Sophy eyed him warily, wondering where all this was leading. She was anxious to be on her way. The carriage was waiting. “Did you want something, my lord?”
“A little of your time, perhaps?” he suggested gently.
Sophy’s fingers fumbled with the ribbons of her bonnet and the bow went askew. “I am sorry, my lord. I fear I have promised your aunt I would be there at three. She will be expecting me.”
Julian glanced over his shoulder at the clock in the library. “You have a few minutes before you must rush off. Why don’t you instruct your groom to walk the horse for a short while? I really would like to have your advice on a few matters.”
“Advice?” That caught her attention. Julian had not sought her advice on anything since they had left Eslington Park.
“On some business relating to Ravenwood.”
“Oh.” She did not know quite how to respond to that. “Will it take long, my lord?”
“No, my dear. It won’t take long.” He straightened and waved her gracefully through the library door. Then he glanced back at the footman. “Tell the groom that Lady Ravenwood will be out in a while.”
Sophy sat down opposite Julian’s desk and struggled to untie the knot she had made in her bonnet ribbons.
“Allow me, my dear.” Julian shut the library door and came across the room to deal with the tangle.
“Honestly, I do not know what it is about bonnet strings,” Sophy complained, flushing slightly because of Julian’s nearness. “They never seem to want to go together properly.”
“Don’t fret about such details. This is one of those chores a husband is skilled at performing.” Julian leaned over her, his big hands very deft on the offending knot. A moment later he eased the bonnet from her curls and handed it to her with a small bow.
“Thank you.” Sophy sat stiffly in the chair, the bonnet on her lap. “What sort of advice did you wish from me, my lord?”
Julian went around to the other side of the desk and casually seated himself. “I have just received some reports from my steward at Ravenwood. He says the housekeeper has taken ill and may not recover.”
“Poor Mrs. Boyle,” Sophy said at once, thinking of the plump tyrant who had ruled the Ravenwood household for years. “Does your steward mention whether she’s had Old Bess in to look at her?”
Julian glanced down at the letter in front of him. “Yes, Bess apparently went up to the house a few days ago and said the problem is with Mrs. Boyle’s heart. Even if she is fortunate enough to recover, she will not be able to take up her duties again. From here on out she must lead a quiet life.”
Sophy shook her head and frowned in concern. “I am so sorry to hear that. I imagine Old Bess has instructed Mrs. Boyle in the use of foxglove tea. It is very useful in such situations, you know.”
“I would not know about foxglove tea,” Julian said politely, “but I do know that Mrs. Boyle’s retirement leaves me—” Julian paused and then amended his words deliberately, “it leaves us with a problem. A new housekeeper needs to be appointed immediately.”
“Definitely. Ravenwood will soon be in chaos otherwise.”
Julian leaned back in his chair. “The business of hiring a housekeeper is quite important. It is also one of those things that is somewhat outside my area of expertise.”
Sophy could not resist a small smile. “Good heavens, my lord. I had no idea there was anything that lay outside your area of expertise.”
Julian grinned briefly. “It has been a while since you have bothered to tease me about my lamentable arrogance, Sophy. I find I almost miss your little barbs.”
Her flash of amusement faded abruptly. “We have not exactly been on the sort of terms that encourage teasing, my lord.”
“No, I suppose not. But I would change that.” She tilted her head. “Why?”
“Isn’t it obvious?” he asked quietly. “I find that, in addition to your teasing, I rather miss the ease of the relationship we had begun to develop at Eslington Park in the days before you felt obliged to dump tea all over our bed.”
Sophy felt herself turning pink. She looked down at the bonnet in her lap. “It was not such an easy relationship for me, my lord. It’s true we talked more then and we discussed matters of mutual interest but I could never forget that all you really wanted from me was an heir. It put a strain on me, Julian.”
“I understand that better now since I had a chat with a certain gypsy lady. She explained to me that my wife was something of a romantic by nature. I am guilty of not having taken that into account in my dealings with her and I would like to remedy the error of my ways.”
Sophy’s head came up quickly, her brows drawing together in annoyance. “So now you propose to indulge my so-called tendency toward romanticism? Pray do not bother, Julian. Romantic gestures are meaningless if there is no genuine feeling behind them.”
“At least give me some credit for trying to please you, my dear.” He smiled faintly. “You do like the Culpeper herbal, don’t you?”
Guilt assailed her. “You know I am most extremely pleased with it, my lord.”
“And the bracelet?” he coaxed.
“It is very pretty, my lord.”
He winced. “Very pretty. I see. Well, then, I shall look forward to seeing you wear it sometime in the near future.”
Sophy brightened at once, glad to be able to offer a positive response. “I expect I shall wear it this evening, my lord. I am going to a party at Lady St. John’s.”
“It was too much, I suppose, to hope you did not have plans for this evening?”
“Oh, I have plans for every evening this week and next. There is always so much going on here in town, isn’t there?”
“Yes,” Julian said grimly, “There is. You are not obliged to attend every function for which you receive an invitation, however. I should think by now you’d be happy to spend a quiet evening or two at home.”
“Why on earth would I want to spend an evening here alone, my lord?” Sophy murmured tightly.
Julian folded his hands in front of him on his desk. “I was thinking of spending the evening here, myself.”
Sophy forced another bright smile. He was trying to be kind, she told herself. She did not want mere kindness from him. “I see. Another romantic gesture designed to indulge my whims? That is very generous of you, but you need not bother, my lord. I am quite able to entertain myself. As I told you, now that I have been in the city a while I have a much better understanding of how husbands and wives of the ton are supposed to conduct their lives. And now I really must be going. Your aunt will wonder where I am.”
She stood up quickly, forgetting about the bonnet on her lap. It slipped to the floor.
“Sophy, you misunderstand my intentions,” Julian said as he got to his feet and strolled around the desk to pick up the bonnet. “I merely thought we might both enjoy a calm evening at home.” He adjusted the bonnet on her head and tied the ribbons neatly under her chin.
She looked up at him, wishing she knew exactly what he was thinking. “Thank you for the gesture, my lord. But I would not dream of interfering in your social life. I am certain you will be quite bored if you stayed home. Good day, my lord.”
“Sophy.”
The command caught her just as she put her hand on the doorknob. “Yes, my lord?”
“What about the matter of hiring a new housekeeper?”
“Tell your steward to interview Molly Ashkettle. She’s been on your staff for years at Ravenwood and will make a perfect replacement for poor Mrs. Boyle.” Sophy rushed out the door.
Fifteen minutes later she was ushered into Lady Fanny’s library. Harriette, Jane, and Anne were already there, deep into the stack of books that had been placed on the table.
“Sorry to be delayed,” Sophy apologized quickly as the others looked up from their work. “My husband wanted to discuss the matter of a new housekeeper.”
“How odd,” Fanny said from atop a small ladder where she was rummaging around
the top shelf. “Ravenwood never concerns himself with the hiring of servants. He always leaves that to his stewards or the butler. But never mind, dear, we are making great progress with your little project.”
“It’s true,” Anne said closing one book and opening another. “Harriette discovered a reference to the animal head on the ring a short while ago. It is a mythical creature, which appears in a very old book of natural philosophy.”
“Not a very pleasant reference, I’m afraid,” Harriette said, pausing to peer over the top of her spectacles. “It was associated with some sort of nasty cult in ancient times.”
“I am presently going through some old books on mathematics to see if I can find out anything about the triangle,” Jane said. “I have a feeling we are very close.”
“So do I,” Lady Fanny said as she descended from the ladder. “Although what we will have if we do find the answers is beginning to worry me a bit.”
“Why do you say that?” Sophy asked, taking a seat at the table and picking up a massive tome.
Harriette looked. “Fanny was struck with a rather vague recollection last night just before bedtime.”
“What sort of recollection?” Sophy demanded.
“Something to do with a secret society of rather wild young rakehells,” Fanny said slowly. “I heard about it a few years ago. I never learned the particulars, but it seems to me something was said about the members using rings to identify themselves to each other. Supposedly the whole thing started at Cambridge but some of the members kept the club going after they left the classroom. At least for a time.”
Sophy looked at Anne and Jane and shook her head very slightly. They had agreed not to alarm Fanny and Harriette with the real reason they wanted to learn the secret of the black ring. As far as the older women knew, Sophy was merely curious about a family heirloom that had come into her possession.
“You say this ring was left to you by your sister?” Harriette asked, turning pages slowly.
“That’s right.”
“Do you know where she got it?”
Sophy hesitated, trying to think of a reasonable explanation for Amelia’s possession of the ring. As usual, her mind went blank when she tried to come up with a lie.
Anne rushed glibly to the rescue. “You said she had gotten it from a great aunt who passed away many years ago, didn’t you, Sophy?”
“Yes,” Jane put in before Sophy was obliged to respond, “I think that was what you said, Sophy.”
“Yes. That’s correct. A very odd sort of aunt. I do not believe I ever met her, myself,” Sophy said quickly.
“Hm. Very odd, is right,” Fanny mused as she plunked down two more heavy volumes and went back to the shelf for another batch. “I wonder how she came into possession of the ring.”
“We’ll probably never know,” Anne said firmly, giving Sophy a quelling glance as Sophy began to look increasingly guilty.
Harriette turned another page in the volume she was perusing. “Have you shown the ring to Ravenwood, Sophy? Being a man, he might know more about this sort of thing than we do.”
“He has seen the ring,” Sophy said, happy to be able to speak the truth at last. “He did not recognize it.”
“Well, then, we must persevere on our own.” Fanny selected another volume off the shelf. “I do so love a puzzle, don’t you, Harry?”
Harriette smiled beatifically. “Dear me, yes. Never happier than when I’m working on a puzzle.”
Four days later, Sophy, poring over an ancient treatise on mathematics with Jane, discovered the origin of the peculiar triangle on the face of the ring.
“This is it,” she said excitedly as the others converged around the old volume. “Look at it. The triangle is exactly like that one on the ring, including the strange loops at each corner.”
“She is right,” Anne said. “What does it say about the triangle?”
Sophy frowned over the Latin. “Something to do with its being useful in certain dark ceremonies for controlling the female demons who have—” She halted abruptly as she realized what she was translating. “Oh, my goodness.”
“What is the matter?” Fanny leaned over her shoulder. “Ah, I see. ‘A shape most useful for controlling succubi while enjoying them in a carnal manner.’ How fascinating. Leave it to men to worry about a species of female demons who molest poor helpless males in their sleep.”
Harriette smiled blandly. “Fascinating, indeed. Demon prostitutes who can be controlled at the same time that one enjoys their favors. You are quite right, Fanny. Definitely a fantasy creation of the male brain.”
“Here is more evidence of masculine fancy,” Anne announced, pointing to another picture of the mythological creature she had researched. “The beast in the triangle is said to have uncommon powers. It can, it seems, fornicate for hours without any loss of vigor.”
Fanny groaned. “I think we can now say with some certainty that Sophy’s heirloom ring is, indeed, a man’s ring. It seems to have been expressly designed to make a male think quite highly of his own prowess in the bedchamber. Perhaps it was meant to give him good luck in that area of his life. In any event, it is definitely not the sort of jewelry Ravenwood will want his wife wearing in public.”
Harriette chuckled. “If I were you, Sophy, I would not tell your husband the meaning of the designs on that ring. Put the thing away and ask Ravenwood for the family emeralds, instead.”
“I am certain your advice is excellent,” Sophy said quietly, thinking she would be damned before she would ask her husband for the Ravenwood emeralds. “And I do appreciate your assistance in helping me track down the details of the ring.”
“Not at all,” Harriette said, beaming. “It was quite a fascinating project, wasn’t it, Fanny?”
“Most instructive.”
“Well, we had best be on our way,” Anne said, as the women began reshelving the books. “I promised Grandmother I would help her entertain some friends at cards this evening.”
“And I am supposed to put in an appearance at Lady St. John’s,” Sophy said, dusting off her hands.
Jane eyed her friends without a word but as soon as they were all three seated in Sophy’s carriage and safely out of earshot of Lady Fanny and her companion, she spoke up. “Well? Do not keep me in suspense. This is not the end of it. I know that. What will you do next, Sophy?”
Sophy stared out the window of the carriage, lost in thought for a moment. “It seems to me that we now know two things for certain about the ring. The first is that it probably belonged to a man who was part of a secret society he probably joined at Cambridge. And the second is that the society was involved in disreputable sexual practices.”
“I think you are right,” Anne agreed. “Your poor sister was the victim of some man who used women very badly, indeed.”
“We already knew that,” Jane said. “What do we do now?”
Sophy pulled her gaze away from the street scene and looked at her friends. “It seems to me there is only one person who might know the men who wear such rings.”
Jane’s eyes widened. “You cannot mean—”
“Of course,” Anne said quickly. “Why didn’t I think of it? We must contact Charlotte Featherstone at once and see what she can tell us of the ring or the man who might have worn it. Sophy, write the note this afternoon. I will deliver it in disguise at once.”
“She may not choose to respond,” Jane said hopefully.
“Perhaps, but it is the only recourse I have left, other than to wear the ring in public again and see who reacts to it.”
“Too dangerous,” Anne said at once. “Any man who recognizes the ring and sees you wearing it might think you were involved in the cult, yourself.”
Sophy shuddered, remembering the man in the black hooded cape and mask. A most unusual type of excitement. No, she must be very careful not to attract further attention with the ring.
Charlotte Featherstone’s answer came within hours. Anne brought it to Sophy at once. Soph
y tore open the envelope with a sense of mingled dread and anticipation.
From one Honorable Woman to Another: You flatter me by requesting what you are pleased to refer to as professional information. You say in your note that you are tracing the particulars of a family heirloom and your researches have led you to believe I may be of some assistance. I am only too happy to give you what little information I have but please allow me to tell you I do not think highly of the family member who left this ring behind. Whoever he was, he must have had a nasty streak in him.
Over the years I can recall five men who wore in my presence a ring such as you describe in your note. Two are now dead and, to be frank, the world is better off without them. The remaining three are Lords Utteridge, Varley, and Ormiston. I do not know what you plan to do next, but I advise caution. I can assure you that none of the three is good company for any woman, regardless of her station in Society. I hesitate to suggest it, but perhaps you should discuss the matter, whatever it may be, with your husband before proceeding further on your own.
The letter was signed with Featherstone’s beautifully scrawled C. F.
Sophy’s pulse beat faster. At last she had names, she told herself. One of these three might very well be the man who was responsible for Amelia’s death. “Somehow I must contrive to encounter these three men,” she said evenly to Anne.
“Utteridge, Varley, and Ormiston,” Anne repeated thoughtfully. “I have heard of them. They all move freely in Society, although their reputations are not the best. Using your own connections and those of my grandmother, it should not be difficult to get invitations to the parties and routs where we might expect to find these three lords.”
Sophy nodded, refolding Featherstone’s note. “I can see my appointment book is going to become more crowded than ever.”
FOURTEEN
Waycott was making a nuisance of himself and not for the first time. Sophy was growing increasingly annoyed with him. She frowned slightly over Lord Utteridge’s shoulder as he led her out onto the dance floor and saw with relief that Waycott was apparently heading out into the gardens.