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S ophie had been pleased that the Earl of Coulter had kept his distance from her this evening. She’d danced with Lord Sumner, but she did not feel he was a threat to her like his large friend.

Dancing with Mr. Burton, Sophie had torn her hem, and she was now attempting to fix it while she sat in the retiring room.

The reprieve for a few minutes was wonderful, if she was honest. It was hot in the ballroom, and the scents from the perfumed guests all mixed together was cloying.

Plus, her nerves were always stretched to breaking point as she attempted to remember all the rules and not disgrace herself.

It was nice to sit in this small room and breathe easy, if only briefly.

Tugging at the thread of her hem, she tightened the stitches so it didn’t look too obvious.

Letty hadn’t spoken of what she and Lady Logan discussed, but she’d seen the tight expression on her sister-in-law’s face. She was hurting, and Sophie had no idea what to do about that.

But one thing that had come from that visit was Amelia and she were now fast becoming friends, and Sophie would never regret that. She was funny and intelligent and wanted nothing more from her than friendship, and that Sophie could give.

“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.”

Sophie lowered her hem at the words. Ladies stood on the other side of the wall talking, and she was fairly sure she was the subject being discussed.

“Yes, and that the boy is not the late earl’s but a by-blow from one of her lovers, which is disgraceful. Poor man to be played like he was. That woman is a harlot.”

She would have to face those ladies if they did not leave soon, as there was no other way out of here.

“If I got her alone and away from Lady Carstairs, I’d tell her exactly what I thought of her.”

“Oh, indeed. She’s an insipid creature in need of a good set down.”

Getting quietly to her feet, Sophie looked at the window behind the chair. Did she dare wait out there for the women to leave?

“What are you discussing?” Someone else had arrived.

Excellent. Now she’d be stuck here for ages while they dissected her character. Harpies.

“The horrid Countess of Monmouth.”

“Lady Hamilton told me she has taken several lovers since arriving in town. That poor little boy. To have such a mother… why, it breaks my heart. I don’t know how she walks in society with her head high.”

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.

The problem was, Sophie didn’t want to walk around this wall and start something that would upset Letty.

If anyone arrived, it would be the women on the other side of that wall against her, so their word would count if they argued.

She climbed onto the seat, desperate to get out of here before they saw her.

“And what is her past? Who is her family? Really, we know nothing about her, as she has never had a season. There is something odd there, I tell you.”

“I agree and 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.

Stepping onto the window frame, she put a foot onto the ledge and inhaled a deep breath of cool air.

“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.”

Sophie clamped her teeth together to stop from shouting several foul words back through the window. Closing it behind her, she smiled to herself. If those ladies saw her, they’d think her mad, which she possibly was.

Walking along the ledge, she reached the edge.

It wasn’t far to that small balcony below, and she would make it with ease.

Then she could walk back inside as if she’d just been taking air.

She’d often washed windows at the Monmouth estate because the boy tasked with the job loathed heights, so this held no fear for her.

Yes, she possibly outranked those gossiping harpies back there, but she would not make a scene, as Letty would be sure to hear.

“Right, time to get back into that ballroom,” she muttered. The sound of footsteps stopped her before she jumped. Sophie pressed her back to the wall, watching as a shadow appeared below, and then he stepped into the moonlight.

Why him of all people? Was she to be plagued with that man turning up in her life constantly for the rest of the season?

Lord Coulter grabbed the railing and then looked out at the night sky. She then watched in shock as his head dropped, almost as if the weight of it was too heavy to bear. It looked to her like a gesture of defeat and was so at odds with the man she’d come to know, it shocked her.

Dragging her eyes from him, Sophie looked back to the window. Could she make it there without Lord Coulter hearing her movements?

She watched him straighten suddenly and then spin on his heel until he was looking in her direction. His head turned from left to right as Sophie pressed herself into the wall, hoping the shadows hid her. Then he looked up, directly at her.