"Goddamn it, Sophy, I thought you were leaving with your lover."
She stared at him. "Lover? What lover?"
"You may be assured that was one of the many questions I asked myself as I rode
after you. I did not even know which bastard among all the bastards in London
was taking you away."
"Oh, for heaven's sake, Julian, that was a perfectly stupid conclusion for you
to arrive at."
"Was it?"
"It most certainly was. What on earth would I want with another man? I cannot
seem to handle the one I've got." She swung around and went to the door.
"Sophy, stop right where you are. Where do you think you're going? I'm not
through with you."
"But I am quite through with you, my lord. Through with being berated for trying
to do the honorable thing. Through with trying to make you fall in love with me.
Through with any attempt to create a marriage based on mutual respect and
affection."
"Damn it, Sophy."
"Do not worry, my lord. I have learned my lesson. From now on you will have
exactly the sort of marriage you desire. I will endeavor to stay out of your
way. I shall occupy myself with other more important matters— matters which I
should have put first right from the start."
"Will you, indeed?" he snarled. "And what about this great love you say you have
for me?"
"You need not worry. I will not speak of it again. I realize to do so would only
embarrass you and further humiliate me. I assure you, I have been humiliated
enough by you to last me a lifetime."
Julian's expression softened slightly. "Sophy, my dear, come back here and be
seated. I have much to say to you."
"I do not wish to listen to any more of your tiresome lectures. Do you know
something, Julian? I find your male code of honor to be quite silly. Standing
twenty paces apart in the cold air of dawn while blazing away at one another
with pistols is a senseless way to resolve an argument."
"On that point, I assure you we are in complete agreement, madam."
"I doubt it. You would have gone through with it without questioning the entire
process. Charlotte and I, on the other hand, discussed the subject at some
length."
"You stood there talking about it?" Julian asked in amazement.
"Of course we did. We are women, my lord, and thus eminently more suited than
men to an intellectual discussion of such issues. We had just been informed that
an apology would resolve everything honorably and thereby make any shooting
unnecessary when you had to come thundering up out of nowhere and proceed to
interfere in something that was none of your business."
Julian groaned. "I do not believe this. Featherstone was going to apologize to
you?"
"Yes, I believe she was. She is a woman of honor and she recognized that she
owed me an apology. And I will tell you something, my lord, she was right when
she said that no man was worth getting up at such an ungodly hour for the
purpose of risking a bullet."
Sophy let herself out of the library and closed the door very quietly behind
her. She told herself to take what satisfaction she could from having had the
exit line this time. It was all she was going to get from the whole miserable
affair.
Tears burned in her eyes. She dashed upstairs and headed for her room to shed
them in solitude.
A long time later, she lifted her head from her folded arms, went to the basin
to wash her face and then sat down at her writing table. Picking up a pen, she
adjusted a sheet of paper in front of her and composed one more letter to
Charlotte Featherstone.
Dear Miss C. E:
Enclosed please find the sum of two hundred pounds. I do not send this to you
because of your promise to refrain from printing certain letters; rather because
I do feel quite strongly that your many admirers owe you the same consideration
they owe their wives. After all, they seem to have enjoyed the same sort of
relationship with you that they have with the women they marry. Thus, they have
an obligation to provide you with a pension. The enclosed draft is our mutual
friend's share of the pension owed to you. I wish you good luck with your
cottage in Bath.
Yours, S.
Sophy reread the note and sealed it. She would give it to Anne to deliver. Anne
seemed to know how to handle that sort of thing.
And that ended the whole fiasco, Sophy thought as she leaned back in her chair.
She had told Julian the truth. She had, indeed, learned a valuable lesson this
morning. There was no point trying to win her husband's respect by living up to
his masculine code of honor.
And she already knew she stood little chance of winning his love.
All in all there did not seem to be much point in spending any more time working
on her marriage. It was quite hopeless to try to alter the rules Julian had laid
down for it. She was trapped in this velvet prison and she would have to make
the best of it. From now on she would go her own way and live her own life. She
and Julian would meet occasionally at routs and balls and in the bedchamber.
She would undertake to give him his heir and he, in return, would see that she
was well dressed and well fed and well housed for the rest of her life. It was
not a bad bargain, she reflected, just a very lonely, empty one.
It did not promise to be the kind of marriage she had longed for but at least
she was finally facing reality, Sophy decided. And, she reminded herself as she
got to her feet, she had other things to do here in London. She had wasted
enough time trying to win Julian's love and affection. He had none to give.
And, as she had told Julian, she had another project to keep her occupied. It
was past time she gave her full attention to the matter of finding her sister's
seducer.
Resolved to devote herself to that task, Sophy went to the wardrobe to examine
the gypsy costume she planned to wear that evening to Lady Musgrove's masquerade
ball. She stood contemplating the colorful gown, scarf and mask for some time
and then she glanced at her small jewelry case.
She needed a plan of action, a way to draw out those who might know something
about the black ring.
Inspiration struck suddenly. What better way to start her quest for the truth
than to wear the ring at a masquerade ball where her own identity was a secret?
It would be interesting to see if anyone noticed the ring and commented on it.
If so, she might begin to pick up a few clues about its previous owner.
But the ball was hours away and she had been up for a long time already. Sophy
discovered she was physically and emotionally exhausted. She went over to the
bed with the intention of taking a brief nap and was sound asleep within
minutes.
Downstairs in the library Julian stood staring at the empty hearth. Sophy's
remark that no man was worth the effort of rising at dawn to risk a bullet
burned in his ears. He had made a similar remark after fighting his last duel
over Elizabeth.
But this morning Sophy had done exactly that, Julian thought. God help him, she
had done the inconceivable, for a respectable woman. She had challenged a famous
courtesan to a duel and then she had risen at dawn with the intention of risking
her neck over a question of honor.
And all because his wife thought herself in love with him and could not bear to
see his love letters to another woman in print.
He could only be thankful Charlotte had apparently refrained from mentioning
that the pearl earrings she had worn to the dawn meeting had been a gift from
him years ago. He had recognized them at once. If Sophy had known about the
earrings she would have been twice as incensed. The fact that Charlotte had not
taunted her younger opponent with the pearls said a great deal about
Featherstone's respect for the woman who had called her out.
Sophy had a right to be angry, Julian thought wearily. He had made a great deal
of money available to her but he had not been very generous with her when it
came to the sort of gifts a woman expected from a husband. If a courtesan
deserved pearls, what did a sweet, passionate, tenderhearted, faithful wife
deserve?
But he had given little thought to buying Sophy anything in the way of jewelry.
He knew it was because part of him was still obsessed with recovering the
emeralds. As hopeless as that now appeared, Julian still found it difficult to
contemplate the thought of the Countess of Ravenwood wearing anything other than
the Ravenwood family gems.
Nevertheless, there was no reason he could not buy Sophy some small, expensive
trinket that would satisfy her woman's pride. He made a note to pick up
something at the jeweler's that very afternoon.
Julian left the library and went slowly upstairs to his room. The relief that
had soared through him when he had first realized Sophy had not left the house
to go off with another man did not do much to quench the chill he felt every
time he realized she might have been killed.
Julian swore softly and told himself not to think about it any more. He would
only succeed in driving himself crazy.
It was obvious Sophy had meant what she said last night when she had shuddered
in his arms. She really did believe herself to be in love with him.
It was understandable that Sophy might not fully comprehend her own feelings,
Julian reminded himself. The difference between passion and love was not always
readily discernible. He could certainly testify to that fact.
But it would certainly do no harm for Sophy to believe herself in love with him,
Julian decided. He did not really mind indulging this particular romantic
fantasy.
Filled with a sudden need to hear her tell him once again exactly why she had
felt compelled to confront Charlotte Featherstone, Julian opened the connecting
door to Sophy's bedchamber. The question died on his lips as he studied her
figure on the bed.
She was curled up, sound asleep. Julian walked over and stood looking down at
her for a moment. She really is very sweet and innocent, he thought. Looking at
her now, a man would have a hard time imagining her in the sort of proud rage
she had been in a short while ago.
But, then, looking at her now a man would also have trouble imagining the warm
tide of womanly passion that ran through her. Sophy was proving to be a female
of many interesting aspects.
Out of the corner of his eye he spotted a pile of daintily embroidered
handkerchiefs wadded up on the little zebrawood writing table. It was not
difficult to figure out how the little squares of fabric had come to get so
sadly crumpled.
Elizabeth had always shed her tears in front of him, Julian reflected. She had
been able to cry gloriously at a moment's notice. But Sophy had come up to her
room to cry alone. He winced as an odd sensation very much like guilt went
through him. He pushed it aside. He'd had a right to be furious with Sophy
today. She could have gotten herself killed.
And then what would I have done?
She must be exhausted, Julian decided. Unwilling to wake her, he reluctantly
turned around to go back to his own room. Then he spotted the wildly patterned
gypsy costume hanging in the open wardrobe and remembered Sophy's plans to
attend the Musgrove masquerade that evening.
Normally he had even less interest in masquerade balls than he did in the opera.
He had intended to allow his aunt to escort Sophy this evening. But now it
struck him that it might be wise to drop into Lady Musgrove's later tonight.
It suddenly seemed important to demonstrate to Sophy that he thought more of her
than he did of his ex-mistress.
If he hurried he could get to the jeweler's and back before Sophy awoke.
"Sophy, I have been so worried. Are you all right? Did he beat you? I was
certain he would not allow you out of the house for a month." Anne, wearing a
red-and-white domino and a glittering silver mask that concealed the upper half
of her face leaned anxiously forward to whisper to her friend.
The huge ballroom was filled with costumed men and women. Colored lanterns had
been strung overhead and dozens of huge potted plants had been placed
strategically about to create the effect of an indoor garden.
Sophy grimaced behind her own mask as she recognized Anne's voice. "No, of
course he did not beat me and as you can see I have not been imprisoned. But he
did not understand any of it, Anne."
"Not even why you did it?"
"Least of all that."
Anne nodded soberly. "I was afraid he would not. I fear Harriett is quite right
when she says men do not even allow women to claim the same sense of honor they
possess."
"Where is Jane?"
"She's here." Anne glanced around the crowded ballroom. "Wearing a dark blue
satin domino. She's terribly afraid you will shun her forever after what she did
this morning."
"Of course I will not shun her. I know she only did what she felt was best. It
was all a complete disaster from the beginning."
A figure in a blue domino had materialized at Sophy's elbow. "Thank you, Sophy,"
Jane said humbly. "It's true that I did what I thought was best."