Stephen looking at Miss Pette and wondering how such a dowdy mouse had captured his attention.
“Cards?” Stephen asked sometime later.
Patrick grunted his acceptance and followed Stephen from the room before he did something scandalous—something no woman but that bloody raven-haired temptress could entice him to do.
* * *
“Of course there are rumors; some say she forced him to wed her on his deathbed.”
“I heard he was delirious and she paid a priest to do the ceremony as he drew his last breath.”
“Yes, and that the boy is not the late earl’s, but a by-blow from one of her lovers.”
Sophie’s balance was good, but the window ledge was a trifle narrow and she was hindered by the long skirts of her evening gown. Moving slowly, she tried to wiggle closer to her goal. Surely if she jumped she could reach the balcony several feet below.
“Lady Hamilton told me the countess has taken several lovers since arriving in town. That poor little boy, to have such a mother, why it breaks my heart.”
Ha
, Sophie thought,
what heart?
They were all the same, these society ladies; never had she encountered such a group of gossip-mongering harpies. To her face they were all that was sweet, but behind her back they were nothing short of Machiavellian.
“I have tried in vain to see the supposed beauty some profess she has. Alas, I have yet to find any evidence.”
“Indeed, very overrated. Why, that hair cannot be natural and those lashes …”
“Perhaps her charms are of a more base nature and not so evident …”
Sophie ground her teeth at the chorus of high-pitched laughter the suggestive words provoked. The women who now occupied the retiring room had all the subtlety of a runaway carriage.
Wiggling further along the cold surface, Sophie knew her gloves would be beyond repair when she finally reached her destination. Her actions were, of course, extremely foolhardy; climbing out the window to avoid the gaggle of ladies who were intent upon tearing her to shreds did seem a little excessive. Sophie knew she outranked all of them, but she had panicked. She had been leaning out the window in a darkened corner, gulping in fresh air, when the women had entered, and suddenly could not face their false words and simpering smiles. So she had run. Well, climbed actually.
“Cold as ice, the coldhearted countess they call her. I wonder sometimes if she is not aloof but merely witless and unable to converse on any topic, as she has little or no understanding of our ways.”
“Yes, it makes one question if her reasons for not entering society sooner were indeed true.”
“A sick relative,” someone sneered and Sophie clamped her teeth together to stop herself from shouting several foul words back through the window.
The laughter faded as she edged farther away, and soon Sophie was relieved to finally move out of hearing. “Harpies,” she hissed, sure in the knowledge that only she could hear her words.
Extending one leg, Sophie pointed her toe and felt the reassuring solidness of the wide stone balustrade below. She could jump down onto that easily. Pushing herself upright she clutched the edge of the building and looked down. Faint light from the windows showed she was in no danger of landing on another guest, so she let go.
“I fear you will break your pretty neck if you jump, Countess. Or was that the plan?”
CHAPTER FOUR
The deep drawled words made Sophie shriek, then grasp the downpipe as she swayed toward the edge. With her heart pounding wildly, she squinted down into the Earl of Coulters’s handsome face. She could not see all his features, but there was little doubting that he was amused by her predicament.
“If you were not planning to end it all on that ledge, Sophie, then perhaps you were taking air?”
Sophie felt her temper rise and for once could not find her habitual hauteur. Well really, could one display hauteur to any great effect when seated on a ledge, several feet above the
“Cards?” Stephen asked sometime later.
Patrick grunted his acceptance and followed Stephen from the room before he did something scandalous—something no woman but that bloody raven-haired temptress could entice him to do.
* * *
“Of course there are rumors; some say she forced him to wed her on his deathbed.”
“I heard he was delirious and she paid a priest to do the ceremony as he drew his last breath.”
“Yes, and that the boy is not the late earl’s, but a by-blow from one of her lovers.”
Sophie’s balance was good, but the window ledge was a trifle narrow and she was hindered by the long skirts of her evening gown. Moving slowly, she tried to wiggle closer to her goal. Surely if she jumped she could reach the balcony several feet below.
“Lady Hamilton told me the countess has taken several lovers since arriving in town. That poor little boy, to have such a mother, why it breaks my heart.”
Ha
, Sophie thought,
what heart?
They were all the same, these society ladies; never had she encountered such a group of gossip-mongering harpies. To her face they were all that was sweet, but behind her back they were nothing short of Machiavellian.
“I have tried in vain to see the supposed beauty some profess she has. Alas, I have yet to find any evidence.”
“Indeed, very overrated. Why, that hair cannot be natural and those lashes …”
“Perhaps her charms are of a more base nature and not so evident …”
Sophie ground her teeth at the chorus of high-pitched laughter the suggestive words provoked. The women who now occupied the retiring room had all the subtlety of a runaway carriage.
Wiggling further along the cold surface, Sophie knew her gloves would be beyond repair when she finally reached her destination. Her actions were, of course, extremely foolhardy; climbing out the window to avoid the gaggle of ladies who were intent upon tearing her to shreds did seem a little excessive. Sophie knew she outranked all of them, but she had panicked. She had been leaning out the window in a darkened corner, gulping in fresh air, when the women had entered, and suddenly could not face their false words and simpering smiles. So she had run. Well, climbed actually.
“Cold as ice, the coldhearted countess they call her. I wonder sometimes if she is not aloof but merely witless and unable to converse on any topic, as she has little or no understanding of our ways.”
“Yes, it makes one question if her reasons for not entering society sooner were indeed true.”
“A sick relative,” someone sneered and Sophie clamped her teeth together to stop herself from shouting several foul words back through the window.
The laughter faded as she edged farther away, and soon Sophie was relieved to finally move out of hearing. “Harpies,” she hissed, sure in the knowledge that only she could hear her words.
Extending one leg, Sophie pointed her toe and felt the reassuring solidness of the wide stone balustrade below. She could jump down onto that easily. Pushing herself upright she clutched the edge of the building and looked down. Faint light from the windows showed she was in no danger of landing on another guest, so she let go.
“I fear you will break your pretty neck if you jump, Countess. Or was that the plan?”
CHAPTER FOUR
The deep drawled words made Sophie shriek, then grasp the downpipe as she swayed toward the edge. With her heart pounding wildly, she squinted down into the Earl of Coulters’s handsome face. She could not see all his features, but there was little doubting that he was amused by her predicament.
“If you were not planning to end it all on that ledge, Sophie, then perhaps you were taking air?”
Sophie felt her temper rise and for once could not find her habitual hauteur. Well really, could one display hauteur to any great effect when seated on a ledge, several feet above the
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