voice now. "A pair of earrings, perhaps? A necklace?"
Sophy struggled and failed to release her fingers from Julian's powerful grip.
"I have a strong hunch your lady would appreciate a rose you had picked by hand
or a love letter or a few verses conveying some affection from you far more than
she would jewelry, sir."
Julian's fingers relaxed. "Ah, you think she is a romantic at heart? I had begun
to suspect that, myself."
"I think she simply knows that it is very easy for a man to clear his conscience
with a gift of jewelry."
"Perhaps she will not be happy until she thinks me completely snared in the
coils of love," Julian suggested coolly.
"Would that be so bad, sir?"
"It is best if she understands that I am not susceptible to that sort of
emotion," Julian said gently.
"Perhaps she is learning the truth of that the hard way," Sophy said.
"Do you think so?"
"I think it very probable that she will soon prove herself intelligent enough to
refrain from pining for that which is unobtainable."
"And what will she do then?"
"She will endeavor to give you the sort of marriage you wish. One in which love
and mutual understanding are not important. She will stop wasting her time and
energy seeking ways to make you fall in love with her. She will busy herself
with other matters and live a life of her own."
Julian crushed her fingers again and his eyes glittered behind his mask. "Does
that mean she will seek other conquests?"
"No, sir, it does not. Your lady is the sort to give her heart but once and if
it is rejected she will not try to give it to another. She will simply pack it
away in cotton wool and busy herself with other projects."
"I did not say I would reject the gift of my lady's heart. Quite the opposite. I
would have her know that I would welcome such a treasure. I would take good care
of her and her love."
"I see," Sophy said. "You would have her hopelessly snared in the coils of love
at which you scoff but you would not take the risk, yourself. That is your way
of mastering her?"
"Do not put words in my mouth, Madam Gypsy. The lady in question is my wife,"
Julian stated categorically. "It would be convenient for all concerned if she
also happens to love me. I merely want to assure her that her love is safe with
me."
"Because you could then use that love to control her?"
"Do all fortune-tellers interpret their clients' words so broadly?"
"If you do not feel you are getting your money's worth, you need not concern
yourself. I do not intend to charge you for this particular fortune."
"Thus far you have not told me my fortune. You have only tried to give me a
great deal of advice," Julian said.
"It was my understanding you sought a way to change your luck."
"Why don't you simply tell me if there is any luck to be had in my future?"
Julian suggested.
"Unless you are willing to change your ways I am sure you will get exactly the
sort of marriage you wish, sir. Your wife will go her own way and you will go
yours. You will probably see her as often as it proves necessary to ensure
yourself of an heir and she will endeavor to stay out of your way the rest of
the time."
"It sounds to me as if my wife intends to sulk throughout the remainder of our
marriage," Julian observed dryly. "A daunting prospect.' He adjusted Sophy's
scarf again as it threatened to slide to the floor and then his fingertips
traced the shape of the black metal ring she wore. He glanced idly down at her
hand. "A most unusual piece of jewelry, Madam Gypsy. Do all fortune-tellers wear
a ring such as this?"
"No. It is a keepsake." She hesitated as a jolt of fear went through her. "Do
you recognize it, sir?"
"No, but it is singularly ugly. Who gave it to you?"
"It belonged to my sister," Sophy said cautiously. She told herself to be calm,
Julian was only showing mild curiosity about the ring. "I wear it sometimes to
remind me of her fate."
"And what was her fate?" Julian was watching her steadily now as if he could see
beneath her mask.
"She was foolish enough to love a man who did not love her in return," Sophy
whispered. "Perhaps, like you, he simply was not susceptible to the emotion but
he did not mind in the least that she was very susceptible. She gave her heart
and it cost her her life."
"I think you draw the wrong lessons from your sister's sad story," Julian said
gently.
"Well, I certainly do not intend to kill myself," Sophy retorted. "But I also do
not intend to give a valuable gift to a man who is incapable of appreciating it.
Excuse me, sir, I believe I see some friends of mine standing near the window. I
must speak to them." Sophy made to slide away from Julian's grasp.
"What about my fortune?" Julian demanded, holding her with a grip on the ends of
her scarf.
"Your fortune is in your own hands, sir." Sophy deftly slipped out from under
the scarf and fled into the crowd.
Julian was left in the middle of the dance floor, the colorful silk scarf
trailing from his strong fingers. He stood contemplating it for a long moment
and then, with a slow smile, folded it up and tucked it into an inside cloak
pocket. He knew where to find his gypsy lady later tonight.
Still smiling slightly to himself, he went outside to call for his carriage.
Aunt Fanny and Harriett would see Sophy safely home as planned. Julian decided
he could afford to spend an hour or so at one of his clubs before returning to
the house.
He was in a much more cheerful mood than he had been earlier that day and the
reason was clear. It was true Sophy was still angry with him, still feeling
defiant and hurt by his failure to condone her actions that morning. But he had
satisfied himself that she had been telling the truth, as usual, when she had
claimed to be in love with him.
He had been almost certain of it when he'd found the bracelet flung in a heap on
his pillow this afternoon. It was why he had not barged straight into her
bedchamber and put the bracelet on her wrist himself. Only a woman in love would
hurl such an expensive gift back in a man's face and hold out for a sonnet
instead.
He was no good at sonnets, but he might try his hand at a short note to
accompany the bracelet the next time he tried to give it to Sophy.
More than ever he wished he knew the fate of the emeralds. The new Countess of
Ravenwood would look very good in them. He could envision her wearing the stones
and nothing else.
The image danced in his mind for a moment, causing his groin to grow heavy and
taut. Later, Julian promised himself. Later he would take his gypsy lady into
his arms and touch her and kiss her until she cried out her response, until she
pleaded with him for fulfillment, until she told him again of her love.
Julian discovered that now he had heard the words, he was suddenly very hungry
to hear them again.
He was not overly concerned about her threat to wrap her heart in cotton wool
and stow it away on the shelf. He was getting to know her and if there was one
thing of which he was increasingly certain, it was that Sophy could not long
ignore the tug of the tender, honest emotions that flowed so vibrantly in her
veins.
Unlike Elizabeth, who was a victim of her own wild passions, Sophy was a victim
of her own heart. But she was a woman and she lacked the strength necessary to
protect herself from those who would abuse her nature. She needed him to take
care of her.
The trick now was to make her understand that she not only needed him, she could
trust him with her love.
That thought brought the image of the black metal ring to mind. Julian scowled
in the darkness of the carriage. He did not like the idea that Sophy had taken
to wearing the memento of her sister. Not only was it unattractive, as he had
told her, but it was obvious she was using it to remind herself that it was
never wise to give one's heart to a man who did not love in return.
Daregate emerged from the card room as Julian walked into his club and took a
seat near a bottle of port. There was a glitter of cold amusement in Daregate's
eyes when he spotted his friend. One look at his face and Julian knew word of
what had happened at Leighton Field had leaked out.
"There you are, Ravenwood." Daregate clapped him on the shoulder and dropped
into the nearest chair. "I was worried about you, my friend. Breaking up duels
is a dangerous business. Could have gotten yourself shot. Women and pistols
don't mix well, you know."
Julian fixed him with a quelling look that had predictably little effect. "How
did you hear such nonsense?"
"Ah, so it is true," Daregate observed with satisfaction. "I thought it might
be. Your lady is just spirited enough to do it and God knows Featherstone is
eccentric enough to meet her."
Julian gave him a steady look. "I asked how you heard of it?"
Daregate poured himself a class of port. "By merest chance, I assure you. Do not
worry. It is not common knowledge and will not become so."
"Featherstone?" Julian vowed he would make good on his promise to ruin her if
she had, indeed talked.
"No. You may rest assured she is saying nothing. I got it secondhand from my
valet who happened to attend a boxing match this afternoon with the man who
handles Feather-stone's horses. He told my man he'd had to get Featherstone's
rig out before dawn this morning."
"And just how did the groom figure out what was happening?"
"It seems the groom is dallying with one of Featherstone's maids who told him a
certain lady of quality had taken exception to one of Featherstone's little
blackmail notes. There was no name mentioned, which is why you are safe.
Apparently the principals in this little matter all have some sense of
discretion. But when I heard the story I guessed Sophy might have been the
offended party. Can't think of any other lady with the guts to do such a thing."
Julian swore under his breath. "One word of this to anyone else and I swear I
will have your head, Daregate."
"Now, Julian, don't be angry." Daregate's smile was fleeting but surprisingly
genuine. "This is just servant gossip and will soon die out. As I said, there
was no name mentioned. As long as none of the principals talk, you can brazen it
out. If I were you, I'd be flattered. Personally, I cannot think of any other
man who's wife would think enough of him to call out his mistress."
"Ex-mistress," Julian muttered. "Kindly remember that. I have spent altogether
too much time explaining that fact to Sophy."
Daregate chuckled. "But did she comprehend your explanations, Ravenwood? Wives
can be a little thickheaded about such things."
"How would you know? You've never bothered to marry."
"I am capable of learning by observation," Daregate said smoothly.
Julian's brows lifted. "You may have ample opportunity to put what you have
learned into practice if that uncle of yours continues in his present ways.
There's a good chance he'll either get himself killed by a jealous husband or
else he'll drink himself to death."
"Either way, by the time his fate catches up with him there will be very little
chance of salvaging the estate," Daregate said with sudden savagery. "He has
gutted it and drained the blood from its carcass."
Before Julian could respond to that, Miles Thurgood strolled over to sit down
nearby. It was obvious he had overheard Daregate's last words.
"If you do inherit the title, the solution is obvious," Miles said reasonably.
"You will simply have to find yourself a rich heiress. Come to think of it, that
redheaded friend of Sophy's is probably going to be quite wealthy when her
stepfather finally has the decency to depart to the next world."
"Anne Silverthorne?" Daregate grimaced. "I'm told she has no intention of ever
marrying."
"I believe Sophy felt very much the same way, " Julian murmured. He thought
about the young woman in boy's garb who had been handling the pistols that
morning and frowned as he recalled the red hair stuffed under a cap. In fact, I
think I can assure you that they have far too much in common. Come to think of
it, you would be wise to avoid her, Daregate. She would give you as much trouble
as Sophy is presently giving me."
Daregate slanted him a curious look. "I will keep that in mind. If I do inherit,
I will have my hands full salvaging the estate. The last thing I would need
would be a wild, headstrong wife like Sophy."
"My wife is neither wild nor headstrong," Julian stated unequivocally.
Daregate gazed at him thoughtfully. "You are right. Elizabeth was wild and
headstrong. Sophy is merely high-spirited. She is nothing like your first
countess, is she?"
"Nothing like her at all." Julian poured himself a glass of port. "I think it's
time we changed the subject."
"Agreed," Daregate said. "The prospect of having to find myself a rich, willing
heiress to marry in order to save the estate is almost enough to make me wish
long life and good health to my dear uncle."
"Almost," Miles repeated with amused insight, "but not quite enough. If that