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 Harriette 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.”
“You need not refine upon your point, Jane,” Anne said brusquely.
Jane ignored her. “Sophy, I am so sorry but I simply could not allow you to risk getting killed over such a matter. Will you ever forgive me for my interference this morning?”
“It is over and done, Jane. Pray forget about it. As it happens, Ravenwood would undoubtedly have interrupted the duel even without your assistance. He saw me leaving the house this morning.”
“He saw you? Good heavens. What must he have thought when he watched you get into the carriage?” Anne asked, sounding stricken.
Sophy shrugged. “He assumed I was running off with another man.”
“That explains the look in his eyes when he opened the door to me,” Jane whispered. “I knew then why he is so frequently called a devil.”
“Oh, dear God,” Anne said bleakly. “He must have assumed you were behaving like his first wife. Some say he killed her because of her infidelities.”
“Nonsense,” Sophy said. She had never completely believed that tale; never wanted to believe it, but just for a moment she did wonder to what lengths Julian might be driven if he were goaded too far. He had certainly been furious with her that morning. Anne was right, Sophy thought with a small chill. For a while there in the library, there had been a devil looking out of those green eyes.
“If you ask me, you had two close calls today,” Jane said. “You not only barely missed getting hurt in a duel, but you probably came within an inch of your life when Ravenwood saw you get into the carriage.”
“You may rest assured I have learned a lesson. From now on I intend to be exactly the sort of wife my husband expects. I will not interfere in his life and in return I will expect him not to interfere in mine.”
Anne bit her lip thoughtfully. “I am not so certain it will wo
rk that way, Sophy.”
“I will make certain it works that way,” Sophy vowed. “I do have one more favor to ask you, though, Anne. Can you see to the delivery of another letter to Charlotte Featherstone?”
“Sophy, please,” Jane said uneasily, “leave it alone. You’ve done enough in that direction.”
“Do not worry, Jane. This will be the end of it. Can you do it for me, Anne?”
Anne nodded. “I can do it. What are you going to say in the letter? Wait, let me guess. You’re going to send her the two hundred pounds, aren’t you?”
“That is exactly what I am going to do. Julian owes it to her.”
“This is beyond belief,” Jane muttered.
“You may stop fretting, Jane. As I said, it is all over. I have more important matters to concern me. What is more, they are matters I should have been concerned with all along. I do not know why I let myself become distracted by marriage.”
Jane’s eyes gleamed with momentary amusement behind her mask. “I am sure marriage is very distracting in the beginning, Sophy. Do not chide yourself.”
“Well, she’s learned it’s useless to try to alter the pattern of a man’s behavior,” Anne observed. “Having made the mistake of getting married in the first place, the best one can do is ignore one’s husband as much as possible and concentrate on more interesting matters.”
“You are an expert on marriage?” Jane asked.
“I have learned a lot watching Sophy. Now tell us what these more important matters are, Sophy.”
Sophy hesitated, wondering how much to tell her friends about the black ring she was wearing. Before she could make up her mind a tall figure dressed in a black, hooded cape and a black mask glided up to her and bowed deeply from the waist. It was impossible to see the color of his eyes in the lantern light.
“I would like to request the honor of this dance, Lady Gypsy.”
Sophy looked into shadowed eyes and felt suddenly cold. Instinctively she started to refuse and then she remembered the ring. She had to begin her search somewhere and there was no telling who might give her the clues she needed. She sketched a curtsy. “Thank you, kind sir. I would be pleased to dance with you.”
The man in the black cape and mask led her out onto the floor without a word. She realized he was wearing black gloves and she did not like the feel of being close to him when he took her into his arms. He danced with perfect grace and decorum but Sophy felt vaguely menaced.
“Do you tell fortunes, Lady Gypsy?” the man asked in a low, rough voice tinged with cold amusement. “Occasionally.”
“So do I. Occasionally.”
That startled her. “Do you, sir? What sort of fortune do you predict for me?”
His black gloved fingers moved over the black ring on her hand. “A most interesting fortune, my lady. Most interesting, indeed. But, then, that is only to be expected from a bold young woman who would dare to wear this ring in public.”
TWELVE
Sophy froze. She would have tripped over her own feet if her partner had not tightened his grip quite painfully for an instant. “You are familiar with this ring, sir?” she asked, striving to keep her voice light. “Yes.”
“How strange. I did not know it was a common thing.”
“It is most uncommon, madam. Only a few would recognize it.”
“I see.”
“May I ask how it came into your possession?” the hooded man asked quietly.
She had her story ready. “It is a keepsake given to me by a friend of mine before she died.”
“Your friend should have warned you that the ring is very dangerous. You would be well advised to remove it and never wear it again.” There was a slight pause before the stranger concluded softly, “Unless you are a very adventurous sort of female.”
Sophy’s heart was pounding now but she managed a seemingly careless smile beneath her half-mask. “I cannot imagine why you should be so alarmed at the sight of this ring. What is there about it that makes you think it is dangerous?”
“I am not free to tell you why it is dangerous, my lady. The wearer must discover that for herself. But I feel it my duty to warn you that it is not for the faint of heart.”
“I think you tease me, sir. But truthfully I cannot believe the ring is anything more than a rather unusual piece of jewelry. In any event, I am not fainthearted.”
“Then perhaps you will find a most unusual type of excitement with the ring.”
Sophy shivered but kept her smile in place. At that moment she was extremely grateful to be wearing a disguise. “I am quite certain, sir, that you are deliberately taunting me because of the costume I chose to wear this evening. Do you enjoy sending chills down the spine of the poor fortune-teller whose job it is to send chills down the spines of others?”
“Do I send chills down your spine, madam?”
“A few.”
“Are you enjoying them?”
“Not particularly.”
“Perhaps you will learn to find pleasure in them. A certain type of female does eventually, after a bit of practice.”
“Is that my fortune?” she asked, aware that her palms were growing as damp as they had that very morning when she had confronted Charlotte Featherstone.
“I do not believe I want to spoil the joy of anticipation for you by giving you a peek at your future. It will be far more interesting to let you discover the nature of your fortune in due course. Good evening, Lady Gypsy. I am certain we will meet again.” The man in the black cape released her abruptly, bowed low over her ringed hand and then vanished into the crowd.
Sophy watched anxiously as he disappeared, wondering if she might be able to follow him through the throng. Perhaps she could catch him without his mask outside. Many people were leaving the ballroom in order to cool off in Lady Musgrove’s lovely gardens.
Sophy picked up her skirts and started forward. She got all of ten feet before she felt a man’s hand clamp firmly around her arm. Startled, she whirled around to find herself looking up at another tall man dressed very much as her previous partner had been in a black cape and mask. The only difference was that the hood of this man’s cape was thrown back to reveal his midnight dark hair. He gave her a slight bow.
“Pardon me, but I seek the services of one such as yourself, Madam Gypsy. Will you be so gracious as to dance with me while you tell me my fortune? I have been somewhat unlucky at love lately and I would like to know if my luck is going to change.”
Sophy glanced down at the large hand on her arm and recognized it immediately. Julian had roughened his voice and pitched it even lower than usual but she would know him anywhere. The familiar sense of awareness she always experienced when he was in the vicinity had grown stronger during the time she had been living with him.
She felt a curious sensation in her stomach as she wondered if Julian recognized her. If he did, he was certain to be angry with her for what she had done when she had awakened from her nap to find the bracelet on the pillow beside her. Warily she looked up at him.
“Do you wish your luck to change, sir?”
“Yes,” Julian said as he swung her into the dance. “I believe I do want it to change.”
“What … what sort of ill luck have you been experiencing?” she asked cautiously.
“I seem to be having great difficulty in pleasing my new bride.”
“Is she very hard to please?”
“Yes, I fear so. A most demanding lady.” Julian’s voice seemed to roughen even further. “For example today she let me know she was annoyed with me because I had not thought to give her a token of my affection.”
Sophy bit her lip and looked past Julian’s shoulder. “How long have you been married, sir?”
“Several weeks.”
“And in all that time you have never given her such a token?”
“I confess I did not think of doing so. Very remiss of me. However, today when my lapse was pointed out to me I took immediate steps to remedy the situation. I
bought the lady a very charming bracelet and I left it on her pillow.”
Sophy winced. “Was it a very expensive bracelet?”
“Very. But not expensive enough apparently to satisfy my lady.” Julian’s hand tightened slightly on Sophy’s waist. “I found the bracelet on my own pillow this evening as I was dressing to go out. There was a note with it that said she was not amused by such a paltry trinket.”
Sophy stared up at him, desperately trying to decide whether Julian was angry or simply objectively interested in her reasons for refusing the bracelet. She still could not be certain he even recognized her. “It would seem to me, sir, that you misunderstood your lady’s complaint.”
“Did I?” Without missing a step he adjusted the brightly patterned scarf that was starting to slide off her shoulders. “You don’t think she likes jewelry?”
“I’m sure she appreciates jewelry as well as the next woman but she probably does not like the idea that you are trying to placate her with baubles.”
“Placate?” He tasted the word thoughtfully. “What do you mean by that?”
Sophy cleared her throat. “Did you by any chance quarrel with your lady recently?”
“Um. Yes. She did something very foolhardy. Something that could have cost her her life. I was angry. I let her know of my anger and she chose to sulk.”
“Do you not think it possible that she was hurt that you did not understand why she had done what she did?”
“She cannot expect me to condone the kind of dangerous action she took recently,” Julian said evenly. “Even if she did believe it a matter of honor. I will not allow her to risk her life so foolishly.”
“So you gave her a bracelet instead of the understanding she sought?”
Julian’s mouth was hard beneath the edge of his mask. “Do you think that was how she viewed it?”
“I think your lady felt you were trying to pacify her after an argument in the same way you would try to buy your way back into the good graces of a mistress.” Sophy held her breath, still frantically trying to decide whether or not Julian recognized her.