Julian hated that room. He had not stepped foot in it since Elizabeth's death.
One thing was for certain, he told himself as he climbed the stairs, he would
not make the same mistakes with a new bride as he had made with his first. Never
again would he play the part of a fly in a spider's web.
Fifteen minutes later Julian came back down the stairs dressed for riding. He
was not surprised to find the black stallion he had named Angel ready and
waiting. He had taken it for granted that the horse would be at the door when he
was. Everyone in the household took care to anticipate the master of Ravenwood.
No one in his right mind wanted to do anything that might invoke the devil's
wrath. Julian went down the steps and vaulted into the saddle.
The groom stepped back quickly as the black tossed his head and danced for a few
seconds. Powerful muscles shuddered under the glossy coat as Julian established
control with a firm hand. Then he gave the signal and the animal surged forward
eagerly.
It would not be hard to intercept Miss Sophy Dorring on her way home to Chesley
Court, Julian decided. He knew every inch of his estate and he had a good idea
of just where he would find her taking a shortcut across his land. She would
undoubtedly use the path that circled the pond.
"He's like to kill himself on that horse someday," the footman remarked to the
groom, who was his cousin.
The groom spit onto the cobbled surface of the courtyard. "His lordship won't
make his exit from this life on a horse. Rides like the devil himself. How
long's he going to stay here this time?"
"They're sayin' in the kitchens that he's here to find himself another bride.
Got his eye on Lord Dorring's granddaughter. His lordship wants a quiet little
country miss this time. One who won't give him any trouble."
"Can't blame him for that. I'd feel the same way if I'd been shackled to that
wicked hellcat he picked last time."
"Maggie in the kitchen says that first wife of his was the witch who turned his
lordship into a devil."
"Maggie's got the right of it. I tell ye, I feel sorry for Miss Dorring, though.
She's a decent sort. Remember how she came by with those herbs o' hers this
winter when Ma got that bad cough? Ma swears Miss Dorring saved her life."
"Miss Dorring'll be gettin' herself an Earl," the footman pointed out.
'That's as may be, but she'll pay a high price for the privilege of bein' the
devil's lady."
Sophy sat on the wooden bench in front of Old Bess's cottage and carefully
wrapped the last of the dried fenugreek in a small packet. She added it to the
little bundle of herbs she had just finished selecting. Her supplies of such
essentials as garlic, thistle, nightshade, and poppies in various forms had been
growing low.
"That should do me for the next couple of months, Bess,' she announced as she
dusted off her hands and rose to her feet. She ignored the grass stain on the
skirt of her old blue worsted riding habit.
"Ye be careful if ye need to make up a cup o' poppy-head tea for Lady Dorring's
rheumatism," Bess cautioned. "The poppies came in real powerful this year."
Sophy nodded at the wrinkled old woman who had taught her so much. "I'll
remember to cut back on my measurements. How is everything with you? Do you need
anything?"
"Nary a thing, child, nary a thing." Bess surveyed her aging cottage and herb
garden with a serene eye as she wiped her hands on her apron. "I have everythin'
I need.'
"You always do. You are lucky to be so content with life, Bess."
"Ye’ll find contentment one o' these days, if ye truly seek it."
Sophy's smile faded. "Perhaps. But first I must seek other things."
Bess regarded her sorrowfully, her pale eyes full of understanding. "I thought
ye'd gotten past yer need for vengeance, child. I thought ye'd finally left it
in the past where it ought to be."
"Things have changed, Bess." Sophy started around the corner of the small,
thatch-roofed cottage to where her gelding was waiting. "As it happens, I have
been given a new opportunity to see that justice is done."
"If ye had any common sense, ye would take my advice and forget it, child.
What's done is done. Yer sister, rest her soul, is gone. There's naught ye can
do for her now. Ye have yer own life and ye must pay attention to it." Bess
smiled her gap-toothed smile. "I hear there be a somewhat more pressin' matter
for ye to consider these days."
Sophy glanced sharply at the elderly woman while she made a useless attempt to
straighten her precariously tilted riding hat. "As usual, you manage to keep up
with the village gossip. You've heard I received an offer of marriage from the
devil himself?"
"The folks who call Lord Ravenwood a devil are the ones who deal in gossip. I
deal only in facts. Is it true?"
"What? That the Earl is closely related to Lucifer? Yes, Bess, I am almost
certain it is true. I have never before met such an arrogant man as his
lordship. That sort of pride definitely belongs to the devil."
Bess shook her head impatiently. "I meant is it true he's offered for ye?"
"Yes."
"Well? When do ye be about givin' him yer answer, pray tell?"
Sophy shrugged, abandoning the effort to adjust her hat. Hats always had their
way with her. "Grandfather is giving him an answer this afternoon. The Earl sent
a message that he would be calling at three today to receive it."
Bess came to an abrupt halt on the stone path. Gray curls bobbed beneath her
yellowed muslin cap. Her lined face crinkled in astonishment. "This afternoon?
And here ye be choosin' herbs from my stock as if it were any normal day of the
week? What nonsense is this, child? Ye should be at Chesley Court at this very
moment and dressed in yer best clothes."
"Why? Grandfather does not need me there. He is perfectly capable of telling the
devil to go to hell."
"Tellin' the devil to go to hell! Sophy, child, are ye sayin' ye told yer
grandfather to turn down the Earl's offer?"
Sophy smiled grimly as she came to a halt beside the chestnut gelding. "You have
it exactly right, Bess." She stuffed the little packets of herbs into the
pockets of her habit.
"Nonsense,”' Bess exclaimed. "I can't believe Lord Dorring is so muddle-brained
as this. He knows you'll never get another offer this good if ye live to be a
hundred."
"I'm not so certain of that,” Sophy said dryly. "It depends, of course, on your
definition of a good offer."
Bess's gaze narrowed thoughtfully. "Child, are ye doin' this because yer afraid
of the Earl? Is that what's wrong? I thought ye were too sensible to believe all
the stories they tell down in the village."
"I do not believe them all," Sophy said as she swung herself into the saddle.
"Only about half. Does that console you, Bess?" Sophy adjusted the skirts of her
habit under her legs. She rode astride, although it was not considered quite
proper for a woman of her station to do so. In the country, however, people were
more casual about such matters. In any event Sophy was convinced her modesty was
well protected. With her habit carefully arranged this way only her tan
half-boots showed beneath the skirts.
Bess caught hold of the horse's bridle and peered up at Sophy. "Here now, girl.
Ye don't truly believe that tale they tell about his lordship drownin' his first
wife in Ravenwood Pond, do ye?"
Sophy sighed. "No, Bess, I do not." It would have been more accurate to say she
did not want to believe it.
"Thank the lord, although it be God's truth there ain't none around here who'd
have blamed the man if he had killed her," Bess admitted.
"True enough, Bess."
"Then what's all this nonsense about ye refusin' his lordship's offer? I don't
care for the look in yer eyes, child. I've seen it before and it don't bode
well. What are ye up to now?"
"Now? Why, now I am going to ride old Dancer here back to Chesley Court and then
I am going to set about storing these herbs you have so kindly given me.
Grandfather's gout is acting up again and I have run out of his favorite
decoction."
"Sophy, darlin', are ye truly goin' to refuse the Earl?"
"No," Sophy said honestly. "So you need not look so horrified. In the end, if he
persists, he shall have me. But it will be on my terms."
Bess's eyes widened. "Ah, now I believe I take yer meanin'. Ye've been readin'
those books on the rights o' women again, haven't ye? Don't be a fool, child.
Take some advice from an old woman. Don't be about playin' any of yer games with
Ravenwood. He's not likely to indulge them. Ye might be able to lead Lord
Dorring around by a piece of string, but the Earl's a different sort o' man,
altogether."
"I agree with you on that point, Bess. The Earl is a vastly different sort of
man than Grandfather. But try not to worry about me. I know what I am doing."
Sophy collected the reins and gave Dancer a nudge with her heel.
"Nay, child, I'm not so sure o' that, ' Bess called after her. "Ye don't tease
the devil and expect to come away unharmed."
"I thought you said Ravenwood was not a devil," Sophy retorted over her shoulder
as Dancer broke into a lumbering trot.
She waved at Bess as the horse headed into a stand of trees. There was no need
to guide Dancer back toward Chesley Court. He had made the trip so often during
the past few years that he knew the route over Ravenwood lands by heart.
Sophy let the reins rest lightly on Dancer's neck as she considered the scene
she would undoubtedly discover when she got back to Chesley Court.
Her grandparents would be distraught, of course. Lady Dorring had taken to her
bed this morning, an array of fortifying salts and tonics arranged nearby. Lord
Dorring, who had been left to face Ravenwood alone, would probably be consoling
himself with a bottle of claret by now. The small house staff would be quietly
morose. A suitable connection for Sophy would have been in their best interests
as well as everyone else's. Without a respectable marriage settlement to fill
the family coffers there was little hope of a pension for aging servants.
No one in the household could be expected to understand Sophy's staunch refusal
of Ravenwood's offer. Rumors, gossip, and grim tales aside, the man was, after
all, an Earl—a wealthy and powerful one at that. He owned most of the
surrounding neighborhood there in Hampshire as well as two other smaller estates
in neighboring counties. He also had an elegant house in London.
As far as the local people were concerned, Ravenwood ran his lands well and was
fair with his tenants and servants. That was all that truly mattered in the
country. Those who were dependent on the Earl and who were careful not to cross
him enjoyed a comfortable living.
Ravenwood had his faults, everyone agreed, but he took care of the land and the
people on it. He may have murdered his wife but he had refrained from doing
anything truly heinous such as throwing away his entire inheritance in a London
gaming hell.
The local people could afford to be charitable toward Ravenwood, Sophy thought.
They were not faced with the prospect of marriage to him.
Sophy's glance was drawn, as it always was on this path, to the dark, cold
waters of Ravenwood Pond as it came into sight through the trees. Here and there
small crusts of ice dotted the surface of the deep pool. There was little snow
left on the ground but the chill of winter was still very much in the air. Sophy
shivered and Dancer nickered inquiringly.
Sophy leaned forward to pat the horse's neck reassuringly but her hand froze
abruptly in midair. An icy breeze rustled the branches overhead. Sophy shivered
again, but this time she knew it was not the chill of the early spring afternoon
that was affecting her. She straightened in the saddle as she caught sight of
the man on the midnight black stallion coming toward her through a grove of bare
trees. Her pulse quickened as it always did in Ravenwood's presence.
Belatedly Sophy told herself she ought to have immediately recognized the little
frisson of awareness that had gone through her a moment earlier. After all, a
part of her had been in love with this man since she was eighteen.
That was the year she had first been introduced to the
Earl of Ravenwood. He, of course, probably did not even remember the occasion.
He'd had eyes only for his beautiful, mesmerizing, witchy Elizabeth.
Sophy knew that her initial feelings for the wealthy Earl of Ravenwood had no
doubt begun as little more than a young woman's natural infatuation with the
first man who had captured her imagination. But that infatuation had not died a
natural death, not even when she had accepted the obvious fact that she stood no
chance of gaining his attention. Over the years infatuation had matured into
something deeper and more abiding.
Sophy had been drawn to the quiet power and the innate pride and integrity she
sensed in Ravenwood. In the realm of her most secret dreams she thought of him
as noble in a way that had nothing to do with his inherited title.
When the dazzling Elizabeth had succeeded in turning the fascination Ravenwood