Seduction

EIGHT

How on earth will Fanny and Harry find us in this crush?" Sophy anxiously surveyed the throng of carriages that filled the Haymarket near King's Theatre. "There must be over a thousand people here tonight."

"More like three thousand." Julian took her arm in a firm grip as he guided her into the fashionable theater. "But don't worry about Fanny and Harry. They'll have no trouble locating us."

"Why not?"

"Because the box they use is mine," Julian explained wryly as they made their way through the glittering crowd.

"Oh, I see. A convenient arrangement."

"Fanny has always thought so. It has saved her the cost of purchasing one of her own."

Sophy glanced at him. "You do not mind her using it, do you?"

Julian grinned. "No. She is one of the few members of the family I can tolerate for any length of time.

A few minutes later Julian escorted her into a plushly appointed box, well situated amid the five tiers of similar private boxes. Sophy sat down and gazed in fascination out over the great horseshoe auditorium. It was filled with bejeweled ladies and elegantly dressed men. Down in the pit, fops and dandies of all stripes were strolling about, showing off the extremes of fashion they favored. The sight of their ludicrously outrageous clothing made Sophy realize she took a secret pleasure in Julian's preference for subdued, conservatively cut garments.

It soon became apparent, however, that the real spectacle of the evening was not taking place down in the pits or on stage, but rather in the fashionable boxes.

"It's like looking at five tiers of miniature stages," Sophy exclaimed in laughing amusement. "Everyone is dressed to be on display and busy studying everyone else to see who is wearing what jewels and who is visiting whom in a box. I cannot see why you find the opera boring, Julian, with so much going on here in the audience."

Julian leaned back in his velvet chair and cocked a brow as he looked out over the auditorium. "You have a point, my dear. There is certainly more action up here than there is down on the stage."

He studied the rows of theater boxes in silence for a long moment. Sophy followed his gaze and saw it hesitate briefly on one specific box where a stunningly garbed woman held court amid several male admirers. Sophy watched her for a moment, suddenly curious about the attractive blond who seemed to be the center of much attention.

"Who is that woman, Julian?"

"Which woman?" Julian asked absently, his gaze moving on to survey the other boxes.

"The one in the third tier wearing the green gown. She must be very popular. She appears to be surrounded by men. I don't see any other women in the box."

"Ah, that woman," Julian glanced back briefly. "You need not concern yourself with her, Sophy. You are highly unlikely to meet her socially."

"One never knows, does one?"

"In this instance, I am quite certain."

"Julian, I cannot stand the mystery. Who is she?"

Julian sighed. "One of the Fashionable Impures," he explained in a tone that said he found the subject distinctly boring. "There are many here tonight. The boxes are their shop windows, so to speak."

Sophy's eyes widened. "Real ladies of the demimonde? They keep boxes here at King's Theatre?

"As I said, the boxes make excellent show cases for their, uh, wares."

Sophy was amazed. "But it must cost a fortune to take a box for the season."

"Not quite, but it is definitely not cheap," he admitted. "I believe the demireps see it as a business investment."

Sophy leaned forward intently. "Point out some of the other Fashionable Impures, Julian. I swear, one certainly cannot tell them apart from the ladies of quality just by looking at them, can one?"

Julian gave her a short, charged glance that was half-amused and half-rueful. "An interesting observation, Sophy. And in many cases, an accurate one, I fear. But there are a few exceptions. Some women have an unmistakable air of quality and it shows regardless of how they are dressed."

Sophy was too busy studying the boxes to notice the intent look he was giving her. "Which are the exceptions? Point one or two out, will you? I would dearly love to see if I can tell a demirep from a Duchess at a glance."

"Never mind, Sophy. I have indulged your lamentable curiosity enough for one evening. I think it's time we changed the subject."

"Julian, have you ever noticed how you always change the subject just as the conversation is getting particularly interesting?"

"Do I? How ill-mannered of me."

"I do not think you are the least bit sorry about your manners. Oh, look, there's Anne Silverthorne and her grandmother." Sophy signaled her friend with her fan and Anne promptly sent back a laughing acknowledgment from a nearby box. "Can we go and visit in her box, Julian?"

"Between acts, perhaps."

"That will be fun. Anne looks lovely tonight, doesn't she? That yellow dress looks wonderful with her red hair."

"Some would say the dress is cut a bit too low for a young woman who is not married," Julian said, slanting a brief, critical glance at Anne's gown.

"If Anne waits until she is married to wear a fashionable gown, she will wait forever. She has told me she will never wed. She holds the male sex in very low esteem and the institution of marriage does not attract her at all."

Julian's mouth turned down. "I suppose you met Miss Silverthorne at my aunt's Wednesday salons?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact, I did."

"Judging by what you have just told me, I am not at all certain she is the sort of female you should be associating with, my dear."

"You are probably quite right," Sophy said cheerfully. "Anne is a terrible influence. But I fear the damage is already done. We have become close friends, you see, and one does not abandon one's friends, does one?"

"Sophy—"

"I am quite certain you would never turn your back on your friends. It would not be honorable."

Julian gave her a wary look. "Now, Sophy—"

"Do not alarm yourself, Julian. Anne is not my only friend. Jane Morland is another recent acquaintance of mine and you would no doubt approve of her. She is very serious-minded. Very much the voice of reason and restraint."

"I am relieved to hear it," Julian said. "But, Sophy, I must advise you to be as careful in choosing your female friends as you are in selecting your male ones."

"Julian, if I were as cautious in my friendships as you would have me, I would lead a very solitary existence, indeed. Either that, or I would be bored to death by some very dull creatures."

"Somehow I cannot imagine such a situation."

"Neither can I." Sophy glanced around, searching for a distraction. "I must say, Fanny and Harry are very late. I do hope they are all right."

"Now it is you who is changing the subject."

"I learned the technique from you." Sophy was about to continue in that vein when she became aware that the striking blond courtesan in the green gown was looking straight at her across the expanse of space that separated the boxes.

For a moment Sophy simply gazed back curiously, intrigued by the other woman's forthright stare. She started to ask Julian once more what the woman's name was but a sudden loud commotion in the gallery made it clear the opera was about to begin. Sophy forgot about the woman in green and gave her attention to the stage.

The curtain behind Sophy parted during the middle of the first act and she glanced around, expecting to see Fanny and Harry bustling into the box but the visitor was Miles Thurgood. Julian casually waved him to a seat. Sophy smiled at him.

"I say, Catalani is in fine form tonight, isn't she? Miles leaned forward to murmur in Sophy's ear. "Heard she had a flaming row with her latest paramour just before she came on stage. Word has it she dumped a chamber pot over his head. Poor fellow is due to perform in the next act. One hopes he'll be able to get cleaned up in time."

Sophy giggled, ignoring Julian's disapproving glare. "How did you hear that?" she whispered to Miles.

"Catalani's escapades behind the scenes are legendary," Miles explained with a grin.

"There is no need to regale my wife with such tales," Julian said pointedly. "Find something else to talk about if you wish to stay in this box."

"Don't pay any attention to him," Sophy admonished. "Julian is excessively straitlaced in some matters."

"Is that true, Julian?" Miles exclaimed innocently. "Do you know, now that your Countess makes the observation, I fear she may be right. I had begun to think you a bit stuffy of late. Must be the affects of marriage."

"No doubt," Julian said coldly.

"Catalani is not the only one causing talk tonight," Miles went on cheerfully. "One hears that a few more members of the ton have received notes from the Grand Featherstone. You've got to hand it to the woman. She's got nerve to sit here tonight surrounded by her victims."

Sophy rounded on him at once. "Charlotte Featherstone is here tonight? Where?"

"That's enough, Thurgood," Julian cut in decisively.

But Miles was nodding toward the box that held the fashionably dressed blond who had been staring at Sophy only moments earlier. "That's her right over there."

"The lady in the green gown?" Sophy peered through the gloom of the darkened theater trying to pick out the infamous courtesan.

"Damn it, Thurgood, I said that's enough," Julian snapped.

"Sorry, Ravenwood. Don't mean to say anything out of line. But everyone knows who Featherstone is. Ain't exactly a secret."

Julian's eyes were grim. "Sophy, would you like some lemonade?"

"Yes, Julian, that would be lovely."

"Excellent. I'm certain Miles would be happy to fetch you a glass, wouldn't you Thurgood?"

Miles leaped to his feet and swept Sophy a graceful bow. "It would be an honor, Lady Ravenwood. I shall return shortly." He turned to slip through the curtains at the back of the box and then paused briefly. "I beg your pardon, Lady Ravenwood," he said with a wide smile, "but the plume in your hair appears to be about to fall out. May I be allowed to adjust it for you?"

"Oh, dear." Sophy reached up to push the offending plume back into the depths of her coiffure just as Miles leaned forward helpfully.

"Go get the lemonade, Thurgood," Julian ordered, reaching for the plume, himself. "I am perfectly capable of dealing with Sophy's attire." He quickly shoved the feather back into Sophy's curls as Miles made his escape from the box.

"Really, Julian, there was no need to send him away just because he pointed out Charlotte Featherstone." Sophy gave her husband a reproving glance. "As it happens I have been most curious about the woman."

"I cannot imagine why."

"Why, because I have been reading her Memoirs."

Sophy explained, leaning forward once more in an effort to get a better look at the lady in green.

"You've been reading what?" Julian's voice sounded half-strangled.

"We're studying the Featherstone Memoirs in Fanny's and Harry's Wednesday afternoon salons. Fascinating reading, I must say. Such a unique view of Society. We can hardly wait for the next installment.

"Damn it, Sophy, if I'd had any notion Fanny would be exposing you to that sort of rubbish, I would never have permitted you to visit her on Wednesdays. What the devil is the meaning of this nonsense? You're supposed to be studying literature and natural philosophy, not some harlot's gossipy scribblings."

"Calm down, Julian, I am a married woman of twenty-three, not a sixteen-year-old schoolgirl." She smiled at him. "I was right earlier. You really are most dreadfully straitlaced about some things."

His eyes narrowed as he glowered at her. "Straitlaced is a rather mild term for the way I feel about this particular subject, Sophy. You are forbidden to read any more installments of the Memoirs. Do you fully comprehend me?"

Some of Sophy's good humor began to slip. The last thing she wanted to do was ruin the evening with an argument but she felt she had to take a stand. Last night she had surrendered on one of the most important counts of the nuptial agreement. She would not give in on another.

"Julian, she said gently, "I must remind you that prior to our marriage we discussed the matter of my freedom to read what I choose."

"Do not throw that silly agreement in my face, Sophy. It has nothing to do with this business of the Featherstone Memoirs."

"It was not a silly agreement and it has everything to do with this matter. You are trying to dictate what I can and cannot read. We distinctly agreed you would not do that."

"I do not wish to argue with you about this," Julian said through clenched teeth.

"Excellent." Sophy gave him a relieved smile. "I do not wish to argue with you about it either, my lord. You see?

We can agree quite easily on some matters. It bodes well, don't you think?"

"Do not misunderstand me," Julian plowed on forcefully, "I will not debate this with you. I am telling you quite plainly that I do not want you reading any more installments of the Memoirs. As your husband, I expressly forbid it."

Sophy drew a deep breath knowing she must not allow him to run roughshod over her like this. "It seems to me I have already made a very large compromise regarding our wedding agreement, my lord. You cannot expect me to make another. It is not fair and I believe that, at heart, you are a fair-minded man."

"Not fair." Julian leaned forward and caught one of her hands. "Sophy, look at me. What happened last night does not come under the heading of compromise. You simply came to your senses and realized that particular portion of our wedding agreement was irrational and unnatural."

"Did I really? How very perceptive of me."

"This is not a matter for jest, Sophy. You were wrong to insist upon that foolish clause in the first place and ultimately you had the sense to acknowledge it. This business of reading the Memoirs is another matter in which you are wrong. You must allow me to guide you in this sort of thing."

She looked up at him. "Be reasonable, my lord. If I surrender on this count, too, what will you demand next? That I no longer control my inheritance?"

"The devil take your inheritance," he stormed tightly. "I do not want your money and you know it."

"So you say now. But a few weeks ago you were also saying you did not care what I chose to read. How do I know you will not also soon change your mind about my inheritance?"

"Sophy, this is outrageous. Why in the name of heaven do you want to read the Memoirs?"

"I find them quite fascinating, my lord. Charlotte Featherstone is a most interesting woman. Only think what she has gone through."

"She's gone through a lot of men, that's what she's gone through and I won't have you reading the particulars about each and every one of her paramours."

"I will take care not to mention the subject again, my lord, since it obviously offends you."

"You will take care not to read on this subject again," he corrected ominously. Then his expression softened. "Sophy, my dear, this is not worth a quarrel between us."

"I could not agree with you more, my lord."

"What I require of you is merely some degree of rational circumspection in your reading."

"Julian, as fascinating and instructive as the subjects of animal husbandry and farming are, they do grow a bit tedious now and again. I simply must have some variety in my reading."

"Surely you do not want to lower yourself to the kind of gossip you will encounter in the Memoirs?"

"I did warn you the day we agreed to marry that I had a lamentable taste for entertaining gossip."

"I am not going to allow you to indulge it."

"You seem to know a great deal about the sort of gossip that is in the Memoirs. Are you by any chance reading them, too? Perhaps we could find a basis for a discussion."

"No, I am not reading them and I have no intention of doing so. Furthermore—"

Fanny's voice heralded them from the doorway, cutting off Julian's next words. "Sophy, Julian, good evening. Did you think we would never get here?" Fanny swept through the curtains, a vision in bronze silk. Harriett Rattenbury was right behind her, resplendent in her signature purple gown and turban.

"Good evening, everyone. So sorry for the delay." Harriett smiled cheerfully at Sophy. "My dear, you look lovely tonight. That shade of pale blue is quite becoming on you. Why the scowl? Is something wrong?"

Sophy hastily summoned up a welcoming smile and tugged her hand from Julian's grasp. "Not at all, Harry. I was worried about the two you."

"Oh, nothing to fret about," Harriett assured her, sitting down with a sigh of relief. "All my fault, I'm afraid. My rheumatism was acting up earlier this afternoon and I discovered I had run out of my special tonic. Dear Fanny insisted on sending out for more and as a consequence we were late dressing for the theater. How is the performance? Is Catalani in good form?"

"I hear she dumped a chamber pot over her lover's head just prior to the first act," Sophy said promptly.

"Then she is probably giving a rousing performance." Fanny chuckled. "It is common knowledge that she is at her best when she is quarreling with one of her paramours. Gives her work spirit and zest."

Julian eyed Sophy's outwardly composed face. "The more interesting scene is the one taking place here in this box, Aunt Fanny, and you and Harry are the cause."

"Highly unlikely," Fanny murmured. "We never get involved in scenes, do we, Harry?"

"Gracious, no. Most unseemly."

"Enough," Julian snapped. "I have just discovered that you are studying the Featherstone Memoirs in your Wednesday afternoon salons. What the devil happened to Shakespeare and Aristotle?"

"They're dead," Harriett pointed out.

Fanny ignored Sophy's muffled giggle and waved a hand with languid grace. "Surely, Julian, as a reasonably well-educated man, yourself, you must know how wide ranging an intelligent person's interests are. And everyone in my little club is very intelligent. There must be no fetters placed on the never-ending quest for enlightenment."

"Fanny, I am warning you, I do not want Sophy exposed to that sort of nonsense."

"It's too late," Sophy interjected. "I have already been exposed."

He turned to her with a grim look. "Then we must attempt to limit the ill effects. You will not read any more of the installments. I forbid it." He rose to his feet. "Now, if you ladies will excuse me, I believe I will go and see what is keeping Miles. I shall return shortly."

"Run along, Julian," Fanny murmured encouragingly. "We will be fine."

"No doubt," he agreed coldly. "Do try to keep Sophy from falling out of the box in her attempt to get a closer look at Charlotte Featherstone, will you?"

He nodded once, gave Sophy a last stony-eyed glare and stalked from the box. Sophy sighed as the curtain fell into place behind him.

"He is very good with exit lines, is he not?" she noted.

"All men are good at exit lines," Harriett said as she removed her opera glass from her beaded reticule. "They use them so frequently, you know. It seems they are always walking out. Off to school, off to war, off to their clubs, or off to their mistresses."

Sophy considered that briefly. "I'd say it was not so much a case of walking out as it is of running away."

"An excellent observation," Fanny said cheerfully. "How very right you are, my dear. What we just witnessed was definitely a strategic retreat. Julian probably learned such tactics under Wellington. I see you are learning the business of being a wife very rapidly."

Sophy grimaced. "I do hope you will not pay any regard to Julian's efforts to dictate our reading selections on Wednesday afternoons."

"My dear girl, do not concern yourself with such trivia," Fanny said airily. "Of course we will not pay Julian any mind. Men are so limited in their notions of what women should do, are they not?"

"Julian is a good man, as men go, Sophy, but he does have his blind spots," Harriett said as she raised the small binoculars to her eyes and peered through them. "Of course, one can hardly blame him after what he went through with his first Countess. Then, too, I'm afraid his experiences in battle tended to reinforce a rather sober outlook on life in general. Julian has a strongly developed sense of duty, you know and… ah, ha. There she is."

"Who?" Sophy demanded, her mind distracted by thoughts of Elizabeth and the effects of war on a man.

"The Grand Featherstone. She is wearing green tonight, I see. And the diamond and ruby necklace Ashford gave her."

"Really? How marvelously outrageous of her to wear it after the things she wrote about him in the second installment of the Memoirs. Lady Ashford must be livid." Fanny promptly dug out her own opera glasses and focused quickly.

"May I borrow your opera glasses?" Sophy asked Harriett. "I did not think to purchase some."

"Certainly. We'll shop for glasses for you this week. One simply cannot come to the opera without them." Harriett smiled her serene smile. "So much to see here. One would not want to miss anything."

"Yes," Sophy agreed as she focused the small glasses on the stunning woman in green. "So much to see. You are quite right about the necklace. It is spectacular. One can understand why a wife might complain if she discovered her husband was giving his mistress such baubles."

"Especially when the wife is obliged to make do on jewelry of far less quality," Fanny said musingly, her eyes on the simple pendant that graced Sophy's throat. "I wonder why Julian has not yet given you the Ravenwood emeralds?"

"I have no need of the emeralds." Sophy, still watching Charlotte Featherstone's box, saw a familiar pale-haired man enter. She recognized Lord Waycott at once. Charlotte turned to greet him with a graceful gesture of her beringed hand. Waycott bowed over the glittering fingers with elegant aplomb.

"If you ask me," Harriett said conversationally to Fanny, "your nephew probably saw entirely too much of the Ravenwood emeralds on his first wife."

"Um, you may be right, Harry. Elizabeth caused him nothing but grief whenever she wore those emeralds. It could be that Julian does not wish to see those particular stones on any woman again. The sight would undoubtedly remind him quite painfully of Elizabeth."

Sophy wondered if that was the real reason Julian had not yet given her the Ravenwood family gems. It seemed to her there might be other, less-flattering, reasons.

It took a woman of poise, stature, and polish to wear fine jewels, especially dramatic stones such as emeralds. Julian might not think his new wife had enough presence to carry off the Ravenwood jewels. Or he might not think her pretty enough for them.

But last night, she reflected wistfully, for a short while in the intimacy of her bedchamber, Julian had made her feel very beautiful, indeed.

Sophy neither complained nor asked for explanations much later that evening when Julian escorted her home and then announced he was going off to spend an hour or two at one of his clubs. Julian wondered at her lack of protest as he lounged moodily in the carriage while his driver picked a way through the dark streets. Didn't Sophy care how he spent the remainder of the evening or was she just grateful he was not going to invade her bedchamber a second time?

Julian had not originally planned to go on to a club after the opera. He had fully intended to take Sophy home and then spend the rest of the night teaching her the pleasures of the marriage bed. He had passed a good portion of the day plotting exactly how he would go about the task. This time, he had vowed, he would make it right for her.

He had envisioned himself undressing her slowly, kissing every inch of her softness as he brought her to a state of perfect readiness. This time he would not lose his self-control at the last minute and plunge wildly into her. This time he would go slowly and make certain she learned that the pleasure could be shared equally between them.

Julian was well aware that he had lost his head at a critical juncture the previous evening. It was not his customary style. He had gone into Sophy's bedchamber certain that he was in control, convinced that he really was only going to make love to her for her own good.

But the real truth was that he had wanted her so much, had been wanting her for so long, that by the time he had finally lost himself in her tight, welcoming body, he'd had no reserves of self-control on which to draw. Apparently he had used up those reserves during the previous week when he'd struggled to keep his hands off her.

The memory of his driving desire as he had finally buried himself in her silken sheath was enough to harden his body all over again. Julian shook his head, dazed at the realization of how the whole situation had escalated into something far larger and more ungovernable than he had ever anticipated. He wondered again how he had allowed himself to become so obsessed with Sophy.

There was no point attempting to analyze it, he finally decided as the carriage halted in front of his club. The important thing was to make certain the obsession did not take full control of him. He must manage it and that meant managing Sophy. He must keep a firm hand on the reins for both their sakes. His second marriage was not going to go the way of his first. Not only that, but Sophy needed his protection. She was much too naive and trusting.

But as he walked into the warm sanctuary of his club it seemed to Julian he could almost hear distant echoes of Elizabeth's mocking laughter.

"Ravenwood. Miles Thurgood looked up from where he was sitting near the fire and grinned cheerfully. "Didn't expect you to show up here tonight. Have a seat and a glass of port."

"Thank you, " Julian lowered himself into a nearby chair. "Any man who has sat through an opera needs a glass of port."

"Just what I said, myself, a few minutes ago. Although I must say, tonight's spectacle was more entertaining than usual what with the Grand Featherstone putting in an appearance."

"Don't remind me."

Miles chuckled. "Watching you trying to clamp the lid on your wife's interest in the subject of Featherstone was the most amusing part of all, of course. Expect you failed miserably to distract her, eh? Women always get riveted on the one thing you wish they would ignore."

"Hardly surprising, what with you deliberately encouraging her," Julian muttered, pouring himself a glass of port.

"Be reasonable, Ravenwood. Everyone in town is talking about the Memoirs. You can't really expect Lady Ravenwood to ignore them."

"I can and do expect to guide my wife in her choice of literature," Julian said coldly.

"Come now, be honest," Miles urged with the familiarity of an old friend. "Your concern is not with her literary tastes, is it? You're just afraid that sooner or later she'll come across your name in those Memoirs."

"My involvement with Featherstone is no concern of my wife's."

"A fine sentiment and one I'm certain is echoed by every man hiding out here tonight," Miles assured him. Then his good natured expression sobered abruptly. "Speaking of those present this evening—"

Julian looked at him. "Yes?"

Miles cleared his throat and lowered his voice. "Thought you ought to know Waycott's in the gaming room."

Julian's hand tightened on his glass but his tone remained cool. "Is he? How interesting. He does not generally patronize this club."

"True. But he does have a membership, you know. Tonight, it appears, he has decided to make use of it." Miles leaned forward, "You should know he's offering to take wagers."

"Is he, indeed?"

Miles cleared his throat. "Wagers regarding you and the Ravenwood emeralds."

A cold fist clutched at Julian's insides. "What sort of wager?"

"He is betting that you will not give Sophy the Ravenwood emeralds before the year is out," Miles said. "You know what he's implying, Julian. He's as good as announcing to everyone that your new wife cannot take the place of Elizabeth in your life. If Lady Ravenwood hears about this, she will be crushed."

"Then we must endeavor to make certain she does not hear about it. I know I can depend upon you to keep silent, Thurgood."

"Yes, of course. This is hardly a quizzing matter like the business of Featherstone, but you must realize any number of people are likely to hear of it and you can't possibly keep them all quiet. Perhaps it would be simplest if you just made certain Lady Ravenwood wears the jewels soon in public. That way—" Miles broke off, alarmed, as Julian got to his feet. "What do you think you're doing?"

"I thought I would see what sort of play is going on at the tables tonight," Julian said as he walked toward the door to the gaming room.

"But you rarely play. Why should you want to go into the gaming room? Wait!" Miles shot to his feet and trotted after him. "Really, Julian, I think it would be much better if you did not go in there tonight."

Julian ignored him. He strolled into the crowded room and stood looking negligently around until he spotted his quarry. Waycott, who had just won at hazard, glanced around at that moment and his gaze alighted on Julian. He smiled slowly and waited.

Julian was aware that everyone else in the room was holding his breath. He knew Miles was hovering somewhere nearby and out of the corner of his eye he spotted 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."