“Well, if you want to investigate further, I suggest you make haste to put your name on her dance card, as her circle is forming,” Stephen urged.
Patrick eyed the men moving to intercept the countess and then pushed off the wall to join their ranks.
CHAPTER 2
“Ifeel like a piece of raw meat being hurled to the ravaging masses, Letty,” Sophie, Countess of Monmouth, murmured to the lady walking with her. “Even after two weeks, my heart is thumping out of the bodice of my very low-cut dress.”
“Now, Sophie, we have been through this already. Your dress is conservative when compared with others on display and very pretty too.”
Sophie concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other. Lady Letitia Carstairs made small comforting noises as she guided her through the crowds.
“I feel as if someone is going to scream ‘Charlatan!’ from the rooftops while pointing a finger at me,” Sophie whispered as a familiar feeling of impending doom once again gripped her.
“Only three people know. One of those is dead, and the other two are you and me, my dear. Surely you can see we are not about to be found out, and on that note, what we did was perfectly legal, so stop worrying.” Letty once again patted Sophie’s hand. This was a soothing gesture she did many times when they entered society.
Letty was the rock she stayed tethered to when in such a setting. Someone who had navigated society for many years and understood all its sharp teeth and nuances. Sophie did not and likely never would.
“This ballroom is even grander than the last. Had you told me six months ago I would enter somewhere like this to do anything but serve the guests, I’d call you a liar,” Sophie whispered.
Grand on every scale, the ballroom had the largest gilt-framed mirror she’d ever seen hanging on one silk wall, and the chandelier was the size of the room she’d once lived in. The guests milled about in beautiful clothes, wearing jewelry it would take her several lifetimes to afford.
“Ladies, how lovely you look this evening. Your beauty eclipses all others.”
“You do realize you said that at the top of your voice, don’t you, Chuffy?” Lady Hindmarsh said, her lips in a tight line. “Very rude of you.”
The elderly man did not seem overly perturbed about the fact that one of society’s most acid-tongued gossips had just taken him to task. Lord Howell, also now known as Chuffy, simply bowed to her also.
“As you were close, I thought to include you in that statement, Gertrude,” he lied blatantly to her face.
“Leave them to their squabble, dear. They are cousins, and arguing is a family sport,” Letty said, nudging her around the couple now debating loudly in the middle of the ballroom.
Cousins. Sophie filed that piece of information inside her head with the many other things she was to remember and often couldn’t.
“Chuffy?”
“I have no idea how he got that name, but apparently it’s from his youth,” Letty said.
“Lord Coulter is directly ahead of us,” Sophie whispered, noting the large dark-haired earl coming her way.
She shuffled two steps closer to Letty. There had been something dark and dangerous about the Earl of Coulter. It was as if beneath that polished veneer lay the real earl—a ruthless man who would not hesitate to expose an imposter like her. Her carefully constructed facade of icy civility seemed to slip whenever he was nearby.
“So he is, my dear.” Letty patted her curls and smoothed a nonexistent wrinkle from her emerald dress. “Smile now and remember to speak slowly and without profanity,” she chided. “Never forget that you have them all fooled, my dear. Why, just yesterday I overheard Mrs. Liversporth scolding her daughter for her deplorable lack of polish and holding you up as a paragon of bearing,” Letty said, giggling like a schoolroom miss. “It is quite a feat, considering not a day goes by without you tripping over your feet or tearing a hem.”
“I am glad that you can find some amusement in this horrible situation. Every evening, I am sure that I will fall down the stairs of whatever room we are entering and land at the feet of every affluent member of society. My skirts will then rise, thereby showing the polite world my undergarments.”
She shot her sister-in-law a look. Her face was sweet, with lines around her mouth and eyes that signaled her age. It was the face of a woman who knew how to smile and appeared to have not a care in the world, which had, in fact, been far from the truth a few years ago.
“Now, dear, you know that will not happen. Rather a miracle, really, you being able to hold yourself so still that it appears you barely draw breath. Quite a clever trick, considering?—”
“Oh Lord! He is getting closer.” Sophie interrupted Letty by grabbing her sister-in-law’s arm, wanting desperately to run and hide.
For a year, they had lived a life that she had no right to be part of, and each day she waited for someone to expose her. Lately, Sophie believed the Earl of Coulter could be that person. Staring at his tall, elegantly clad form as he drew near, she was sure he suspected something.
“Lady Monmouth, Lady Carstairs, as always, it is my pleasure to see you this evening.” The earl bowed deeply before them. Her eyes went to the top of his head and the messy sable-brown curls that were the only thing not perfect about this man.
Every time those dark eyes turned on her, Sophie felt like he could see the scared, poverty-stricken girl she had once been.But no more,she reminded herself.
Everything about the earl was big, Sophie thought, eyeing his hands where they hung at his side. Well over six feet, he often towered over the other men of his acquaintance. Immaculate in a black jacket and cream-and-silver waistcoat, his necktie was not as elaborate as some, but of course perfectly tied.
