content with spending the majority of my time at Ravenwood Abbey. And I won't be
trailing my paramours behind me wherever I go. I was a total failure during my
one season in London and presumably would be an even greater failure if I went
out into Society again. Lord Ravenwood is well aware he will not have to waste
time fending off my admirers. There will not be any."
"Sophy," Lady Dorring said with fine dignity, "that is quite enough. I will
tolerate no more of this ridiculous conversation. It is most unseemly."
"Yes, Grandmother. But has it escaped your notice that unseemly conversations
are always the most interesting?"
"Not another word out of you, my girl. And the same goes for you, Theo."
"Yes, m'dear."
"I do not know," Lady Dorring informed them ominously, "if your conclusions
regarding Lord Ravenwood's motives are accurate or not, but I do know that on
one point, he and I are agreed. You, Sophy, should be extremely grateful to the
Earl."
"I did once have occasion to be grateful to his lordship," Sophy said wistfully.
"That was the time he very gallantly stood up with me at one of the balls I
attended during my season. I remember the event well. It was the only time I
danced all evening. I doubt he even remembers. He kept looking over my shoulder
the whole time to see who was dancing with his precious Elizabeth."
"Don't fret yourself about the first Lady Ravenwood. She's gone and no loss,"
Lord Dorring said with his usual straightforward attitude in such matters. "Take
my advice, young lady. Refrain from provoking Ravenwood and you'll get on quite
well with him. Don't expect more from him than is reasonable and he'll be a good
husband to you. The man looks after his land and he'll look after his wife. He
takes care of his own."
Her grandfather was undoubtedly right, Sophy decided later that night as she lay
awake in bed. She was reasonably certain that if she refrained from provoking
him excessively, Ravenwood would probably be no worse than most husbands. In any
event, she was not likely to see much of him. During the course of her single
season in town she had learned that husbands and wives of the ton tended to live
separate lives.
That would be to her advantage she told herself stoutly. She had interests of
her own to pursue. As Ravenwood's wife she would have time and opportunity to
make her investigations on behalf of poor Amelia. One day, Sophy vowed, she
would succeed in tracking down the man who had seduced and abandoned her sister.
During the past three years Sophy had managed to follow Old Bess's advice for
the most part and put her sister's death behind her. Her initial rage had slowly
settled into a bleak acceptance. After all, trapped in the country, there was
little hope of finding and confronting the unknown man responsible.
But things would be different if she married the Earl.
Restlessly Sophy pushed back the covers and climbed out of bed. She padded
barefoot across the threadbare carpet and opened the small jewelry case that sat
on the dressing table. It was easy to reach inside and find the black metal ring
without the aid of a candle. She had handled it often enough to recognize it by
touch. Her fingers closed around it.
The ring lay cold and hard in her hand as she drew it out of the case. Against
her palm she could feel the impression of the strange triangular design embossed
on its surface.
Sophy hated the ring. She had found it clutched in her sister's hand the night
Amelia had taken the overdose of laudanum. Sophy had known then that the black
ring belonged to the man who had seduced her beautiful fair-haired sister and
gotten her with child—the lover Amelia had refused to name. One of the few
things Sophy had deduced for certain was that the man had been one of Lady
Ravenwood's lovers.
The other thing of which Sophy was almost certain was that her sister and the
unknown man had used the ruins of an old Norman castle on Ravenwood land for
their secret rendezvous. Sophy had been fond of sketching the ancient pile of
stone until she had found one of Amelia's handkerchiefs there. She had
discovered it a few weeks after her sister's death. After that fateful day,
Sophy had never returned to the scenic ruin.
What better way to find out the identity of the man who had caused Amelia to
kill herself than to become the new Lady Ravenwood?
Sophy's hand clenched around the ring for a moment and then she dropped it back
into the jewelry chest. It was just as well she had a rational, sensible,
realistic reason for marrying the Earl of Ravenwood because her other reason for
marrying him was likely to prove a wild, fruitless quest.
For she intended to try to teach the devil to love again.
Julian sprawled with negligent grace in the well-sprung traveling coach and
regarded his new Countess with a critical eye. He had seen very little of Sophy
during the past few weeks. He had told himself there had been no need to make an
excessive number of trips from London to Hampshire. He had business to attend to
in town. Now he took the opportunity to scrutinize more closely the woman he had
chosen to provide him with an heir.
He regarded his bride, who had been a countess for only a few hours with some
surprise. As usual, however, there was a certain chaotic look about her person.
Several ringlets of tawny brown hair had escaped the confines of her new straw
bonnet. A feather on the bonnet was sticking out at an odd angle. Julian looked
closer and saw that the shaft had been broken. His gaze slipped downward and he
discovered a small piece of ribbon trim on Sophy's reticule was loose.
The hem of her traveling dress had a grass stain on it. He thought Sophy had
undoubtedly accomplished that feat when she had bent down to receive the fistful
of flowers from a rather grubby little farm lad. Everyone in the village had
turned out to wave farewell to Sophy as she had prepared to step into the
traveling coach. Julian had not realized his wife was such a popular figure in
the local neighborhood.
He was vastly relieved his new bride had made no complaint when he had informed
her that he intended a working honeymoon. He had recently acquired a new estate
in Norfolk and the obligatory month-long wedding trip was the perfect
opportunity to examine his newest holdings.
He was also obliged to admit Lady Dorring had done a creditable job
orchestrating the wedding. Most of the gentry in the surrounding countryside had
been invited. Julian had not bothered to invite any of his acquaintances from
London, however. The thought of going through a second wedding ceremony in front
of the same sea of faces that had been present as the first debacle was more
than he could stomach.
When the announcement of his forthcoming marriage had appeared in the Morning
Post he had been plagued with questions, but he had handled most of the
impertinent inquiries the way he usually handled such annoyances: he had ignored
them.
With one or two exceptions, his policy had worked. His mouth tightened now as he
recalled one of the exceptions.
A certain lady in Trevor Square had not been particularly pleased to learn of
Julian's marriage. But Marianne Harwood had been too shrewd and too pragmatic to
make more than a small scene. There were other fish in the sea. The earrings
Julian had left behind on the occasion of that last visit had gone a long way
toward soothing the ruffled features of La Belle Harwood.
"Is something wrong, my lord?" Sophy calmly broke into Julian's reverie.
Julian jerked his thoughts back to the present. "Not in the least. I was merely
recalling a small business matter I had to attend to last week."
"It must have been a very unpleasant business matter. You appeared quite
provoked. I thought for a moment you might have eaten a bad bit of meat pie."
Julian smiled faintly. "The incident was the sort that tends to interfere with a
man's digestion but I assure you I am in excellent condition now."
"I see." Sophy stared at him with her astonishingly level gaze for a moment
longer, nodded to herself and turned back to the window.
Julian scowled. "Now it's my turn to ask you if something is wrong, Sophy."
"Not in the least."
Arms folded across his chest, Julian contemplated the tassels on his polished
Hessians for a few seconds before he glanced up with a quizzical gleam in his
eye. "I think it would be best if we came to an understanding about one or two
small matters, Madam Wife."
She glanced at him. "Yes, my lord?"
"A few weeks ago you gave me your list of demands."
She frowned. "True, my lord."
"At the time I was busy and neglected to make up a list of my own."
"I already know your demands, my lord. You want an heir and no trouble."
"I would like to take this opportunity to be a bit more precise."
"You wish to add to your list? That's hardly fair, is it?"
"I did not say I was adding to the list, merely clarifying it." Julian paused.
He saw the wariness in her turquoise eyes and smiled slightly. "Don't look so
worried, my dear. The first item on my list, an heir, is plain enough. It's the
second item I wish to clarify."
"No trouble. It seems simple enough."
"It will be once you understand exactly what I mean by it."
"For example?"
"For example, it will save us both a great deal of trouble if you make it a
policy never to lie to me."
Her eyes widened. "I have no intention of doing any such thing, my lord."
"Excellent. Because you should know you would not be able to get away with it.
There is something about your eyes, Sophy, that would betray you every time. And
I would be most annoyed if I should detect a lie in your eyes. You understand me
perfectly?"
"Perfectly, my lord."
"Then let us return to my earlier question. I believe I asked you if anything
was wrong and you stated that there was nothing wrong. Your eyes say otherwise,
my dear."
She toyed with the loose ribbon on her reticule. "Am I to have no privacy for my
thoughts, my lord?"
He scowled. "Were your thoughts so very private at that moment that you felt
obliged to conceal them from your husband?"
"No," she said simply. "I merely assumed you would not be pleased if I spoke
them aloud so I kept them to myself."
He had set out to make a point but now Julian found himself swamped with
curiosity. "I would like to hear them, if you please."
"Very well, I was engaging in a bit of deductive logic, my lord. You had just
admitted that the business matters you had attended to prior to our marriage had
been most provoking and I was hazarding a guess as to what sort of business
matter you meant."
"And to what conclusion did your deductive logic lead you?"
"To the conclusion you had undoubtedly had some difficulty when you had informed
your current mistress that you were getting married. One had hardly blame the
poor woman. She has, after all, been doing all the work of a wife and now you
announce you intend to give the title to another applicant for the post. A
rather unskilled applicant, at that. I expect she enacted you a grand tragedy
and that was what provoked you. Tell me, is she an actress or a ballet dancer?"
Julian's first impulse was an absurd desire to laugh. He quelled it instantly in
the interests of husbandly discipline. "You overstep yourself, madam," he said
through his teeth.
"You are the one who demanded I tell you all my private thoughts." The loose
feather in her bonnet bobbed. "Will you agree now that there are times when I
should be allowed some privacy?"
"You should not be speculating about such things in the first place."
"I am quite certain you are right but unfortunately I have very little control
over my inner speculations."
"Perhaps you can be taught some measure of control," Julian suggested.
"I doubt it." She smiled at him suddenly and the warmth of that smile made
Julian blink. "Tell me," Sophy continued impishly, "was my guess accurate?"
"The business I attended to before leaving London last week is none of your
affair."
"Ah, I see the way of it now. I am to have no privacy for my speculations but
you are to have all the solitude you wish for your own. That hardly seems fair,
my lord. In any event, if my errant thoughts are going to upset you so much,
don't you think it would be better if I kept them to myself?"
Julian leaned forward without any warning and caught her chin in his fingers. It
occurred to him that her skin was very soft. "Are you teasing me, Sophy?"
She made no move to pull free of his hand. "I confess I am, my lord. You are so
magnificently arrogant, you see, that the temptation is sometimes irresistible."
"I understand irresistible temptation," he told her. "I am about to be overcome
by it, myself."
Julian eased over onto the seat beside her and wrapped his hands around her
small waist. He lifted her onto his thighs with one smooth motion and watched
with cool satisfaction as her eyes widened in alarm.
"Ravenwood," she gasped.
"That brings me to another matter on my list of clarified demands," he murmured.