by Amanda Quick
Her eyes fell away from his. “You need not worry about avenging my lost honor, my lord. I assure you I have led an extremely quiet and unexciting existence. A somewhat boring existence, to be precise.”
“I rather thought so.” He released her hand and relaxed back against the cushion. “Now tell me why you equate seduction with force?”
“This is hardly a proper conversation for us to be conducting,” she said in muffled tones.
“I have the impression you and I will have many such improper conversations. There are times, my dear, when you are a most improper young woman.” He reached up and plucked the broken feather shaft from her bonnet.
She glanced at the shaft with an expression of resignation. “You should have considered my improper tendencies before you insisted on offering for me.”
Julian turned the feather shaft between thumb and forefinger. “I did. I decided they were all quite manageable. Stop trying to distract me, Sophy. Tell me why you fear seduction as much as force.”
“It is a private matter, my lord. I do not speak of it.”
“You will speak of it to me. I am afraid I must insist, Sophy. I am your husband.”
“Do stop using that fact as an excuse for indulging your curiosity,” she snapped.
He slanted her a considering glance and considered the defiant tilt of her chin. “You insult me, madam.”
She shifted uneasily, attempting to straighten her skirts. “You are easily insulted, my lord.”
“Ah, yes, my excessive arrogance. I fear we must both learn to live with it, Sophy. Just as we must learn to live with my excessive curiosity.” Julian studied the broken feather shaft and waited.
Silence descended on the swaying coach. The sound of creaking wheels and harness leather and the steady beat of the horses’ hooves suddenly became very loud.
“It was not a matter that affected me, personally,” Sophy finally said in a very small voice.
“Yes?” Again Julian waited.
“It was my sister who was the victim of the seduction.” Sophy stared very hard at the passing scenery. “But she had no one to avenge her.”
“I understood that your sister died three years ago.”
“She did.”
Something about Sophy’s clipped voice alerted Julian. “Are you implying that her death was the result of a seduction?”
“She found herself with child, my lord. The man who was responsible cast her aside. She could not bear the shame or the betrayal. She took a large dose of laudanum.” Her fingers clenched together in her lap.
Julian sighed. “I am sorry, Sophy.”
“There was no need for her to take such a course of action,” Sophy whispered tightly. “Bess could have helped her.”
“Old Bess? How?” Julian frowned.
“There are ways that such situations may be remedied,” Sophy said. “Old Bess knows them. If only my sister had confided in me, I could have taken her to Bess. No one need ever have known.”
Julian dropped the feather shaft and leaned over to capture his wife’s wrist once more. This time he deliberately exerted pressure on the small bones. “What do you know of such matters?” he demanded very softly. Elizabeth had known such things.
Sophy blinked quickly, apparently confused by his sudden, controlled rage. “Old Bess knows much about medicinal herbs. She has taught me many things.”
“She has taught you ways to rid yourself of an unwanted babe?” he demanded softly.
Sophy seemed to realize at last that she had said far too much. “She … she has mentioned certain herbs that a woman can use if she believes she has conceived,” she admitted hesitantly. “But the herbs can be very dangerous to the mother and must be used with great skill and caution.” Sophy looked down at her hands for a moment. “I am not skilled in that particular art.”
“Bloody hell. You had best not be skilled in such things, Sophy. And I swear, if that old witch, Bess, is dealing in abortion, I will have her removed from my land immediately.”
“Really, my lord? Are your friends in London so very pure? Have none of your amours never been obliged to resort to certain remedies because of you?”
“No, they have not,” Julian rasped, thoroughly goaded now. “For your information, madam, there are techniques that may be used to prevent the problem from occurring in the first place, just as there are ways to prevent contracting certain diseases associated with … never mind.”
“Techniques, my lord? What techniques?” Sophy’s eyes lit up with obvious fascination.
“Good God, I don’t believe we are discussing such matters.”
“You opened the discussion, my lord. I collect you do not intend to tell me about these techniques for preventing the, er, problem.”
“No, I most certainly do not.”
“Ah, I see. This is yet another privileged bit of information available only to men?”
“You have no need of such information, Sophy,” he said grimly. “You are not in the one business that would require that you learn such things.”
“But there are women who do know such things?” she pressed.
“That is quite enough, Sophy.”
“And you know such women? Would you introduce me to one of them? I should dearly love to chat with her. Perhaps she would know other such amazing things. My intellectual interests are quite far-ranging, you know. One can get only so much out of books.”
He thought for an instant she was teasing him again and Julian came close to losing his temper completely. But at the last moment he realized Sophy’s fascination was oddly innocent and totally genuine. He groaned and leaned back into the corner of the seat. “We will not discuss this further.”
“You sound distressingly like my grandmother. Really, it is very disappointing, Julian. I had hoped that when I married I would find myself living with someone who would be a more amusing conversationalist.”
“I shall endeavor to amuse you in other ways,” he muttered, closing his eyes and resting his head against the cushion.
“If you are talking about seduction again, Julian, I must tell you, I do not find the topic amusing.”
“Because of what happened to your sister? I can see where such a situation would have left its mark on you, Sophy. But you must learn that there is a vast difference between that which goes on between husband and wife and the sort of unpleasant seduction your sister endured.”
“Really, my lord? How does a man learn to make such fine distinctions? At school? Did you learn them during your first marriage or from your experience of keeping mistresses?”
At that juncture, Julian’s temper frayed to a gossamer thread. He did not move or open his eyes. He did not dare. “I have explained to you that my first marriage is not a topic for discussion. Nor is the other subject you just raised. If you are wise, you will keep that in mind, Sophy.”
Something in his too-quiet words apparently made an impression on her. She said nothing more.
Julian took up the reins of his temper once again and when he knew he had himself in check he opened his eyes and regarded his new bride. “Sooner or later you must accustom yourself to me, Sophy.”
“You promised me three months, my lord.”
“Damn it, woman, I will not force myself upon you for the next three months. But do not expect me to make no attempt whatsoever to change your mind about lovemaking in the meantime. That is asking entirely too much and is completely outside the terms of our ridiculous agreement.”
Her head snapped around. “Is this what you meant when you warned me that a man’s sense of honor is unreliable when it comes to his dealings with women? Am 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?”
&nb
sp; 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.”