The Reluctant Countess (17 page)

“Tell him your story, Sophie,” Patrick said again as he moved to take the seat beside her. First, though, he forced her to drink several mouthfuls of brandy, which burned like firewater and made her cough and splutter.

Stephen watched as Patrick tended to Sophie, noticed the fierce tender look in his friend’s eyes and the loving glances she threw him. He wondered if they were aware of this love that they so obviously shared. Remaining silent, he turned his attentions to Sophie, Countess of Monmouth, and her story.

She told Stephen everything. Her voice was still husky and her tears close to the surface, and Patrick could see the cost of repeating the story as she drew to an end. Her fingers clenched around the cup, knuckles white, strain etched on her face.

He had been surprised by her revelations, yet in truth they did not change his feelings for Sophie, whatever they were, Patrick thought, giving his head a small shake. He wanted to hold her again. Sitting this close and seeing her distress made him want to slay something. He wanted to wipe away her pain, see her smile, and hear the small giggles she let slip when her guard was down. Looking at her now, huddled deep in his chair, her nose red from crying, face pale, hair falling in tangles past her shoulders, Patrick knew he was lost. Sophie had made him feel and for that reason alone he knew there would be no other woman for him. Somehow she had broken through the barrier he had placed around his emotions, something he had erected as a child when countless attempts at seeking affection had failed and he had locked everything away—until now, it seemed.

As her story stumbled to a halt, Patrick listened while Stephen questioned her. He had no censure in his eyes, only genuine interest in Sophie’s plight, and for that Patrick was thankful. He knew, however, that if word got out, not everyone would be as forgiving. A servant masquerading as a countess, even if she was a real one, would not sit well with many of his peers.

“Can you give us names, Sophie?” Stephen queried as he took a sip of his tea.

“J-Jack Spode,” Sophie stuttered, then took a large gulp from her own cup.

“We will find him, sweetheart, I promise.” Patrick took the saucer from her trembling hands before she dropped it. Obviously this Jack Spode was someone from her past, Patrick thought, as he watched what little color Sophie had left in her cheeks drain away.

“Tell us about him, Sophie,” Patrick said, rising and walking toward the fire. Moving away from her would stop him from reaching for her.

“He was someone from my village, a man my father had worked for over the years when he needed a few extra men on any of his jobs,” Sophie said, shooting both Stephen and Patrick a nervous look. She kept waiting for disdain to cloud their eyes. Surely it would only be a matter of time before these two noblemen would turn their backs on her and walk away. She would lay no blame at their feet if that were to be their reaction, but dear lord it would hurt, Sophie thought, as she looked at Patrick beneath her lashes.

“Why would he have taken Timmy, Sophie?” Patrick asked, trying to meet her eyes, but once again she looked away.

“I was to be his woman,” Sophie said. She hated talking of that time in her life, but knew she must tell them everything about her relationship with Jack, or they would not know the sort of man they were dealing with. “He was the richest man in our small village, he owned everything that was corrupt and underhanded.” Just speaking of that time in her life thrust Sophie back there. Every day had started at sunrise and finished well after sunset. Her memories were of a mother who’d cried constantly and a father who drank away every coin they had.

“Jack started coming to my house when I turned thirteen.” Sophie shuddered as she remembered how his eyes had followed her and how he would touch her if he got the opportunity.

Patrick saw the fear in Sophie’s face as she talked of her old life. Saw the terror as she spoke of this bastard Spode. He started forward, wanting to ease her anguish, but Stephen stopped him with a raised hand and a slight shake of his blond head.

“We must have it all, Colt,” Stephen whispered.

Patrick gave a curt nod and stayed by the fireplace with his eyes on Sophie.

“My mother sent me away to Monmouth as soon as a position came available. She had realized Jack’s intentions toward me were not honorable. Jack was not pleased when he found out,” Sophie whispered. “Even though Monmouth was but a short distance from my home, I was only able to visit once a month. It was on one of my last visits, just as my mother fell sick, that Jack found me at home.”

Sophie didn’t want to tell Patrick her story. It made her feel unclean, as if Jack had actually violated her as he had intended.

“He told me that my father owed him several hundred pounds and that I was to be his woman if my father could not pay the debt.”

Patrick clenched his fists as Sophie shuddered; he vowed to kill Jack Spode with his bare hands.

“My father was close to death. I ran to where he lay and begged him to tell me that Jack’s words were lies, but he just shook his head and said that he was sorry.” Sophie found the handkerchief Patrick had given her and wiped her nose before she continued. This last part was always the hardest to think about, but to say it out loud would be terrible. Taking a deep breath she finished her story. “Jack was waiting for me as I left the house. He … he grabbed me and threw me to the ground. I … I fought and just when I thought it was over and that he w-would … I found a rock and hit him with it.”

“Enough,” Patrick said, pulling Sophie to her feet and into his arms. She clung to him but this time she did not cry; she just shook. “We have enough information, Stephen,” he added.

Stephen almost felt sorry for this Jack Spode. He had only seen that particular dangerous look in Patrick’s eyes twice, and both incidents were etched in his memory.

“I ran to Monmouth and Jack sent me a note,” Sophie said from the depths of Patrick’s chest. “It said that one day I would pay for what I had done to him, and now it is Timmy who is paying for my past.”

“We will find him, Sophie,” Stephen said, getting to his feet. “I’ll call the carriage, Colt,” he added, walking from the room.

When he had left, Patrick forced Sophie to finish the rest of the brandy and then settled her back into the chair before the fire.

“I need to get dressed and gather a few things, sweetheart. Stay here until I come back for you.” Patrick waited until she nodded, then placing a kiss on her lips he, too, left the room.

* * *

As the carriage carried them back through the dark London streets a short while later, Sophie wondered what Patrick and Lord Sumner could do to find Timmy. Surely they could never track down a man such as Jack Spode—a man who lived his life in the sleaziest places with people of questionable morals?

“You must go straight to Lady Carstairs, Sophie, and tell her of Timmy’s abduction,” said Patrick, who was seated beside Sophie. “We will come to you as soon as we have either Timmy or news of him.”

“But how will you find him?” questioned Sophie, her eyes desperately seeking both men in the darkened carriage.

“As you have entrusted us with your secrets, perhaps it is time we shared one of ours, Sophie,” Lord Sumner said from the opposite seat.

“Patrick and I did not just fight for our country, my dear; we infiltrated our enemies and often spent months behind enemy lines. We’re experienced in getting information from people, and finding Jack Spode should not prove too difficult with the contacts we know here in London.”

Patrick could just see Sophie’s silhouette in the faint moonlight. Leaning over, he placed a finger under her jaw and pushed it shut, then lifting one of the hands she had clenched in the folds of her cloak, he pried it open and held it in one of his own.

“So now we are even, Sophie,” Stephen said. “We each have a secret that if shared would cause a scandal of some proportions. I suggest we have a pact of sorts.”

“A pact, Lord Sumner?”

“Patrick and I will carry your secret in here, Countess,” Stephen said tapping his head. “If you promise to carry ours the same way. You are the only person we have shared this with besides a few old cronies at the War Office.”

Sophie didn’t know what to say; she was humbled by Lord Sumner’s words. “I will of course carry your secret safely, my lords,” she said, looking first at Stephen, then Patrick. “But surely what I have told you is far worse, and once it is common knowledge that I was a servant, you will wish to distance yourself …”

“Friends do not abandon friends, Sophie,” Stephen said firmly, “and I would have you call me Stephen if you please.”

Patrick had remained silent, letting Stephen talk, and he was never more proud of his friend than at this moment.

“Thank you, Stephen,” Sophie said.

As the carriage pulled to a stop in front of Letty’s town house, Sophie was relieved to see it was still in darkness. She made a decision as Patrick moved to open the door, a decision neither man would be happy with.

“I will come with you.”

“Absolutely not!” Stephen said.

Patrick just said, “No!”

“Timmy is my brother, he will need me to be there when you find him,” she said as calmly as her wildly beating heart allowed her to.

“We are going into the most dangerous parts of London, Sophie. Areas frequented by those who would slit your throat before asking what you want.”

“I understand that, Patrick, but I will still be going with you. I will stay in the carriage when you say I must … but I will be accompanying you.”

He couldn’t help it, she just made him smile. From the thrust of her chin to her clenched fists and every delectable inch in between, it all made Patrick smile. Twenty minutes ago she was a sobbing hysterical woman, and now her voice carried a steely determination he had rarely seen. Of course he couldn’t allow her to accompany them, he could never take that risk, yet he was pleased to see her courage.

“The answer is no, Sophie. Now we are wasting time, so get out of the carriage and let me escort you inside,” Patrick said, holding the door open and using his head to indicate he wanted her to step down.

“If you make me get out of this carriage, I will call a hackney and follow you.” Sophie inched further back in her seat as she spoke. She needed to go, not only to see to Mary and Timmy’s safe return, but to make sure Patrick stayed safe. She could not bear the thought of anything happening to him, because tonight she had realized just how important he was to her.

“Be reasonable, Sophie. How am I to concentrate on Timmy’s safe return if I have to worry over you,” Patrick said, and was rewarded with a nod of encouragement from the now silent Stephen.

“I was a servant, Patrick. I know about villains and thieves, the seedy side of life.”

Stubborn girl. Patrick took a deep breath; only she could make him lose his temper.

“Let her come, Colt. We have two drivers. We will station one outside her door when we get out of the carriage.”

Patrick stared at his friend. Was he mad?

“We are wasting time, Patrick. Please close the door and let us be on our way,” Sophie said, moving across the seat to jam herself into the corner in case he decided to bodily lift her out.

“First, you will go upstairs and change your clothes, and second, you will leave a note for Letty in case she wakes and grows worried over your absence,” Patrick said, unhappy that he was giving in, but knowing when he was cornered.

“You will leave without me,” Sophie said unmoving. She was on to their tricks.

“You have my word we will not.” Patrick’s sigh could have felled a forest as he stepped out of the carriage

She gave both men a look, then took the hand Patrick held out to her.

“Thank you,” Patrick said as he joined Stephen inside the carriage once Sophie had gone inside to change her clothes. “However, I would have been grateful for a bit of backup,” he added.

Stephen waved his words away, instantly understanding what Patrick’s gratitude had been for. “What she did tonight took courage, Colt. I have no fears confiding in her, and for what it’s worth I like her; she will keep you on your toes.”

“How so?” Patrick queried. He did not bother to deny his feelings or intentions toward Sophie. Stephen was no fool and Patrick was sure that he now knew what she meant to him. Surprisingly, these revelations did not instill their usual terror in Patrick; instead, they infused him with warmth.

Stephen took his time answering as he made himself more comfortable by propping his booted feet on the opposite seat beside Patrick.

“Sophie has lived with fear for years; there has probably never been a point in her life when she was without it. Of course, now she has Lady Carstairs and wealth, but she still has the fear of exposure.”

Patrick nodded. Society might think Stephen a devil-may-care rake, but he was in fact a very astute man and one of the few from whom Patrick took advice.

“It is my belief that when she is wed to you, she will finally feel safe, and her natural nature will surface.” Stephen laughed as Patrick scowled at him. “You will wed her, my friend, and her nature will be bubbly and enthusiastic and she will lead you on a merry chase.”

“Perhaps I should ask her first,” Patrick drawled.

“You do that.”

Hearing the front door of Sophie’s house close, Patrick climbed from the carriage again to help her inside.

* * *

Patrick signaled his driver to stop before a small seedy tavern in St. Giles, one of the more undesirable parts of London.

“You will stay here, Sophie. This place is filled with men who have drunk too much and would think nothing of taking advantage of a woman, no matter what her standing in society may be.”

Sophie nodded but remained silent. She was no fool.

“Good girl,” Patrick added as he leaned over to brush a kiss on her lips.

“Please be careful,” she begged.

Nodding, Patrick handed her a blanket and a small flask, then he and Stephen left the carriage. Seconds later, Sophie peeked out the window to see one of his drivers move to stand beside the door.