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“ I feel 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.

“Countess, please allow me to say how lovely you look this evening.”

“Thank you, my lord.” Sophie gave him a tight smile, and his dark eyes replied with a hard look, even as his lips tilted in a small smile.

“I had the pleasure of seeing your husband three days before his passing, my lady, and that is a memory I will always treasure,” Lord Coulter said.

“Yes, Melton told us of your visit, my lord,” Letty said, answering for Sophie. “It pleased him greatly to see you one last time; he and your grandmother were friends until her death.”

Three days! Oh dear, this is not good. Sophie focused on keeping the shock out of her expression.

“I did not have the pleasure of seeing you there, Countess, or the current earl, your son.”

Sophie’s tongue suddenly seemed to swell to twice its normal size, blocking anything articulate from leaving her mouth. “Ah,” she stammered.

“Indeed, my lord, my sister-in-law and nephew were visiting a friend with me at the time,” Letty intervened smoothly.

“Well, that explains their absence, then,” he replied. “May I have this dance, Countess?” he added suddenly, holding out his hand. “If your card allows it, of course?”

“Lovely. Off you go, my dear,” Letty said, smiling as if she’d not just plunged Sophie into hell at the hands of the dark lord.

She placed the tips of her fingers on the arm he held out and let him lead her to the dance floor.

Sophie’s heart sank as she heard the first strains of a waltz.

Bloody hell, why could it not be any dance but this one?

He stopped suddenly, and Sophie tripped on his foot, as she’d been too busy panicking instead of focusing on where she stepped.

“Excuse me, my lord, I slipped,” Sophie said as he righted her.

“The fault was mine. Please accept my apologies.”

Find your backbone, Sophie. She could hear Letty’s voice in her head as nerves flooded her body. Dancing was something she’d not learned young like those around her, so Sophie had to focus. One wrong move could end in disaster.

One, two, three.

“Pardon?”

Looking up, she saw he’d raised a dark brow. Had she counted the first steps out loud?

“You made a noise.”

“A small cough and nothing more, my lord,” Sophie said.

He didn’t believe her. She read that, too, in his eyes, but thankfully, he was too polite to say it.

They danced up and down the room beside others, and Sophie had to admit that for a big man, he moved well. Better than her, but then that wasn’t hard.

“How does your son fare here in London, Lady Monmouth?” he asked just when she’d thought they’d get through the entire dance without conversing.

“He is well, my lord. His aunt and I took him on his first London adventure yesterday.” If she was talking, then he could not question her.

“He is very lucky to have such a caring mother, my lady.”

“It is I who am lucky, my lord. Both Timothy and Lady Carstairs are very special to me.”

“I’m sure they feel the same about you, my lady.”

Sophie wasn’t sure why she thought he was mocking her, but she did. Does he know something?

“Where is it you are from, Countess? I’m sure we have not met before this season?”

The words were spoken politely, as if they were just chatting, but Sophie knew he suspected something.

“I am from Devon, Lord Coulter.”

“Do you have family? Perhaps I have met them in society?”

“I do not. All are passed,” Sophie said, sticking closely to the story she and Letty had concocted.

“You have my condolences.”

Sophie nodded.

“I would be honored to take you driving this Wednesday afternoon, Countess. If you are free.”

Sophie scrambled for an excuse to say no but could find none. “Yes, I am free, thank you.”

The music finished, and she took his arm again as he led her back to Letty.

“Thank you, my lord, for the dance,” Sophie lied. In fact, she’d hated every minute of it. She was not born for this life, so living it was a constant challenge.

“The pleasure was all mine, Countess.”

“I am afraid I must decline your invitation for Wednesday afternoon after all, as I’ve just remembered?—”

“What invitation, my dear?” Letty asked, placing her hand on Sophie’s arm.

“I have invited your sister-in-law to come driving with me on Wednesday, Lady Carstairs.”

“Oh, but of course you must go, my dear,” Letty urged, even as Sophie shot her a look that expressed clearly she didn’t want to.

“But did we not promise to take Timmy to the park on Wednesday?”

“I will take Timmy,” Letty said firmly. “We will look forward to your visit, my lord. You may call for Sophie at two o’clock.”

“Wednesday, then.” Bowing, Lord Coulter then walked away without another word.

“He calls to mind a large jungle cat—all feral grace and beauty,” Letty whispered.

“I don’t want to go driving with him, Letty, as you very well know. He suspects something. I am sure of it.” Sophie chewed her bottom lip.

“Stop gnawing on your lip, dear. He may suspect, but what can he do? My brother died two years ago, and shortly before that, he married you. We have the license to prove it, so even the powerful Earl of Coulter can do little to change that, and why would he bother?” Squeezing Sophie’s hand, she continued, “I think he is interested in you, and that makes you nervous; who wouldn’t be when confronted by such a man?

Why, he makes me feel quite hot all over. ”

“Letty, you are wicked.”

“I may be old, child. However, I am not dead.”

“Old.” Sophie scoffed. “I think you use that as an excuse when you wish to manipulate me.”

Laughing, Letty merely waved her fingers at Sophie and walked toward her friend Lady Beatrice. Her parting words caused Sophie’s lips to twitch. “So my late husband often told me, dear. Now get ready. You are about to have company… lots of it.”

Sophie was claimed for the next dance, and it was as she reached the floor that she felt a tingling feeling.

Turning to the right, she saw Lord Coulter leaning against a wall.

His eyes were on her. Dark and dangerous.

That man was trouble for the Monmouth family, as yet she was unsure why.

But Sophie knew one thing: She would be on her guard around that man and watch him closely, because no one would threaten what she, Letty, and Timmy had found. She’d make sure of that.