The Reluctant Countess (30 page)

“Oh!” Sophie chewed her lip as she looked at Patrick. She was unsure how she felt about him and Stephen discussing her before they married.

“It was not an insult, love.”

“You disliked me when first we met, Patrick; did Stephen feel the same?”

Patrick pushed his plate away before he spoke, uncertain how much to tell her.

“I disliked you, yes, but mostly because even then I was taken with you, my sweet. Stephen just found you hard to converse with, and we both know how much he likes to talk.”

He watched as she laughed, a small sound yet he loved to hear it. She was still too pale for his liking, and the smudges under her eyes told him she had not slept as soundly as she declared. The sling he had bullied her into wearing looked at odds with the pretty lemon muslin dress she wore. It made her appear fragile and vulnerable, and in turn made him angry all over again. If he was truthful, his anger was never far from the surface when he thought about what had happened to his wife. She could have been taken from him, and that thought had the power to shake him more than any other. It been four days since she was shot and he had found no evidence of Spode. Mac believed it was a poacher who caught Sophie with a stray bullet, and Patrick’s inquiries didn’t suggest otherwise, yet Patrick still felt that Spode was involved in some way.

“Just a rest, sweetheart. Even if you do not sleep, at least lie down for a while.”

Patrick’s tone was coaxing and Sophie just bet he had undone plenty of buttons and lifted several skirts in the past with that particular note in his voice.

“But my bottom aches from lying down, my heels hurt from lying on my back, and my back aches from so little movement,” Sophie said, glaring at him when inside she wanted to smile. Her husband was giving her a gentle understanding look that she was far too susceptible to. He was far too used to having his own way and it was not hard to see why, handsome devil, she thought waspishly.

“I could rub it for you.” Patrick’s expression was innocent, but one only had to look into his eyes to note the naughty twinkle in the dark depths.

Sophie rolled her eyes, then snorted in a very unladylike manner.

“Especially your delightful bottom,” Patrick said, then laughed as Sophie turned pink.

“A carriage has arrived, my lord,” Ribble said, appearing in the doorway.

“Timmy!” Sophie squealed, jumping to her feet and wincing as her arm tugged viciously.

“Bloody hell, woman!” Patrick roared, coming around the table. “I will tie you to that bed if you do not take more care,” he added, pulling her into his arms.

“Sorry,” she mumbled from the depths of Patrick’s chest. Sophie had decided, after spending some time there, that it was the safest and most comfortable place in the world. Resting against all that strength and heat made her feel very feminine and special.

“You must take more care, love. I do not want Stephen’s handiwork coming undone.”

“No,” Sophie whispered, “I would not like to have to go through that again.”

“Amen,” Patrick declared, as a vivid memory of that night flashed again through his head. “Come, we must greet our guests,” he added, placing a light kiss on her mouth.

* * *

Sophie gave a little cry of delight as she and Patrick walked outside and saw who was climbing down from the carriage behind Mary and Letty, holding Timmy in her arms.

“Mellie!”

Timmy squealed as he heard his sister’s voice and wriggled until Amelia lowered him to the ground. Sophie laughed as he ran toward her, his little legs pumping and gaining speed. She met him halfway and would have picked him up except Patrick beat her to it.

“Your arm.” He lifted Timmy and threw him into the air, which produced more happy squeals from the little boy.

Sophie kissed her brother as Patrick settled him against his shoulder. “Hello, my darling boy,” she said, tickling his chin and kissing his cheeks loudly, which had him laughing more.

Timmy decided he liked all the attention and fastened one hand in Patrick’s curls and the other in Sophie’s.

“Ouch!” both said at once.

“Brat!” Patrick said and then blew a loud, foul-sounding noise into the soft skin of Timmy’s neck, producing another delightful chorus of giggles.

Untangling her hair from his pudgy fingers Sophie gave them another kiss and turned to face her friend.

“Sophie, what has happened to your arm?”

“Mellie, what are you doing here?”

Both girls laughed as they spoke in unison.

“We have much to tell you,” Letty said, moving forward to kiss Sophie and wrap a welcoming arm around her waist. “But I think by the look of you, my dear, you should be sitting down, and I would like to be seated with a pot of tea before we begin,” she finished.

“Excellent idea, Lady Carstairs,” Patrick said, with Timmy nestled happily in the crook of his arm and one small arm clasped around his neck.

Sophie thought they looked beautiful together, one blond, one black-haired, and both very special to her.

They went to the small lounge that had windows looking out over the garden. It was Sophie’s favorite room so far, not that she had seen much of her new home, but this room was filled with light all day. The walls were in the softest duck egg blue, the rugs a shade darker, and the furniture was comfortable and elegant.

Patrick waited until the women were seated, then lowered Timmy onto the sofa beside his wife. Timmy immediately climbed onto his sister’s lap and snuggled against her chest. Patrick envied
him and his youthful ability to do that with so many people in the room. If he tried the same trick, he would be hurled bodily from the house, he thought, looking longingly at Sophie’s breasts.

“If you will excuse me, ladies, I have a few things that I must attend to,” he said, kissing his wife’s cheek and making another disgusting sound on Timmy’s. Surprisingly, he had enjoyed the soft weight in his arms; Timmy had smelled like his cousin’s children. Patrick often visited them, as he found they were uncomplicated and wanted no more from him than he was willing to give, thus he was their favorite uncle—and of course the gifts helped. Patrick thought that perhaps he would enjoy having Timmy in his life.

“I shall inform Ribble that you require tea, Sophie,” he added with a bow before leaving the room.

“You first, Mellie,” Sophie said as soon as the door closed behind Patrick. She was in no hurry to tell the story of her injured arm again, so she urged her friend to begin.

“I would rather hear your story,” Amelia said, looking everywhere but at Sophie.

She was embarrassed and uncomfortable, Sophie could see as she watched color creep into her friend’s cheeks.

“Come, Amelia, tell Sophie your tale,” Letty said, patting her hand.

“I have left Mother, Sophie, and I will not be returning.”

Now
that
she had not expected, Sophie thought.

“I am sorry to arrive unannounced and you having only just married Lord Coulter,” Amelia rushed on. “But she said some horrible things about both you and Lady Carstairs, very mean things that made me angry. Sh-she started criticizing my clothes, calling me nasty vicious n-names … oh dear,” Amelia said as she started to cry.

Letty handed the distraught girl her handkerchief while Sophie reached for Amelia’s hand, giving it a gentle squeeze.

“Amelia arrived just minutes before we were to leave London,” Letty said.

“I … I ran away,” Amelia took up the story once more. “Mother sent me to my room after I took tea with her in one of my new gowns. She called me S-Satan’s whore, and said she was going to church to pray for my black soul.”

“How dare she!” Sophie was outraged that Mrs. Pette would speak to her only child in such a way, especially as Amelia was the sweetest, most kindhearted young lady she had ever encountered.

“I packed up all my new clothes into three large valises, then ordered a carriage to take me to Lady Carstairs’s house,” Amelia added with a small sniff. “I had nowhere else to go you see, Sophie.”

“Of course you should have gone to Letty,” Sophie said firmly. “I would have been very angry had I found out you had done any differently. You are the sister I never had, Mellie.”

“Oh dear,” Amelia cried into her handkerchief, Sophie’s words making her sob even harder. “I always wanted a sister.”

“I was on the verge of leaving as she arrived, and offered to bring her with me,” Letty said, taking up the conversational reins. “I left a letter for her mother explaining our destination and when we would be returning.”

“I am so sorry, Mellie.” Sophie felt the sting of tears in her own eyes at her friend’s obvious distress.

“I … I had come to realize that she would never have allowed me to change, Sophie, and I am hoping that by running away I will shock her in some way.”

Sophie was skeptical but did not show it; instead she looked down at the blond head of her brother and thanked anyone who was listening for the gift of her family, and most especially, Patrick.

“Thank you, Ribble,” Sophie said, as the butler placed a large tea tray on the table before her. “Could you please pour, Letty?”

“Of course, and now perhaps you will tell us about your arm, Sophie,” Letty said as she started serving the tea.

“There is not much to tell, I am afraid. I was out walking while Patrick had gone riding, and someone was poaching. The bullet went straight through my arm,” Sophie said quickly and looked away from Letty.

“Hmmm,” Letty murmured, as she sat back to drink her tea. Sophie knew she would be questioned thoroughly later by her sister-in-law until she was satisfied with the answers Sophie had given her.

“But have the poachers been caught, Sophie?” Amelia said as she reached for her own tea and took a fortifying sip.

“Patrick has men working toward that right now, Mellie.” Sophie tried to smother a yawn. She was feeling very tired and her arm had begun to ache like the devil. Suddenly her whole body seemed to weigh far too much, even her toes felt ridiculously heavy.

“Has a doctor tended you, dear?” Letty said, reaching for Timmy, as the boy was starting to wriggle and she did not want him to hurt Sophie further.

“Yes,” Sophie whispered, then leaned her head back and closed her eyes, just for a few seconds, just until this wave of fatigue passed.

Patrick walked back from the stables deep in thought. Mac had found a brace of birds and several other incriminating items, which suggested that whoever had shot Sophie was a poacher, but he was uncertain. Patrick hoped that was indeed the case, but something niggled at him, telling him that Jack Spode was behind it. Walking inside, he headed straight for Sophie. If necessary, he would bully her into lying down.

“Ssssh,” a voice said to him as he opened the door.

Lady Carstairs held a finger to her lips and pointed to Sophie, who was sitting upright with her eyes closed.

“She has just fallen asleep, my lord,” Amelia said in a loud whisper.

He didn’t stop to talk, just lifted his sleeping wife into his arms, offered the room a smile, and left.

Sophie woke as Patrick started to undo the buttons on her dress. “It seems you were right, my lord,” she said, yawning and turning on her side to give him better access.

“That will teach you to disobey me.” Patrick eased the dress off her arms, Sophie hissed as he touched her injured arm, and Patrick flinched, feeling her pain in the pit of his stomach.

“I am even too tired to be provoked.” Sophie sounded drowsy. “Thank you for taking care of me,” she added and then her eyelids fluttered closed.

“Sleep well, sweetheart.” Patrick bent to place a kiss on her cheek and tried valiantly not to follow his instinct, which was to lie beside her and pull her into his arms.

“Hmmm,” Sophie whispered, then “I love you,” and promptly fell asleep.

“I love you, too, sweetheart,” he whispered, standing once again.

Patrick shook his head as he looked down at his sleeping wife. Would she ever tell him she loved him while she was awake? He would have to push her into a declaration, he decided as he forced himself to leave the room, and then he would do the same.

Stephen arrived at Plentiful later that afternoon. He was still feeling disgruntled and wasn’t sure why. He had left London because of a woman, but he was damned if he was ready to share his feelings with Patrick. His mother and sisters thought he had been called away on urgent estate business, but the truth was that he was a coward. Finally, after all these years, a woman had managed to get under his skin, and Stephen had run like a scared rabbit.

Handing his mount to Mac with a distracted smile, he walked to the house. Maybe he would talk with Sophie when she was better; perhaps she could shed some light on his predicament.

Whistling softly, he veered right to take the long route to the house, which led him through part of the gardens. He liked the Plentiful gardens, they weren’t filled with flowers and borders like his own, courtesy of his sisters and mother. Instead, these were slightly untamed. They gave the appearance of manicured lawns and trimmed plants, but if one looked closer there was a wilder side, not unlike its owner.

His booted feet were muffled by the soft grass, so the woman who appeared some distance before him had no idea he was even there. Stephen stopped so as not to frighten her, then he couldn’t make his legs move when he realized that it was the very female he had fled London to avoid. She turned away without noticing him and walked deeper into the gardens. Stephen tried to force air back into his lungs. What the hell was Amelia Pette doing here? He hadn’t seen her face, but he would have known her anywhere; the slight tilt of her head when she was thinking, the long auburn curls that caught in the afternoon sun.

“You are in so much trouble, Sumner,” Stephen muttered as he instinctively began to follow her.

Of course the fault lay entirely with Sophie, damn her pretty neck. She had taken Amelia in hand, changed her modiste, changed her hair … actually changed everything. Now the male population of London all noticed Miss Pette, all panted after her like a pack of rabid dogs, Stephen
included. He was not so shallow that he hadn’t noticed Amelia before. She had always made him feel like a cat with his hair rubbed the wrong way, challenging him, tilting her chin and giving him a superior look. Now, however, she more than intrigued him, she made his blood heat, and he wanted her more with every breath he drew.