I to assume, my lord, that I may not rely upon your word as a gentleman?"
The insult went to the bone. "There is not a single man of my acquaintance who
would risk saying such a thing to me, madam."
"Are you going to call me out?" she asked with deep interest. "I should tell you
my grandfather taught me how to use his pistols. I am accounted a fair shot."
Julian wondered whether a gentleman's honor prevented him from beating his wife
on her wedding day. Somehow this marriage was not getting off to the smooth,
orderly start he had intended.
He looked at the bright, inquiring face opposite him and tried to think of a
response to Sophy's outrageous comment. At that moment the bit of ribbon that
had been dangling from her reticule fell to the floor of the carriage.
Sophy frowned and leaned forward quickly to pick it up. Julian moved
simultaneously and his big hand brushed against her small one.
"Allow me," he said coolly, picking up the stray bit of ribbon and dropping it
into her palm.
"Thank you," she said, slightly embarrassed. She began struggling furiously to
work the ribbon back into the design on her reticule.
Julian sat back, watching in fascination as another piece of ribbon came loose.
Before his eyes, the entire intricately worked pattern of ribbon trim began to
unravel. In less than five minutes Sophy was sitting with a totally demolished
reticule. She looked up with a bewildered gaze.
"I have never understood why this sort of thing is always happening to me," she
said.
Without a word Julian took the reticule off her lap, opened it and dropped all
the stray bits of ribbon inside.
As he handed the purse back to her he experienced the disquieting sensation that
he had just opened Pandora's box.
THREE
Midway through the second week of her honeymoon on Julian's Norfolk estate,
Sophy began to fear that she had married a man who had a serious problem with
his after-dinner port.
Up until that point she had tentatively begun to enjoy her wedding trip.
Eslington Park was situated against a serene backdrop of wooded knolls and lush
pasture lands. The house itself was stolid and dignified in the classically
inspired Palladian tradition that had been fashionable during the last century.
There was an aging, heavy feel to the interior but Sophy thought there was hope
for the well-proportioned rooms with their tall windows. She looked forward to
doing some redecorating.
In the meantime she had gloried in daily rides with Julian during which they
explored the woods, meadows, and rich farmlands he had recently acquired. He had
introduced her to his newly appointed steward, John Fleming, and seemed
positively grateful when Sophy took no offense at the long hours he spent
plotting the future of Eslington Park with the earnest young man.
Julian had also taken pains to introduce Sophy, as well as himself, to all the
tenants on the property. He had seemed pleased when Sophy had admired sheep and
assorted specimens of agricultural produce with a knowledgeable eye. There are
some advantages to being country-bred, Sophy privately decided. At least such a
woman had something intelligent to say to a husband who obviously had a love for
the land.
More than once Sophy found herself wondering if Julian would ever develop a
similar love for his new bride.
The tenants and neighbors had been in suspense awaiting the arrival of their new
lord. But after Julian had accompanied several of the farmers into barns with
total disregard for the polish on his elegant riding boots, the word went around
that the new master of Eslington knew what he was about when it came to farming
and sheep raising.
Sophy was readily accepted after she had cooed over a few plump babies, frowned
in deep concern over a few sick ones, and held several learned discussions on
the subject of the use of local herbs in home remedies. More than once Julian
had been obliged to wait patiently while his wife exchanged a recipe for a cough
syrup or a digestive aid with a farmer's wife.
He seemed to find it amusing to remove bits of straw from Sophy's hair after she
had emerged from the close confines of a small cottage.
"You are going to make me a fine wife, Sophy," he had remarked with satisfaction
during the third day of such visiting. "I chose well this time."
Sophy had hugged her pleasure at his words to herself and managed a laughing
smile. "By that remark, I collect you mean I have the potential to become a good
farmer's wife?"
"When all is said and done, that is precisely what I am, Sophy. A farmer." He
had looked out over the landscape with the pride of a man who knows he owns
everything he sees. "And a good farm wife will suit me well."
"You speak as if I will someday become this paragon," she had pointed out
softly. "I would remind you that I am already your wife."
He had flashed her the devil's own smile. "Not yet, my sweet, but soon. Much
sooner than you had planned."
The staff at Eslington Park was well trained and commendably efficient, although
Sophy privately winced when servants nearly tripped over their own feet
endeavoring to anticipate Julian's orders. They were obviously wary of their new
master, although simultaneously proud to serve such an important man.
They had heard the rumors of his quick, ruthless temper from the coachman,
groom, valet, and lady's maid who had accompanied Lord and Lady Ravenwood to
Eslington, however, and were taking no chances.
All in all, the honeymoon was going quite well. The only thing that had marred
her stay in Norfolk as far as Sophy was concerned was the subtle, but
deliberate, pressure Julian was applying in the evenings. It was beginning to
make her quite nervous.
It was obvious Julian did not intend to stay out of her bed for the next three
months. He fully expected to be able to seduce her long before the stipulated
time had passed.
Until the point when she had begun to notice his growing fondness for port after
dinner, Sophy had been fairly certain she could handle the situation. The trick
was to control her own responses to his increasingly intimate good-night kisses.
If she could manage that she was quite convinced Julian would honor the letter,
if not the spirit of his word. She sensed instinctively his pride would not
allow him to sink to the level of using force to gain access to her bed.
But the increasing consumption of port worried her. It added a new and dangerous
element to an already tense situation. She remembered all too well the night her
sister Amelia had returned from one of her secret assignations and tearfully
explained that a gentleman in his cups was capable of violent language and
bestial behavior. Amelia's soft white arms had been marked with bruises that
night. Sophy had been furious and demanded once more to know the name of
Amelia's lover. Amelia had again refused to say.
"Have you told this fine lover of yours that Dorrings have been Ravenwood
neighbors for generations? If Grandfather finds out what is happening, he will
go straight to Lord Ravenwood and see that a stop is put to this nonsense!'
Amelia sniffed back more tears. I have made certain my dear love does not know
who my grandfather is for that very reason. Oh, Sophy, don't you understand? I
am afraid that if my sweet love discovers I am a Dorring and thus a
granddaughter of such a close neighbor of Ravenwood, he will not take the chance
of meeting me again."
"You would let your lover abuse you rather than tell him who you are?" Sophy had
asked incredulously.
"You do not know what it is to love," Amelia had whispered and then she had
sobbed herself to sleep.
Amelia had been wrong, Sophy knew. She did know what it was to love but she was
trying to deal with the dangers of the emotion in a more intelligent manner than
her poor sister had done. She would not make Amelia's mistakes.
Sophy silently endured the growing anxiety over the matter of Julian's port
consumption for several tense evenings before she broached the subject of his
heavy drinking.
"Do you have trouble sleeping, my lord?" she finally inquired during the second
week of her marriage. They were seated before the fire in the crimson drawing
room. Julian had just helped himself to another large glass of port.
He regarded her with hooded eyes. "Why do you ask?"
"Forgive me, but I cannot help but notice that your taste for port is increasing
in the evenings. People frequently use sherry or port or claret to aid them in
getting to sleep. Are you accustomed to imbibing so much at night?"
He drummed his fingers on the arm of his chair and considered her for a long
moment. "No," he finally said and drank half of his port in one gulp. "It
disturbs you?"
Sophy focused her attention on her embroidery. "If you are having trouble
sleeping there are more efficacious remedies. Bess taught me many of them."
"Are you proposing to dose me with laudanum?"
"No. Laudanum is effective but I would not resort to it as a remedy for poor
sleep unless other tonics had failed. If you like I can prepare a mixture of
herbs for you to try. I brought my medicine chest with me."
"Thank you, Sophy. I believe I shall continue to rely on my port. I understand
it and it understands me."
Sophy's brows rose inquiringly. "What is there to understand, my lord?"
"Do you wish me to be blunt, Madam Wife?"
"Of course." She was surprised at such a question. "You know I prefer free and
open conversation between us. You are the one who occasionally experiences
difficulty in discussing certain matters, not I."
"I give you fair warning, this is not a matter you will care to discuss."
"Nonsense. If you are having difficulty sleeping, I am certain there is a better
cure than port."
"On that we agree. The question, my dear, is whether you are willing to provide
the cure."
The lazy, taunting quality of his voice brought her head up swiftly. She found
herself looking straight into his glittering green gaze. And suddenly she
understood.
"I see," she managed to say calmly. "I had not realized our agreement would
cause you such physical discomfort, my lord."
"Now that you are aware of it, would you care to consider releasing me from my
bond?"
A length of embroidery floss snapped in her hand. Sophy glanced down at the
dangling threads. "I thought everything was going rather well, my lord," she
said distantly.
"I know you did. You have been enjoying yourself here at Eslington Park, haven't
you, Sophy?"
"Very much, my lord."
"Well, so have I. In certain respects. But in other respects, I am finding this
honeymoon extremely tiresome." He tossed off the remainder of the port. "Damned
tiresome. The fact is, our situation is unnatural, Sophy."
She sighed with deep regret. "I suppose this means you would prefer that we cut
short our honeymoon?"
The empty crystal glass snapped between his fingers. Julian swore and dusted the
delicate shards from his hands. "It means," he stated grimly, "that I would like
to make this a normal marriage. It is my duty as well as my pleasure to insist
that we do so."
"Are you so very anxious to get on with producing your heir?"
"I am not thinking about my future heir at the moment. I am thinking about the
current Earl of Ravenwood. I am also thinking about the present Countess of
Ravenwood. The chief reason you are not suffering as I am, Sophy, is because you
do not yet know what you are missing."
Sophy's temper flared. "You need not be so odiously condescending, my lord. I am
a country girl, remember? I have been raised around animals all my life and I
have been called in to help with the birthing of a babe or two in my time. I am
well aware of what goes on between husband and wife and, to be truthful, I do
not believe I am missing anything terribly elevating."
"It is not intended to be an intellectual exercise, madam. It is a physical
pursuit."
"Like riding a horse? If you don't mind my saying so, it sounds rather less
rewarding. At least when one rides a horse, one accomplishes something useful
such as arriving at a given destination."
"Perhaps it is time you learned what sort of destination awaits you in the
bedchamber, my dear."
Julian was on his feet, reaching for her before Sophy quite realized what was
happening. He snatched her embroidery from her fingers and tossed it aside. Then
his arms went around her and he dragged her close against him. She knew when she
looked up into his intent face that this would not be just one more of the
coaxing, persuasive good-night kisses she had been receiving lately.
Alarmed, Sophy pushed at his shoulders. "Stop it, Julian. I have told you I do
not wish to be seduced."
"I'm beginning to think it's my duty to seduce you. This damned agreement of
yours is too hard on me, little one. Have pity on your poor husband. I shall
undoubtedly expire from sheer frustration if I am obliged to wait out the three
months. Sophy, stop fighting me.'