The Reluctant Countess (23 page)

Letty lowered her glasses as she rested her book on her lap and looked up at the Earl of Coulter. Glancing over at Sophie, she noticed the worried look on her friend’s face and the determined one on the face of the large man before her.

“Hello, Sophie, my lord,” Letty said, swallowing her smile.

At last
, she thought, looking at the pale face of her sister-in-law;
Sophie has found a man worthy of her
.

“Can I offer you some tea, Lord Coulter?” Letty asked, and smiled as he shook his head while Sophie nodded assent, obviously trying to delay the conversation. Rising, Letty rang for tea, then returned to her seat. Clasping her hands in her lap, she looked expectantly at the agitated earl, who was now pacing around the room.

“I wish to ask for Sophie’s hand in marriage, Lady Carstairs,” Patrick said, once again coming to stand before her. “I realize this is highly irregular and in the normal course of events I would apply my request to Viscount Dumbly, but as the man is …”

“A sniveling little rodent with the moral fiber of a bowl of gruel,” Letty supplied helpfully.

Patrick’s snort of laughter startled Sophie, who had been sitting very still, holding her doll.

Letty, however, smiled, her old heart fluttering as she looked at the earl. His smile made his eyes twinkle and his lips twitched and a dimple appeared in his left check. He was a lethal combination of power and virile strength, and it was hardly surprising that many pushy mothers had thrown their daughters into his path.

“You should smile more, my lord,” Letty said.

Patrick looked at Sophie. “I hope to, Lady Carstairs,” he replied. “Do we have your blessing?” he added, once again looking at his future sister-in-law.

“With all my heart,” Letty said, rising to her feet and giving him a quick hug.

“But Letty!” Sophie cried, jumping to her own feet. Surely she had misheard. She had sat quietly waiting, knowing that Letty would explain things to Patrick, yet here she was agreeing with his proposal. “How can you agree to this, Letty? Surely you know that if my … my past were to ever come out, then the earl would be a victim of ridicule. We have both lived with the possibility of that happening and you know it would be horrible for anyone else to endure.” Sophie looked from Letty to Patrick as she spoke.

“I do not think you understand, my lord,” Sophie added, reaching for his arm, anxious that he listen to her. “Your family, whose title and heritage goes back so many years, would be shamed in the eyes of society because of our union, and I could not countenance that.”

No one in Patrick’s family, past or present, had cared for him other than to ensure they received the money he gave them every month. Some cared even less for their titles or reputations—in fact, many had driven the family fortunes into the ground, only to be pulled out again by the next generation. Yet Sophie, Countess of Monmouth or whoever she was, cared about him and his family. It was a steadying thought.

“You must see, my lord, how uncomfortable it would become for you should word get out,” Sophie said, desperate for him to understand.

“Sophie, you hold far more stock in my family’s reputation than I do.” Patrick took the doll from her hands and placed it on a chair before she ripped its head off. “I am a very powerful man and as such you will be protected by my name should your past rear its head.”

“Listen to him, Sophie,” Letty urged, moving to Sophie’s other side.

Sophie looked at him then, up into his handsome face, and knew she was lost. She wanted him and it seemed he wanted her, too.

“Yes,” she whispered. “Yes, I will marry you.” And this time Sophie meant it.

“Oooh, I like this, don’t you, Letty?”

Sophie looked at the lace that Amelia held up for inspection and shook her head, not that it mattered. Letty had very definite opinions about what Sophie’s trousseau and wedding clothes should look like.

She had been woken early the morning after Patrick had asked her to marry him, bustled into a bath, fed, and clothed, and was now on her first shopping exhibition with Letty and Amelia, the latter of whom had been drafted in at the first opportunity. Sophie had, without thinking first, questioned whether there was really a need to purchase a new dress, as surely one of her old ones would suffice? To which Letty had reared back in horror, clutching her chest in what Sophie secretly thought a dramatic fashion, and stated that no family of hers would walk down the aisle dressed like a ragamuffin. And so it had begun, a sort of hysteria bordering on a maniacal need to have everything just so for Sophie’s wedding. Of course she understood Letty was doing this for her, but really, did she need ten new pairs of gloves when she had just as many unused in her room at home?

Madame Fontaine whipped the offending piece of lace from Amelia’s hand and threw it on the floor.

“Non!”
and with a volley of French, she once again disappeared into the back room.

“We must get you some things, Sophie,” Letty said, holding a piece of fabric to Sophie’s chest.

“What things, Letty?”

“How about this one?” Amelia said, draping another piece over the other half of Sophie’s chest.

“Just
things
, Sophie,” Letty said, putting her head on the side. Obviously this helped to choose the correct color, because much to Sophie’s amusement Amelia did the same, the two of them looking like a pair of matching birds.

“Yes, Letty, but what things?” Sophie persisted.

“Amelia be a dear and ask Madame for the same fabric in green,” Letty said.

Sophie watched Amelia bustle away, then turned to look at her sister-in-law. Why all of a sudden did she have a sinking feeling in her tummy?

“Now, Sophie, here is really not the place to discuss this, I had planned a more private setting.”

“Then don’t,” Sophie said desperately. She had a fair idea where this conversation was heading and was eager to cut it off before it began.

“I want to get you some nice night-wear, dear. Something the earl …”

“Do not finish that sentence, Letty!” Sophie gasped.

Letty looked at her red cheeks, smiled, and patted one of them. “All right, but we will be getting you something nice to wear in bed, dear, so resign yourself to throwing away those horrid nightdresses you wear.”

“Letty, stop!”

“The earl is a virile, physical man, Sophie, who will expect your participation in the act of …”

“We … are … in … a … dress shop!”

“Very well.” Letty finally subsided and turned to look at what Madame Fontaine had in her hands.

Shaking her head, Sophie wondered if this day could get any worse. Dear God, her sister-in-law had just discussed marital issues with her in a dress shop.

Finally, they were able to leave, after having ordered everything Letty felt Sophie would need and with the promise of a bonus for Madame Fontaine if all was completed within the two-week period. They then purchased undergarments and hosiery, gloves, and so many other things that Sophie’s head was spinning by the time they had finished.

“Well, that will do for today; we still have two weeks before the wedding, which will give us plenty of time to get the rest,” Letty said, settling herself in the carriage.

“Rest?” Sophie said faintly. “I’m not sure if my feet hurt more or my head!”

“I am twice your age, Sophie, and apparently have more stamina,” Letty said, stacking several parcels. Opening one eye, Sophie glared at her. Yes, she did still look as neat as when she had left the house so many hours ago, unlike Sophie, who was slumped in her seat looking like a used dishrag.

“It will be interesting to see how everyone responds to the announcement of your engagement at the Bradford ball this evening, Sophie,” Amelia said.

“Will it be in the papers already?” Sophie said, sitting upright. She had not thought it would appear so soon.

“Knowing the earl, I should imagine he had it placed immediately. But we will be with you, Sophie,” Amelia added quickly, seeing the horror on her friend’s face, “and the earl will be there, too.”

But would he be there? Hadn’t his last words to her been that he would be busy organizing things for their wedding, so he might not be able to see much of her? Would she have to face the questions and looks on her own?

“Tomorrow we will have many callers, all coming to ask questions and wish you well,” Letty added, which did nothing to ease Sophie’s tension. She did not want to face a room full of interfering women, keen to poke and prod until they got the answers they wanted.

Nothing further was said as they dropped Amelia at home, and when they arrived at Letty’s town house, she forced Sophie to rest. Exhausted, she fell instantly asleep and woke when her maid brought in a dinner tray. Letty came in as she was finishing her meal and began inspecting the gown of pale lavender silk with an ivory overskirt that her maid had laid out for the ball.

“No, I don’t think this will do, we need something that makes more of a statement.”

Still sitting up in bed, Sophie took a large fortifying sip of tea and tried to shake the last of the sleep from her head. She watched Letty disappear, followed by Sophie’s maid. Minutes later they appeared with another gown in their hands.

“Ahhhh … Letty, that is very fitted and revealing,” Sophie said, eyeing the dress of pale mint satin her sister-in-law held in her hands.

“Perfect!”

Standing before the mirror an hour later, Sophie studied herself in the reflection. There seemed to be a huge amount of her chest showing. Fitted in the bodice, the dress cupped her breasts and nipped in beneath. The skirts were a waterfall of flowing silk with a soft overskirt in sheer ivory that stopped an inch from the floor, allowing the pale mint to be seen beneath. It was a beautiful dress, and like a wisp of air to wear, yet was tonight the right night to wear it? Her hair had been piled high with one long curl left to rest on a shoulder. Tiny mint gems were pinned in place and glittered in the light as she turned her head. Sophie’s only jewelry was a single teardrop diamond necklace, which had been a gift from Letty for her birthday a few months ago.

“Are you ready, dear?”

“Yes, Letty,” Sophie answered as she appeared in the doorway.

“Oh, Sophie, you look beautiful.”

“I’m not sure about this dress,” Sophie said, tugging the bodice higher, which achieved absolutely nothing.

“I am,” Letty said, taking Sophie’s hand in hers. “I’m just so proud of you, my dear. And I know you’re scared, child, but Lord Coulter is the right man for you.”

“You think so?”

“Yes. I know he is.”

“Well then, Lady Carstairs, lead me to my first event as the earl’s betrothed.”

The carriage trip was relatively short, yet Sophie knew by the amount of time it took for their carriage to reach the front door that it would be a crush. When she and Letty were finally announced into the ballroom, the hum of voices immediately ceased, only to begin again even louder and more animated than it had been before their arrival. It seemed society was abuzz over the sudden engagement of the countess to the earl and the subsequent wedding that would take place in just two weeks.

“Smile, Sophie, you’re marrying one of the most eligible bachelors in the United Kingdom.”

“I’m trying, Letty, but my cheeks appear to be frozen in place.”

Amelia greeted them dressed in a pretty rosebud pink and immediately told them of the gossip that was circulating.

“This year’s debutantes are distraught that they have not snagged the eligible earl, and their mothers, while disappointed, are now happy that their daughters no longer have to compete with you.”

“How long have you been here?” Sophie asked, surprised and a little disturbed at how much information she had gathered.

“An hour, but wait, there’s more.”

“I can’t wait,” Sophie groaned, allowing Amelia to lead her away from Letty and circle the room.

“The men were philosophical. The countess, they say, is a woman who needs a special man to tame her and many believe the earl is just the right man for the job.”

“I am not a dog!”

“Now, Sophie, I am only relaying what you will hear yourself in the course of the evening,” Amelia said, patting her arm. She then stiffened as Viscount Sumner walked toward them.

“Countess! Allow me to offer my congratulations, I am very happy for both you and Patrick.”

“Odious creature!”

“Amelia!” Sophie shushed her friend. Shooting a look at Stephen’s face, she noted that his smile appeared forced.

“Thank you, my lord, for your kind words.”

“Miss Pette,” Lord Sumner said, bowing deeply.

“My lord.” Amelia bobbed a small reluctant curtsy.

“Your son is well, Countess?”

“Very, thank you so much for asking. He is … quite recovered from his ordeal,” Sophie said, choosing her words carefully.

“What ordeal?” Amelia asked.

“Egad! There is something the indomitable Miss Pette does not know?” Lord Sumner said, staggering back a step.

Sophie watched Amelia’s eyes narrow and suspected it did not bode well for Viscount Sumner.

“May I have the pleasure of this dance, Countess?”

“Oh.” Turning, Sophie encountered Lord Tadlow. She had thought that once she was engaged, men would no longer request her hand to dance. It seemed she was wrong.

“Yes, please,” she said with perhaps too much enthusiasm, but as Amelia had already started hissing at Stephen, Sophie was more than happy to get out of range before she was called upon to take sides.

* * *

Patrick arrived late to the Bradford ball. Buried in paperwork all day, he had let the hours get away from him. Changing wills and generally tidying up his affairs took time. However, she had never been far from his thoughts. The many faces of Sophie had slipped in and out of his head all day and now he wanted to see her with a desperation that did not sit well on his shoulders.

“My lord, allow me to congratulate you on your betrothal.”

“Thank you, Lady Quentin,” Patrick said, grinding his teeth as the widow stepped in front of him.

“I was surprised by the haste in which the wedding is to take place and of course, like the rest of society, I wondered at its reason …”