by Amanda Quick
But no matter how hard he worked at reminding himself of her deviousness and the importance of nipping such behavior in the bud, he found himself remembering other things about Sophy. He missed the morning rides, the intelligent conversations about farm management, and the games of chess in the evenings.
He also missed the enticing, womanly scent of her, the way her chin tilted when she was preparing to challenge him, and the subtle, gentle innocence that glowed softly in her turquoise eyes. He also found himself recalling her happy, mischievous laughter and her concern for the health of the servants and tenants.
At various times during the past week he had even caught himself wondering just what part of Sophy’s attire was askew at that particular moment. He would close his eyes briefly and envision her riding hat dangling down over her ear or imagine a torn hem on her skirt. Her maid would have her work cut out for her.
Sophy was very unlike his first wife.
Elizabeth had always been flawlessly garbed—every curl in place, every low-cut bodice cleverly arranged to display her charms to best advantage. Even in the bedchamber the first Countess of Ravenwood had maintained an air of elegant perfection. She had been a beautiful goddess of lust in her cunningly styled nightclothes, a creature designed by nature to incite passion in men and lure them to their doom. Julian felt slightly sick whenever he remembered how deeply ensnared he had been in the witch’s silken web.
Determinedly he pushed aside the old memories. He had selected Sophy for his wife because of the vast difference between her and Elizabeth and he fully intended to ensure that his new bride stayed different. Whatever the cost, he would not allow his Sophy to follow the same blazing, destructive path Elizabeth had chosen.
But while he was sure of his goal, he was not quite so certain of the measures he should take to achieve that goal. Perhaps leaving Sophy behind in the country had been a mistake. It not only left her without adequate supervision, it also left him at loose ends here in town.
The carriage came to a halt in front of the imposing townhouse Julian maintained. He stared morosely at the front door and thought of the lonely bed awaiting him. If he had any sense, he would order the carriage turned around and headed toward Trevor Square. Marianne Harwood would no doubt be more than willing to receive him, even at this late hour.
But visions of the breezy, voluptuous charms of La Belle Harwood failed to entice him from his self-imposed celibacy. Within forty-eight hours after his return to London, Julian had realized that the only woman he ached to bed was his wife.
His obsession with her was undoubtedly the direct result of denying himself what was rightfully his, he decided as he alighted from the carriage and went up the steps. He was, however, very certain of one thing: the next time he took Sophy to bed they would both remember the occasion with great clarity.
“Good evening, Guppy,” Julian said as the butler opened the door. “You’re up late. Thought I told you not to wait up for me.”
“Good evening, my lord.” Guppy cleared his throat importantly as he stood aside for his master. “Had a bit of a stir this evening. Kept the entire staff up late.”
Julian, who was halfway to the library, halted and turned around, with a questioning frown. Guppy was fifty-five years old, exceedingly well trained, and not at all given to dramatics.
“A stir?”
Guppy’s expression was suitably bland but his eyes were alight with subdued excitement. “The Countess of Ravenwood has arrived and taken up residence, my lord. Begging your pardon, but the staff would have been able to provide a much more comfortable welcome for Lady Ravenwood if we had been notified of her impending arrival. As it was, I fear we were taken somewhat by surprise. Not that we haven’t coped, of course.”
Julian froze. For an instant he could not think. Sophy is here. It was as if all his brooding thoughts on the way home tonight had succeeded in conjuring his new wife out of thin air. “Of course you coped, Guppy,” he said mechanically. “I would expect nothing less of you and the rest of the staff. Where is Lady Ravenwood at the moment?”
“She retired a short while ago, my lord. Madam is, if I may be so bold, most gracious to staff. Mrs. Peabody showed her to the room that adjoins yours, naturally.”
“Naturally.” Julian forgot his intention of dosing himself with a last glass of port. The thought of Sophy upstairs in bed shook him. He strode toward the staircase. “Good night, Guppy.”
“Good night, my lord.” Guppy permitted himself the smallest of smiles as he turned to lock the front door.
Sophy is here. A rush of excitement filled Julian’s veins. He quelled it in the next instant by reminding himself that in coming to London his new wife had openly defied him. His meek little country wife was becoming increasingly rebellious.
He stalked down the hall, torn between rage and an invidious pleasure at the thought of seeing Sophy again. The volatile combination of emotions was enough to make him light-headed. He opened the door of his bedchamber with an impatient twist of the knob and found his valet sprawled, sound asleep, in one of the red velvet armchairs.
“Hello, Knapton. Catching up on your sleep?”
“My lord.” Knapton struggled awake, blinking quickly as he took in the sight of his grim-faced master standing in the doorway. “I’m sorry, my lord. Just sat down for a few minutes to wait for you. Don’t know what happened. Must have dozed off.”
“Never mind.” Julian waved a hand in the general direction of the door. “I can get myself to bed without your assistance tonight.”
“Yes, my lord. If you’re quite certain you won’t be needing any help, my lord.” Knapton hurried toward the door.
“Knapton.”
“Yes, my lord?” The valet paused in the open doorway and glanced back warily.
“I understand Lady Ravenwood arrived this evening.”
Knapton’s pinched face softened into an expression of pleasure. “Not more than a few hours ago, my lord. Set the whole house in an uproar for a time but everything’s in order now. Lady Ravenwood has a way of managing staff, my lord.”
“Lady Ravenwood has a way of managing everyone,” Julian muttered under his breath as Knapton let himself out into the hall. He waited until the outer door had closed firmly behind the valet and then he stripped off his boots and evening clothes and reached for his dressing gown.
He stood for a moment after tying the silk sash, trying to think of how best to handle his defiant bride. Outrage still warred with desire in his blood. He had an overpowering urge to vent his temper on Sophy and an equally powerful need to make love to her. Maybe he should do both, he told himself.
One thing was for certain. He could not simply ignore her arrival tonight and then greet her at breakfast tomorrow morning as if her presence here was a perfectly routine matter.
Nor would he allow himself to stand here shilly-shallying another minute like a green officer facing his first battle. This was his home and he would be master in it.
Julian took a deep breath, swore softly, and strode over to the door that connected his dressing room with Sophy’s bedchamber. He snatched up a candle and raised his hand to knock. But at the last instant he changed his mind. This was not a time for courtesy.
He reached for the knob, expecting to find the door locked from the other side. To his surprise, he found no resistance. The door to Sophy’s darkened bedchamber opened easily.
For a moment he could not find her amid the shadows of the elegant room. Then he spotted the small, curved outline of her body in the center of the massive bed. His lower body tightened painfully. This is my wife and she is here at last in the bedchamber where she belongs.
Sophy stirred restlessly, hovering on the brink of an elusive dream. She came awake slowly, reorienting herself to the strange room. Then she opened her eyes and stared at the flickering flame of a candle moving silently toward her through the darkness. Panic jerked her into full alertness until, with a sigh of relief, she recognized the dark figure holding the
candle. She sat straight up in bed, clutching the sheet to her throat.
“Julian. You gave me a start, my lord. You move like a ghost.”
“Good evening, madam.” The greeting was cold and emotionless. It was uttered in that very soft, very dangerous voice that always boded ill. “I trust you will forgive me for not being at home tonight when you arrived. I wasn’t expecting you, you see.”
“Pray do not regard it, my lord. I am well aware that my arrival is something of a surprise to you.” Sophy tried her best to ignore the shiver of fear that coursed through her. She had known she must endure this confrontation from the moment she had made the decision to leave Eslington Park. She had spent hours in the swaying coach imagining just what she would say when she faced Julian’s wrath.
“A surprise? That’s putting it rather mildly.”
“There’s no need to be sarcastic, my lord. I know that you are probably somewhat angry with me.”
“How perceptive of you.”
Sophy swallowed bravely. This was going to be even more difficult than she had imagined. His attitude toward her had not softened much during the past week. “Perhaps it would be better if we discussed this in the morning.”
“We will discuss it now. There will not be time to do so in the morning because you will be busy packing to return to Eslington Park.”
“No. You must understand, Julian. I cannot allow you to send me away.” She gripped the sheet more tightly. She had promised herself she would not plead with him. She would be calm and reasonable. He was, after all, a reasonable man. Most of the time. “I am trying to put things right between us. I have made a terrible mistake in dealing with you. I was wrong. I know that now. I have come to London because I am determined to be a proper wife to you.”
“A proper wife? Sophy, I know this will amaze and astound you, but the fact is, a proper wife obeys her husband. She does not attempt to deceive him into thinking he has behaved like a monster. She does not deny him his rights in the bedchamber. She does not show up on his doorstep in town when she has been specifically ordered to stay in the country.”
“Yes, well, I am perfectly aware of the fact that I have not been a very exemplary model of the sort of wife you require. But in all fairness Julian, I feel your requirements were rather stringent.”
“Stringent? Madam, I required nothing more of you than a certain measure of—”
“Julian, please, I do not wish to argue with you. I am trying to make amends. We got off to a bad start in this marriage, and I admit that it is mostly my fault. It seems to me the least you can do is give me an opportunity to show you that I am willing to try to be a better wife.”
There was a long silence from Julian. He stood quite still, arrogantly examining her anxious face in the candlelight. His own expression was thrown into demonic relief by the flame he held in his hand. It seemed to Sophy he had never looked more like the devil than he did at that moment.
“Let me be perfectly certain I understand you, Sophy. You say you wish to put this marriage of ours on a normal footing?”
“Yes, Julian.”
“Am I to assume that you are now prepared to grant me my rights in your bed?”
She nodded quickly, her loosened hair tumbling around her shoulders. “Yes,” she said again. “You see, Julian, through some deductive logic I have come to the conclusion that you were right. We may deal much more favorably together if things are normal between us.”
“In other words you are trying to bribe me into allowing you to stay here in London,” he summarized in a silky tone.
“No, no, you misunderstand.” Alarmed by his interpretation of her actions, Sophy thrust back the covers and quickly got to her feet beside the bed. Belatedly she realized how thin the fabric of her nightgown was. She snatched up her dressing gown and held it in front of her.
Julian plucked the robe out of her hand and tossed it aside. “You won’t be needing that, will you, my dear? You’re a woman bent on seduction now, remember? You must learn the fine art of your new career.”
Sophy stared helplessly at the dressing gown on the floor. She felt exposed and terribly vulnerable standing there in her thin lawn nightdress. Tears of frustration burned in her eyes. For an instant she was afraid she might cry. “Please, Julian,” she said quietly. “Give me a chance. I will do my best to make a success of our marriage.”
He raised the candle higher in order to study her face. He was silent for an excruciating length of time before he spoke again. “Do you know, my dear,” he said at last, “I believe you will make me a good wife. After I have finished teaching you that I am not a puppet you can set to dancing on the end of your string.”
“I never intended to treat you that way, my lord.” Sophy bit her lip, stricken by the depths of his outrage. “I sincerely regret what happened at Eslington Park. You must know I have no experience in dealing with a husband. I was only trying to protect myself.”
He bit off a sharp exclamation. “Be quiet, Sophy. Every time you open your mouth you manage to sound less and less like a proper wife.”
Sophy ignored the advice. She was convinced her mouth was the only useful weapon in her small arsenal at that moment. Hesitantly she touched the sleeve of his silk dressing gown. “Let me stay here in town, Julian. Let me show you I am sincere about putting our marriage right. I swear to you I will work diligently at the task.”
“Will you?” He regarded her with cold, glittering eyes.
Sophy felt something inside her begin to shrivel and die. She had been so certain she could convince him to give her a second chance. During the short honeymoon at Eslington Park she thought she had gotten to know this man rather well. He was not deliberately cruel or unfair in his dealings with others. She had counted on him maintaining that same code of behavior when dealing with a wife.
“Perhaps I was wrong,” she said. “I had hoped you would be willing to give me the same opportunity to prove myself that you would give one of your tenants who was in arrears in regard to the rent.”
For an instant he looked totally nonplussed. “You’re equating yourself with one of my tenants?”
“I thought the analogy rather apt.”
“The analogy is rather idiotic.”
“Then perhaps there is no hope of putting things right between us.”
“You are wrong, Sophy. I told you that I believe you will eventually make me a proper wife and I meant what I said. I intend to see to it, in fact. The only real question is how that may best be achieved. You have a great deal to learn.”
So do you, Sophy thought. And who better to teach you than your wife? But she must remember that she had taken Julian by surprise tonight and men did not handle surprises well. Her husband needed time to accept that she was under his roof and intended to stay. “I promise you that I will not give you any trouble if you allow me to remain here in London, my lord.”
“No trouble, hm?” For a brief second the candlelight revealed what might have been a gleam of amusement in Julian’s cold gaze. “I cannot tell you how much that reassures me, Sophy. Get back into bed and go to sleep. I will give you my decision in the morning.”
A vast sense of relief swamped her. She had won the first round. He was no longer dismissing her out of hand. Sophy smiled tremulously. “Thank you, Julian.”
“Do not thank me yet, madam. We have a great deal to sort out between the two of us.”
“I realize that. But we are two intelligent people who happen to be stuck with one another. We must use some common sense to learn to live tolerantly together, don’t you agree?”
“Is that how you see our situation, Sophy? You consider us stuck with each other?”
“I know you would prefer that I not romanticize the matter, my lord. I am endeavoring to take a more realistic view of our marriage.”
“Make the best of things, in other words?”
She brightened. “Precisely, my lord. Rather like a pair of draft horses that are obliged to work in harness toge
ther. We must share the same barn, drink from the same trough, eat from the same hay bale.”
“Sophy,” Julian interrupted, “Please do not draw any more farming analogies. I find they cloud my thinking.”
“I would not want to do that, my lord.”
“How charitable of you. I will see you in the library at eleven o’clock tomorrow morning.” Julian turned and strode out of the room, taking the light with him.
Sophy was left standing alone in the darkness. But her spirits soared as she climbed back into the big bed. The first hurdle had been cleared. She sensed Julian was not entirely unwilling to have her here. If she could refrain from provoking him in the morning, she would be allowed to stay.
She had been right about his nature, Sophy told herself happily. Julian was a hard, cold man in many ways but he was an honorable one. He would deal fairly with her.
Sophy changed her mind three times about what to wear for the interview with Julian the next morning. One would have thought she was dressing for a ball instead of a discussion with her husband, she chided herself. Or perhaps a military campaign would be a more accurate analogy.
She finally chose a light yellow gown trimmed in white and asked her maid to put her hair up in a cascade of fashionable ringlets.
By the time she was satisfied with the effect she had less than five minutes to descend the staircase. She hurried along the hall and dashed down the stairs, arriving slightly breathless at the door of the library. A footman promptly opened it for her and she swept inside, a hopeful smile on her face.
Julian rose slowly from behind his desk and greeted her with a formal inclination of his head. “You need not have rushed, Sophy.”
“It’s quite all right,” she assured him, moving forward quickly. “I did not want to keep you waiting.”
“Wives are notorious for keeping their husbands waiting.”
“Oh.” She was not quite certain how to take the dry remark. “Well, I can always practice that particular talent another time.” She glanced around and spotted a green silk chair. “This morning I am far too anxious to hear your decision regarding my future.”