by Amanda Quick
“A few minutes,” she exclaimed, startled. “You speak as though we will do this several more times tonight.”
“I rather believe we shall,” Julian said with evident anticipation. His warm palm flattened possessively on her stomach. “I have been kept waiting a long time for you, Madam Wife, and I mean to make up for all the nights we have wasted.”
Sophy felt the soreness between her legs and a bolt of alarm went through her. “Forgive me,” she said hastily, “I want very much to be a good wife to you but I do not think I shall recover as quickly as you seem to believe you will. Would you mind very much if we did not do this again right away?”
He frowned in immediate concern. “Sophy, did I hurt you badly?”
“No, no. It’s just that I have no wish to do it again quite so soon. Parts of it were … were quite pleasant, I assure you but if you do not mind, my lord, I would prefer to wait until another night.”
He winced. “I am sorry, sweetheart. It is all my fault. I meant to go much more slowly with you.” He rolled to one side and stood up beside the bed.
“Where are you going?”
“I will be back shortly,” he promised.
She watched him walk through the shadows to the dresser where he poured water from the pitcher into a bowl. Then he took a towel off the stand and soaked it.
As he returned to the bed it dawned on Sophy what he intended to do. She sat up quickly, pulling the sheet to her throat. “No, Julian, please, I can manage by myself.”
“You must allow me, Sophy. This is yet another of a husband’s privileges.” He sat down on the side of the bed and gently but firmly tugged the sheet from her reluctant grasp. “Lie down, sweetheart, and let me make you more comfortable.”
“Truthfully, Julian, I would rather you did not …”
But there was no stopping him. He urged her down onto her back. Sophy muttered an embarrassed oath that made Julian laugh.
“There is no reason to turn reticent now, my love. It is far too late. I have already experienced your sweet passion, remember? A few minutes ago you were warm and damp and very welcoming. You allowed me to touch you everywhere.” He finished sponging her off and discarded the stained towel.
“Julian, I … I must ask you something,” Sophy said as she quickly readjusted the sheet to preserve some semblance of modesty.
“What is it you wish to know?” He came over to the bed and calmly climbed in beside her.
“You told me there were ways of preventing this sort of thing from resulting in a babe. Did you use any of those ways tonight?”
A short, tense silence settled over the bed. Julian leaned back against the pillows, his arms folded behind his head.
“No,” he finally said quite bluntly. “I did not.”
“Oh.” She tried to hide some of the anxiety she felt as she absorbed that information.
“You knew what I wanted out of this arrangement when you agreed to be a proper wife to me, Sophy.”
“An heir and no trouble.” Perhaps the illusion of intimacy a few minutes earlier had been simply that, she thought dully, an illusion. There was on denying that Julian had wanted her very much when he had come to her this evening, but she would do well not to forget that his primary goal was to get himself an heir.
Another silence gripped the shadowed bed. Then Julian asked softly, “Would it be so bad to bear me a son, Sophy?”
“What happens if I bear you a daughter, my lord?” she asked coolly, avoiding a direct answer to his question.
He smiled unexpectedly. “A daughter would do very nicely, especially if she took after her mother.”
Sophy wondered how to take the compliment and decided not to question it too deeply. “But you require a son for Ravenwood.”
“Then we will just have to keep trying until we get one, won’t we?” Julian asked. He reached out and pulled her against his side, cradling her head on his shoulder. “But I don’t think we will have too much trouble making a son. Sinclairs always produce sons and you are strong and healthy. But you did not answer my question, Sophy. Would you mind very much if it should come about that you conceived tonight?”
“It is very soon in our marriage,” she pointed out hesitantly. “We both have much to learn about each other. It would seem wiser to wait.” Until you can learn to love me, she added silently.
“I see no point in waiting. A babe would be good for you, Sophy.”
“Why? Because it would make me more aware of my duties and responsibilities as your wife?” she retorted. “I assure you, I am already quite cognizant of them.”
Julian sighed. “I only meant that I believe you would make a good mother. And I think a babe of your own would perhaps make you more content with your role as a wife.”
Sophy groaned, angry at herself for having ruined the mood of tenderness and intimacy that Julian had offered after the lovemaking. She sought to retrieve the fragile moment with a dose of humor. Turning on her side she smiled down at him teasingly. “Tell me, Julian, are all husbands so arrogantly certain they know what is best for their wives?”
“Sophy, you wound me.” He grimaced, striving to look both innocent and injured. But there was relief and a hint of laughter in his eyes. “You do think me arrogant, don’t you?”
“There are times when I am unable to avoid that conclusion.”
His gaze grew serious again. “I know it must seem that way to you. But in all truth, I want to be a good husband to you, Sophy.”
“I know that,” she murmured gently. “It is precisely because I do know it that I am so willing to tolerate your bouts of high-handedness. You see what an understanding wife you have?”
He regarded her through half-lowered lids. “A paragon of a wife.”
“Never doubt it for a moment. I could give lessons.”
“A notion that would send chills through the other husbands of the ton. I will, however, endeavor to keep your good intentions in mind when you are involved in such tricks as brewing sleeping potions and reading that damnable Wollstonecraft.” He raised his head long enough to kiss Sophy soundly and then he flopped back onto the snowy pillows. “There is something else we must discuss tonight, my paragon of a wife.”
“What is that?” She yawned, aware that she was growing sleepy. It was strange having him in her bed but she was discovering a certain comfort in his strength and warmth. She wondered if he would stay the night.
“You were annoyed earlier when I said that I thought we should consummate our marriage,” he began slowly.
“Only because you insisted that it was for my own good.”
He smiled faintly. “Yes, I can see where you get the notion that I have a tendency to be arrogant and high handed. But be that as it may, it is definitely time you knew the true risk you run when you flirt with Waycott and his like.”
Sophy’s sleepy good humor vanished in a heartbeat. She pushed herself up on her elbow and glared down at Julian. “I was not flirting with the Viscount.”
“Yes, Sophy, you were. I will allow that you may not have realized it but I assure you, he was looking at you as if you were a gooseberry tart covered in cream. And everytime you smiled at him, he licked his chops.”
“Julian, you exaggerate!”
He pulled her back down onto his shoulder. “No, Sophy, I do not. And Waycott is not the only one who was salivating around you this evening. You must be very careful of such men. Above all you must not encourage them, even unwittingly.”
“Why do you fear Waycott in particular?”
“I do not fear him. But I accept the fact that he is dangerous to women and I do not want my wife courting such danger. He would seduce you in a moment if he thought it possible.”
“Why me? There were a number of far more beautiful women at Lady Yelverton’s ball tonight.”
“He will pick you above all others if the chance comes his way because you are my wife.”
“But why?”
“He bears a deep and abiding hatred
for me, Sophy. Never forget that.”
And suddenly everything fell into place. “Was Waycott one of Elizabeth’s lovers?” she asked without pausing to think.
Julian’s jaw tightened and his expression reverted to the grim, forbidding mask that had helped earn him the title of devil. “I have told you I do not discuss my first wife with anyone. Not even you, Sophy.”
She started to edge out of his circling arm. “Forgive me, Julian. I forgot myself.”
“Yes, you did.” His arm locked around her as he felt her trying to pull away. He ignored her small struggles. “But since you are a paragon of a wife, I am sure it will not happen again, will it?”
Sophy stopped trying to escape the chain of his arm. She narrowed her gaze and studied him intently. “Are you teasing me again, Julian?”
“No, madam, I assure you, I am very serious.” But he was smiling that slow, lazy smile of satisfaction that had been on his face when he had finished making love to her. “Turn your head, sweetheart. I want to examine something.” He used his thumb to guide her chin until he had her face angled so that he could study her eyes in the candlelight. Then he shook his head slowly. “It is just as I feared.”
“What’s wrong?” she asked anxiously.
“I told myself that once I had made love to you properly, you would lose some of that clear-eyed innocence but I was wrong. Your eyes are as clear and innocent as they were before I bedded you. It is going to be very difficult to protect you from Society’s predators, my dear. I can see that I have only one option.”
“What option is that, my lord?” Sophy asked demurely.
“I will have to spend more of my time by your side.” Julian yawned hugely. “From now on you must give me a list of your evening engagements. I will be accompanying you whenever possible.”
“Really, my lord? Are you fond of the opera?”
“I detest the opera.”
Sophy grinned. “That is, indeed, a pity. Your aunt, her friend Harriette, and I plan to go to King’s Theatre tomorrow evening. Will you feel obliged to join us?”
“A man does what he must,” Julian said nobly.
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 influe
nce. 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.”