The Reluctant Countess (21 page)

“Lord Coulter, Mary is so looking forward to her dance with you, the quadrille I believe?”

“Lady Finch,” Patrick said stopping before a gimlet-eyed old matron who had stepped into their path. “The pleasure will be all mine, I assure you,” he finished gravely.

Patrick watched as Lady Finch’s smile transformed into a scowl when her eyes turned to Sophie. The gesture was only slight, but Patrick felt Sophie lean closer to him as Lady Finch continued to look down her nose at her. He liked that she sought him for protection, even if she was unaware of that fact.

“My lady,” Sophie’s tone was icy.

“Countess.” Lady Finch’s tone matched.

At this rate Patrick would end up with frostbite. Nodding to Lady Finch, he steered Sophie around the elderly lady and continued walking.

“Well, that went well,” Patrick said in a patently false yet hearty tone.

Sophie giggled; she couldn’t help it. The sound just came out of her mouth before she could stop it, which seemed to be happening more and more of late.

“The problem is, my lord, that you are the most eligible fish this season and many an ambitious parent would like to land you.” Sophie blushed at her forthright speech.

“Ah well, there they are destined to be disappointed, as I have found the line I wish to be lured onto,” Patrick said, looking down at her. Just one glance made his body clench. He didn’t know why or how it had happened, but this woman had gotten under his skin and he no longer wanted to fight the attraction.

“My dance, I believe,” he said, leading her onto the floor as a waltz struck up.

Sophie felt a cold chill take up residence in her chest. He had made his choice from this year’s debutantes and she had been a fool to believe it would be any other way. But dear lord, it hurt that he did not choose her. Secretly, she had wanted exactly that, and she had thought that his actions toward her the other night had indicated that he felt something for her; she had thought that when he made love to her it was because he had wanted a future with her.
You are a fool, Sophie. Why would a man like him be interested in you, a servant who tricked her way into becoming a countess?

“You look beautiful tonight, my sweet.” Patrick smiled as the tension of the past few days slowly eased from his body. She felt right in his arms, the perfect fit. The brief contact of her body against his as they moved was a mixture of heaven and hell.

“Congratulations, my lord, I hope you will be very happy.” Sophie was proud that she had managed to keep her voice steady, although it was a struggle to keep her face emotionless.

Looking down at her, Patrick wondered if he had heard Sophie correctly.

“I beg your pardon?”

“I … I wish you and your n-new wife every happiness.”

She wouldn’t look at him; her eyes were trained on his shoulder, her neck stiff as she held herself rigid. Patrick felt the bite of anger as he realized how wrong she had got his words; in fact, if he followed his first impulse it would be to wrap his fingers around that bloody neck and squeeze.

“Thank you, Sophie, I am heartened to know that I have your blessing,” he said in a calm voice that he was far from feeling. That put a poker up her spine, and he smiled as her teeth snapped together. How dare she think so little of him, let alone herself?

“M-may I enquire as to whom you are marrying, my lord?”

He ignored her as they negotiated a series of turns with ease, moving with each other as if they had danced this way their entire lives. Patrick noted she was not counting her steps now.

“As the woman concerned has not given me her acceptance, it would be wrong of me to tell you. But you know her well … very well.”

She stopped dancing then, eyes blazing as she looked at him.

“Sophie.” Patrick could tease her no more. She ignored him, twisting in his arms for release. “Do you think so little of me that I would offer for another woman after what we have shared?” he said, trying to move her back into the dance.

He heard the gasp, and then she wrenched from his arms.

“How dare you tease me like that?” Sophie hissed, because she could think of nothing further to say and because he had touched at the very core of her insecurities. The fear that he did not want her—did not believe her good enough.

“How dare
I
?” Patrick said. “You believed me capable of marrying another woman, Sophie! How do you believe that made me feel?” he added, his voice now considerably louder.

“I … I.” Sophie glared at him, so he smiled at her because they were standing in a crowded room with every eye upon them. Patrick cared nothing for himself, they could all go to hell, but he would not have Sophie subjected to their sniggers or innuendos, even if he was furious with her.

“You’re laughing at me!”

“I’m not,” Patrick said, dropping the smile immediately. This had to be the most absurd conversation he had ever had. He had finally found the woman he wanted to marry and she had no idea how he felt; in fact, she believed he wanted another.

“Go to hell!” Sophie said as she left him standing on the dance floor.

Shaking his head, Patrick wondered what had just happened. Frustrated, he watched her storm across the crowded ballroom, banging into people as she walked. He started to follow her and then suddenly she was gone, swallowed up by the masses circulating the crowded room. Well, he would not chase her; he’d let her simmer for a while—teach her a bloody lesson, the little fool. “Women,” he muttered under his breath, then headed for the card room. He would sort this mess out tomorrow.

“Women!”

Patrick stopped as Stephen approached, a dark scowl on his face, and raising a brow, Patrick questioned what had upset his friend.

“Miss Pette says my rudeness in not recognizing her when she first walked into the ballroom is unforgivable,” Stephen snapped. “Apparently I am unbelievably shallow and not the man she had thought me to be.”

Patrick winced, then nodded in sympathy. “Sophie believed I wanted to marry another, and then when I straightened that out, admittedly after a little teasing on my part, she told me to go to hell.”

“Good lord!” Stephen’s eyebrows shot to his hairline.

“Quite,” Patrick said curtly. “I’m for the club, coming?”

“Yes,” Stephen said, throwing a dark glance at Miss Pette while Patrick did the same in the direction Sophie had taken. The two men stalked from the room.

* * *

“I have no wish to go driving, Letty,” Sophie said, crossing her arms.

“And yet you will,” Letty replied, looking equally determined.

Sophie’s chest felt tight as she walked to the window. They were in Letty’s favorite parlor, which had a view of the gardens behind the house. The weather was indeed beautiful and she had thought to take Timmy to the park for the day, to a nice secluded spot where no one would come upon them. But she would make sure that she did not walk around on her hands, as it would not do for anyone else to see her knickers.

“Please, Letty, I do not wish to go,” Sophie said, still looking out the window. It was easier to win a point with Letty if you did not make eye contact.

“We owe Lord Coulter a huge debt that we can never begin to repay, Sophie. I would beg you to remember that when he calls.”

“Of course I know we owe him a debt, Letty.” Sophie tried to ease some air into her lungs. She, better than anyone, felt the weight of that debt.

“He cares about you, Sophie, it is plain to see if only you would open your eyes and look.”

Sophie heard the door gently click shut behind Letty as she left the room. Of course she was right. Sophie knew that without Patrick they would not have gotten Timmy back. Color heated her cheeks as she remembered her behavior at the Shelton ball. She had behaved badly, and he had every right to tease her. How could she have told him to go to hell and then storm from the room like an actress in a bad play? It was just that sometimes when she was with him she was so afraid, afraid of what he made her feel and do. He had said that it was her that he had wanted to marry and she had thrown it back in his face. Would he have changed his mind now? Was that why he wanted to see her? And if so, could she blame him? Sinking into the nearest chair, Sophie dropped her head into her hands. When had she become such a mess? Nervous tension, fears, and insecurities—she was a churning mass of emotions.

Would he have changed his mind?

“Well, Sophie, there is only one way to find out,” she said, drawing back her shoulders and walking from the room.

“It is indeed a beautiful day for a drive, Lady Carstairs.”

Sophie’s stomach fluttered as the deep voice reached her through the open doorway. The more she dwelled upon her behavior the other night, the more mortified she had become. She would have to apologize and hope he accepted it.

“Ah, there you are, my dear,” Letty said, coming forward to take Sophie’s hand firmly in hers as she walked into the room. “I was just commenting on the weather and how lovely it will be for your drive.”

“Lady Monmouth,” Patrick said, bowing deeply.

“Lord Coulter.” Sophie curtsied in reply.

Letty and Patrick conversed for several minutes. Sophie, he noted, said nothing and proceeded to chew her lip until it was rosy. It was, however, the only sign she was on edge; she had the ice maiden shield firmly in place today. Dressed in pale sky blue with a military style over-jacket in deeper blue, she looked worlds away from the sultry lady he had escorted into that tavern the other night. She stood so still he almost wanted to pinch her to make her squeak. Her curls were hidden from him, tucked up inside a bonnet, allowing Patrick a glimpse of the vulnerable line of her neck.

“If you are ready, my lady,” Patrick said.

Nodding regally, Sophie gave Letty a kiss on one cheek and preceded him from the room.

Patrick climbed up into the driver’s seat of his curricle after he had assisted Sophie into hers. His man jumped on the back, and then taking up the reins, Patrick began to direct his horses into the traffic. He kept the conversation light at first and she replied in kind, discussing small inconsequential things such as the weather, and slowly she began to drop the façade and his Sophie began to emerge.

“What is happening there?”

He followed her finger to where a small group of people had gathered.

“Do you see the man standing on the box?” Patrick asked.

“Yes,” she said, lifting herself up in her seat to see over the people.

“He’s talking and the other people are listening,” said Patrick.

“About what?”

“About whatever he wants. Usually religion or politics or something dire, like the end of the world.”

“Stephen would be good at that, don’t you think?” Sophie said, laughing.

Patrick loved the sound of Sophie’s laughter, especially when it was unguarded and spontaneous.

“Preaching to people? Without a doubt,” he added as she nodded. “I’ll make sure to tell him when next I see him that you have found him a new vocation.”

“And you, my lord, I believe you would do quite well standing up there also.”

He wanted to close the distance between them and kiss her right on her smart mouth, but that would keep until they were alone.

“Are you saying I like to preach to people, my lady?”

Sophie knew there was much unsaid between her and Patrick, and she knew that in time they would need to speak of those things, but here and now she was just enjoying being alone with him while they shared some lighthearted banter.

“Well, you do like to lecture people, my lord, even you must admit to that much. Why just the other day, Lady Sumner told me upon her first meeting with you as a child, you had told her that her son had no manners.”

Patrick snorted. “Actually, I remember that. Going to Stephen’s estate had been a revelation to me after my own family life,” he said slowly. “I had not believed a family could actually love each other as they did, and that parents shared both meals and time with their children.”

“Was your life so … so horrid then?” Sophie whispered.

She thought he wouldn’t answer.

“Not horrid, just without love and laughter. Simply put, I was the heir that needed to be molded into an earl.”

He was trying to keep his words light, yet she heard the pain and her heart ached for the little boy who had obviously only wanted love. For Sophie, seeing this other side to the formidable earl merely made her feelings for him stronger. Placing one of her hands on his, she held it there.

“I was lucky, my mother loved me as best she could,” Sophie said.

Patrick felt the comfort of Sophie’s hand on his as they drove out of London. He wondered why he had chosen now to speak of his past, and with her, when he had never told anyone the whole of it, not even Stephen.

“I’m glad you had one parent to love you.”

“Was your mother not kind to you at all?”

Patrick’s snort of laughter held no humor. “My mother’s method of child rearing included lecturing me on how to become an earl from sunrise to sunset.” Why the hell had he told her that?

“I am not offering an excuse for her behavior, my lord. However, I’m sure that she raised you exactly as she was raised and therefore knew no better.”

“With the benefit of age comes wisdom, my sweet, and over the past few years I, too, have come to that conclusion.”

“Still, that does not excuse her entirely. She was your mother and as such should have offered you more than just a roof over your head.”

The sincerity in Sophie’s eyes told Patrick she meant every word, and it humbled him knowing it was all for him. Something warm took up residence in his chest.

“Ah, sweetheart, you have no idea how good that makes me feel.”

“ ’Tis my belief, Patrick, that there is a special place in hell for parents who do not love their children, and I am sure both your parents are now firmly in residence.”

“It is my fondest wish.”

“How did they die?”

“They were driving home from a neighbor’s party and their horses took fright and bolted. The carriage collided with a tree and they were both killed instantly.”