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Sophie headed for the first glass cabinet.

It housed tiny glass birds and animals, plus exquisite and fragile dolls.

Being raised with nothing but what her mother or she could make, she’d not had a lot of pretty things, so from the first time Letty had taken her shopping, she’d fallen in love with these tiny, delicate figurines.

“Allow me to get her out for you,” Mr. Draven said, appearing at Sophie’s side.

“I am just looking, thank you,” Sophie said, sniffing the air. Mr. Draven had a musty scent about him, like old undusted books.

He opened the cabinet anyway and handed her a tiny doll with long black hair and blue eyes. It was the size of Sophie’s hand and exquisite in a rose-pink velvet dress.

“I can’t imagine how long it took to make,” she said, looking at the sweet face.

“She’s lovely, and you must buy her.”

Sophie turned to see who had spoken.

“Sorry, I did not mean to disturb you. I am Miss Logan, Amelia. We have not been introduced, but I have often seen you at social gatherings.”

“Good day to you.” Sophie sank into a curtsy.

She was pretty, but her dress was an ill-fitting and drab gray, which did nothing for her auburn hair and pale complexion— not that Sophie knew a great deal about such things. Even so, the dress seemed to wear her instead of the other way round.

“I have a cabinet where I house my collection. My mother says I spend far too much time with it for a grown woman. But I collect these things because I admire the craft behind making these delicate little dolls and animals,” Miss Logan said.

“Like someone who collects fine art or books, I just like to look at them, not play with them.”

“I can see why. They are lovely,” Sophie said, looking at the doll in her hand.

“I must go, as my mother is waiting for me, but you really should purchase that doll, Lady Monmouth. I think she looks just like you.”

Sophie laughed at that, feeling comfortable around the woman, which was odd, considering she’d never felt that way with anyone in society but Letty.

“Perhaps I will,” Sophie said. She then bid Miss Logan goodbye and browsed a few minutes more. After purchasing the doll and a small box with a pearl inlay on the top for Letty, she then left the shop.

“I will take those, my lady,” Jenny said, holding out her hands for Sophie’s purchases. Knowing argument was futile, she handed them over.

“Should we buy some sweets from that shop next do you think, Jenny?” Sophie pointed down the road farther. “Before we collect Lady Carstairs’s book.”

“Robbie likes peppermint cremes,” Jenny said.

“Does he now? Well, that’s good to know if I need to bribe him,” Sophie said, drawing a snort from her maid.

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t the sweet Countess of Monmouth.”

Every muscle in Sophie’s body clenched at the drawled words. Exhaling slowly, she turned to find her late husband’s nephew.

“My lord.” She slipped into a curtsy.

“I am surprised my aunt lets her most treasured possession out unescorted.”

Ignoring the snigger coming from the female clasping his arm, Sophie raised her chin.

Viscount Myles Dutton was a loathsome man who always had a smirk on his face that women seemed to adore.

His eyes were too close together for Sophie’s liking, but that wasn’t the only thing she detested about him.

She hated the way he treated Letty. He sneered and talked down to her, and that was something Sophie no longer tolerated.

Her late husband’s brother’s son. He believed he should have gained more after the Earl of Monmouth’s death.

His lack of visits to Monmouth while she worked there meant he didn’t recognize her when Sophie became Countess of Monmouth. Men like him never acknowledged servants.

“Thank you, my lord. It is truly a compliment to hear you call me a treasured possession,” she said.

“I meant no compliment, madam,” he snarled, his polished veneer slipping.

Blond, handsome, and vicious. This was a man who hated Sophie with every fiber of his being, and the feeling was mutual.

“You and my aunt will pay for what you have done to me,” he said, leaning in so only Sophie could hear his words.

They were standing in a busy street with people all around them, so he would not make a scene, but still, she knew he had a vicious tongue and would not hesitate to wield it.

“Are you well, my lady?”

“Yes, thank you, Jenny,” Sophie said, not taking her eyes off Dutton. Her mother had raised her to be strong; she would never show this man fear. “Tell Robbie we are leaving. I will be there shortly.”

Never turn your back on a bully . Her mother’s words slid into her head.

“I fail to see how I have ruined your life, my lord, when upon the death of my husband, you inherited a title that comes with several properties and a more than substantial remuneration,” she stated calmly. “Now I must return to my carriage. Good day to you, my lord.”

“Not so fast, Countess. I will have my say now that your guard dog is not at your side.”

“My maid is loyal to me, which I’m sure is a foreign concept to you, my lord, seeing as you go through staff quicker than cake,” Sophie said. It was a deliberate insult, and one that cut to the heart of his vanity. Myles prided himself on his trim physique.

“Bitch,” he hissed, his grip tightening.

“Hurry up, Myles. You promised to buy me something pretty,” the lady with him said.

“Soon, my sweet. I have a few things to say to the countess first.”

“Release me at once,” Sophie said, battling to tamp down the fear that was climbing inside her. “There is nothing you could say to me that I would want to hear.”

“I will uncover the truth, Countess, and then you will be sorry… very sorry.”

Sophie tugged her arm, but he would not release her.

“Do not threaten me, my lord.” Sophie felt her own anger rise and push aside the fear.

He leaned in closer until his face was inches from hers, and she saw the loathing in his eyes.

“I should have been the Earl of Monmouth and inherited all the estates, yet I received a mere portion of what was rightfully mine. I knew nothing of you or that brat until my uncle passed away,” Myles added, his fingers biting into her arm.

“You changed his will, you and that reprobate aunt of mine.”

“Do not dare speak of Letty like that!” Sophie snapped back.

“You are a wastrel and unworthy of her.” She leaned in closer.

“And remember, Myles, it is my son who is the earl and, as such, is guided by both me and your aunt. Have a care how you speak to us, or you may find your future a lot leaner than your current situation.”

“I will find out the truth,” he whispered in her face. “And then you’ll be sorry.”