Daregate putting down his hand of cards and getting languidly to his feet.
"Good evening, Ravenwood," Waycott said blandly as Julian came to a halt in
front of him. "Enjoy the opera this evening? I saw your lovely bride there
although it was difficult to spot her in the crowd. But, then, I was naturally
looking for the Ravenwood emeralds."
"My wife is not the gaudy type," Julian murmured. "I think she looks best when
dressed in a simple, more classic style."
"Do you indeed? And does she agree with you? Women do love their jewels. You of
all men should have learned that lesson."
Julian lowered his voice but kept the edge on his words. "When it comes to the
important matters, my wife defers to my wishes. She trusts my judgment not only
in regard to her attire but also in regard to her acquaintances."
"Unlike your first wife, eh?" Waycott's eyes were glittering with malice. "What
makes you so certain the new Lady Ravenwood will be guided by you, Ravenwood?
She seems an intelligent young woman, if a little naive. I suspect she will soon
begin to rely on her own judgment in both her attire and her acquaintances. And
then you will be in much the same position as you were in your first marriage,
won't you?"
"If I ever have cause to suspect that Sophy's notions are being shaped by
someone other than myself, then I will have no option but to take steps to
remedy the situation."
"What makes you believe you can remedy such a situation?" Waycott grinned
lazily. "You had very little luck doing so in the past."
"There is a difference this time around,' Julian said calmly.
"And what would that be?"
"This time I will know exactly where to look should any potential threat to my
wife arise. I will not be slow to crush that threat."
There was a cold fever burning in Waycott's eyes now. "Should I take that as a
warning?"
"I leave you to your own judgment, unsound though it is." Julian inclined his
head mockingly.
Waycott's hand tightened into a clenched fist and the fever in his eyes grew
hot. "Damn you, Ravenwood," he hissed very softly, "If you think you have cause
to call me out, then get on with it."
"But I have no cause as of yet, do I?" Julian asked silkily.
"There is always the matter of Elizabeth," Waycott challenged tightly. His
fingers flexed and unflexed nervously.
"You credit me with far too rigid a code of honor," Julian said. "I would
certainly never bother to get up at dawn in order to kill a man because of
Elizabeth. She was not worth that much effort."
Waycott's cheeks were stained red with his frustration and fury. "You have
another wife now. Will you allow yourself to be cuckolded a second time,
Ravenwood?"
"No," Julian said very quietly. "Unlike Elizabeth, Sophy is, indeed, worth the
effort of killing a man and I would not hesitate to do so should it become
necessary."
"You bastard. You were the one who was not worthy of Elizabeth. And do not be
bothered to issue threats. We all know you will never challenge me or any other
man again because of a woman. You said so, yourself, remember?" Waycott took a
menacing step forward.
"Did I?" A surge of anticipation shot through Julian. But before anything more
could be said by either man Daregate and Thurgood materialized at Julian's side.
"There you are, Ravenwood," Daregate said smoothly to Julian. "Thurgood and I
have been looking for you. We mean to persuade you into giving us a hand or two
of cards. You will excuse us, Waycott?" He flashed his slightly cruel, taunting
smile.
Waycott's blond head moved in a jerky nod. He turned on his heel and strode out
of the room.
Julian watched him leave, feeling a savage disappointment. "I don't know why you
bothered to interfere," he remarked to his friends. "Sooner or later I will
probably have to kill him."
NINE
The scented letter with the elegant lilac seal arrived on the side of Sophy's
tea tray the next morning. She sat up in bed, yawning and glanced curiously at
the unexpected missive.
"When did this arrive, Mary?"
"One of the footmen said it was brought round by a lad not more than a half hour
ago, my lady." Mary bustled about the room, drawing the curtains and laying out
a pretty cotton morning dress that had been chosen by Fanny and Sophy a few days
earlier.
Sophy sipped tea and slit the seal on the envelope. Idly she scanned the
contents and then frowned as she realized they made no sense at first. There was
no signature, just initials in the closing. It took her a second reading to
comprehend the import of the letter.
Dear Madam:
First, allow me to begin by offering you my most sincerely felt felicitations on
the occasion of your recent marriage. I have never had the honor of being
introduced to you but I feel a degree of familiarity exists between us owing to
our having a certain mutual friend. I am also certain that you are a woman of
sensitivity and discretion as our friend is not the sort to make the same
mistake in a second marriage as he made in his first.
Having faith in your discretion, I believe that, once having read the contents
of this letter, you will wish to take the simple step that will ensure that the
details of my most agreeable association with our mutual friend remain private.
I am, Madam, presently engaged in the difficult task of assuring the peace and
tranquility of my old age. I do not wish to be forced to rely on charity in my
later years. I am achieving my goal by means of the publication of my Memoirs.
Perhaps you are familiar with the first installments? There will be several more
published in the near future.
My aim in writing these Memoirs is not to humiliate or embarrass, but rather
simply to raise sufficient funds to provide for an uncertain future. In that
light, I am offering an opportunity to those concerned to assure themselves that
specific names do not appear in print and thereby cause unpleasant gossip. This
same opportunity will also afford me the funds I seek without obliging me to
resort to revealing intimate details of past associations. As you can see, the
proposition I will put to you presently is beneficial to all involved.
Now, then, Madam, I come to the point: If you will send the sum of two hundred
pounds to me by five o'clock tomorrow afternoon you may rest assured that a
number of charming letters your husband once wrote to me do not appear in my
Memoirs.
To you such a sum of money is a mere pittance, less than the cost of a new gown.
To me it is a building block in the cozy little rose-covered cottage in Bath to
which I will soon retire. I look forward to hearing from you promptly.
I remain, Madam, yours very truly, C. E
Sophy reread the letter a third time, her hands shaking. She was dazed by the
flames of rage that burst to life within her. It was not the fact that Julian
might once have been intimately involved with Charlotte Featherstone that
infuriated her, she realized. It was not even the threat of having that past
association detailed in print, as humiliating as it would be, that left her
trembling with anger.
What made Sophy lightheaded with fury was the realization that Julian had once
taken the time to write love notes to a professional courtesan yet he could not
be bothered to jot so much as a simple love poem to his new wife.
"Mary, put away the morning dress and get out my green riding habit."
Mary glanced at her in surprise. "You have decided to ride this mornin', ma'am?"
"Yes, I have."
"Will Lord Ravenwood be going with you?" Mary inquired as she set to work.
"No, he will not." Sophy shoved back the covers and got to her feet, still
clutching Charlotte Featherstone's letter in one hand. "Anne Silverthorne and
Jane Morland ride nearly every morning in the park. I believe I will join them
today."
Mary nodded. "I'll send word to have a horse and a groom waitin' for you
downstairs, my lady."
"Please do that, Mary."
A short while later Sophy was assisted onto a fine chestnut mare by a liveried
groom who had his own pony waiting nearby. She set off at once for the park,
leaving the groom to follow as best he could.
It was not difficult to find Anne and Jane who were cantering along one of the
main paths. Their grooms followed at a discreet distance, chatting in low tones
with each other.
Anne's froth of red curls gleamed in the morning light and her vivid eyes
sparkled with welcome as she caught sight of Sophy.
"Sophy, I'm so glad you could join us this morning. We are just beginning our
ride. Isn't it a beautiful day?"
"For some, perhaps," Sophy allowed ominously. "But not for others. I must talk
with both of you."
Jane's perpetually serious gaze grew even darker with concern. "Is something
wrong, Sophy?"
"Very wrong. I cannot even bring myself to try to explain. It is beyond
anything. Never have I been so humiliated. Here. Read this." Sophy handed
Charlotte's letter to Jane as the three women slowed their horses to a walk
along the path.
"Good heavens," Jane breathed, looking stricken as she scanned the note. Without
another word she handed the letter to Anne.
Anne perused the missive quickly and then glanced up, clearly shocked. "She is
going to print the letters Ravenwood wrote to her?"
Sophy nodded, her mouth tight with anger. "So it seems. Unless, of course, I pay
her two hundred pounds."
"This is outrageous," Anne declared in ringing accents.
"Only to be expected, I suppose," Jane said more prosaically. "After all,
Featherstone has not hesitated to name several members of the Beau Monde in the
first installments. She even mentioned a royal Duke, remember? If Ravenwood was
associated with her at some time in the past, it is logical that his turn would
come sooner or later."
"How dare he!' Sophy whispered half under her breath.
Jane gave her a sympathetic glance. "Sophy, dear, you are not that naive. It is
the way of the world for most men in Society to have mistresses. At least she
does not claim that Ravenwood is still an admirer. Be grateful for that much."
"Grateful" Sophy could barely speak.
"You have read the first installments of the Memoirs along with the rest of us.
You have seen the number of well-known names Featherstone was associated with at
one time or another. Most of them were married during the time they were
involved with Charlotte Featherstone."
"So many men leading double lives." Sophy shook her head angrily. "And they have
the gall to lecture women on honor and proper behavior. It is infuriating."
"And so grossly unfair," Anne added vehemently. "Just one more example of why I
feel the married state has so little to offer an intelligent woman."
"Why did he have to write Featherstone those love letters?" Sophy asked in soft
anguish.
"If he put his feelings into writing, then the entire affair must have occurred
a long time ago. Only a very young man would make that mistake," Jane observed.
Ah, yes, thought Sophy. A young man. A young man who was still capable of strong
romantic emotion. It would seem that all such sentiment had been burned out of
Julian. The feelings she longed to hear him express to her he had squandered
years ago on women such as Charlotte Featherstone and Elizabeth. It would seem
there was nothing left for Sophy at all. Nothing.
In that moment she hated both Elizabeth and Charlotte with all the passion in
her soul.
"I wonder why Featherstone did not send this note to Ravenwood?" Anne mused.
Jane's mouth curved wryly. "Probably because she knew full well Ravenwood would
tell her to go to the devil. I do not see Sophy's husband paying blackmail, do
you?"
"I do not know him very well," Anne admitted, "but from all accounts, no, I do
not see him sending the two hundred pounds to Featherstone. Not even to spare
Sophy the humiliation that is bound to follow the publication of those horrid
letters."
"So," concluded Jane, "knowing she stands little chance of getting any money out
of Ravenwood, Featherstone has decided to try blackmailing Sophy, instead."
"I will never pay blackmail to that woman," Sophy vowed, her hands tightening so
abruptly on the reins that her mare tossed her head in startled protest.
"But what else can you do?" Anne asked gently. "Surely you do not want those
letters to appear in print. Only think of the gossip that will ensue."
"It will not be that bad," Jane said soothingly. "Everyone will know the affair
happened long before Ravenwood married Sophy."
"The timing of the affair will not matter," Sophy said dully. "There will be
talk and we all know it. This will not be simple gossip Featherstone will be
repeating. She will actually be printing letters that Julian himself wrote.
Everyone will be discussing those blasted love notes. Quoting them at parties
and the opera, no doubt. The entire ton will wonder if he has written similar
letters to me and perhaps plagiarized himself in the process. I cannot bear it,
I tell you."
"Sophy's right," Anne agreed. "And she is even more vulnerable because she is a