.

“My name is Viscount Dumbly,” Myles stuttered.

“Old habits die hard it seems, Myles,” Patrick said, taking Sophie’s hand. “To me, you will always be that sniveling, obsequious little weasel whom I knew at Eton. Just be glad I do not tell these two ladies your nickname.”

“You would not dare!”

“You know better than to dare me, Myles.”

“Shall we, Countess?” Patrick then asked the countess, his eyes still on Viscount Dumbly, who was now stuttering, like a simpleton.

“Thank you, my lord,” she whispered. Patrick got the feeling she was relieved to have escaped, even if he was her rescuer.

Patrick was not sure what he had interrupted, but the anger that had emanated from Myles was very real. He had wanted to plant his fist in the viscount’s face as he noted the fierce grip he had had on the countess’s arm. She would have a bruise tomorrow, and that thought made him unaccountably angry, which did not sit well as his own intent was to humiliate her by exposing her as a charlatan.

The Monmouth carriage had alerted Patrick that Sophie or Letty was nearby, so instead of riding past to visit his club as he had originally intended, he had stopped and deliberately tracked her down, intent on using the opportunity to question her further.

Her skirts brushed his legs as they walked and he knew she was unaware of how close she was to his side. Patrick could feel her tremors and he fought the need to wrap his arms around her. Her scent teased him, as did the smooth skin at the nape of her neck beneath her bonnet. His throat went dry at the prospect of running his lips over the soft surface.

She looked alluring today in cream muslin with sprigs of apple blossom, her pelisse in a matching shade. In the light of day she appeared sweet and approachable, worlds away from the ice
maiden she was in the evening. He wondered which was the true countess and was angry with himself for caring. Patrick didn’t care for people—his parents had taught him that.

“Are you recovered, Countess?”

“Yes, thank you, my lord.”

Patrick had to lean slightly toward her to hear her whispered words, and he instantly regretted the gesture as he inhaled another lungful of her scent, a subtle hint of roses blended with something he couldn’t put his finger on. Whatever it was, the effect was more disturbing than anything he had smelt before. Hell, he was in trouble.

“My carriage is here, my lord.”

Patrick opened the door and helped her and the maid inside. He deliberately kept hold of Sophie’s hand so she could not pull away. Forcing her to look at him, he held her gaze.

“Until tonight, Countess.” He then lifted her hand to his lips and at the last minute pulled down her glove and kissed her wrist.

“G-good day, my lord,” Sophie stammered as he pulled back and quietly shut the carriage door.

“Dear lord,” Sophie whispered placing her parcels beside her and leaning back against the seat. The heat from his kiss made her hand tingle. He was dangerous to her; he made her forget to think and that was deadly to a woman in her position.

“He is a fine gentleman, my lady.”

Sophie did not answer, because she was of the same opinion as her maid; Lord Coulter was indeed a fine gentleman, and one she must keep at a distance from this moment on.