by Amanda Quick
“Thank you,” Julian lowered himself into a nearby chair. “Any man who has sat through an opera needs a glass of port.”
“Just what I said, myself, a few minutes ago. Although I must say, tonight’s spectacle was more entertaining than usual what with the Grand Featherstone putting in an appearance.”
“Don’t remind me.”
Miles chuckled. “Watching you trying to clamp the lid on your wife’s interest in the subject of Featherstone was the most amusing part of all, of course. Expect you failed miserably to distract her, eh? Women always get riveted on the one thing you wish they would ignore.”
“Hardly surprising, what with you deliberately encouraging her,” Julian muttered, pouring himself a glass of port.
“Be reasonable, Ravenwood. Everyone in town is talking about the Memoirs. You can’t really expect Lady Ravenwood to ignore them.”
“I can and do expect to guide my wife in her choice of literature,” Julian said coldly.
“Come now, be honest,” Miles urged with the familiarity of an old friend. “Your concern is not with her literary tastes, is it? You’re just afraid that sooner or later she’ll come across your name in those Memoirs.”
“My involvement with Featherstone is no concern of my wife’s.”
“A fine sentiment and one I’m certain is echoed by every man hiding out here tonight,” Miles assured him. Then his good natured expression sobered abruptly. “Speaking of those present this evening—”
Julian looked at him. “Yes?”
Miles cleared his throat and lowered his voice. “Thought you ought to know Waycott’s in the gaming room.”
Julian’s hand tightened on his glass but his tone remained cool. “Is he? How interesting. He does not generally patronize this club.”
“True. But he does have a membership, you know. Tonight, it appears, he has decided to make use of it.” Miles leaned forward. “You should know he’s offering to take wagers.”
“Is he, indeed?”
Miles cleared his throat. “Wagers regarding you and the Ravenwood emeralds.”
A cold fist clutched at Julian’s insides. “What sort of wager?”
“He is betting that you will not give Sophy the Ravenwood emeralds before the year is out,” Miles said. “You know what he’s implying, Julian. He’s as good as announcing to everyone that your new wife cannot take the place of Elizabeth in your life. If Lady Ravenwood hears about this, she will be crushed.”
“Then we must endeavor to make certain she does not hear about it. I know I can depend upon you to keep silent, Thurgood.”
“Yes, of course. This is hardly a quizzing matter like the business of Featherstone, but you must realize any number of people are likely to hear of it and you can’t possibly keep them all quiet. Perhaps it would be simplest if you just made certain Lady Ravenwood wears the jewels soon in public. That way—” Miles broke off, alarmed, as Julian got to his feet. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“I thought I would see what sort of play is going on at the tables tonight,” Julian said as he walked toward the door to the gaming room.
“But you rarely play. Why should you want to go into the gaming room? Wait!” Miles shot to his feet and trotted after him. “Really, Julian, I think it would be much better if you did not go in there tonight.”
Julian ignored him. He strolled into the crowded room and stood looking negligently around until he spotted his quarry. Waycott, who had just won at hazard, glanced around at that moment and his gaze alighted on Julian. He smiled slowly and waited.
Julian was aware that everyone else in the room was holding his breath. He knew Miles was hovering somewhere nearby and out of the corner of his eye he spotted Daregate putting down his hand of cards and getting languidly to his feet.
“Good evening, Ravenwood,” Waycott said blandly as Julian came to a halt in front of him. “Enjoy the opera this evening? I saw your lovely bride there although it was difficult to spot her in the crowd. But, then, I was naturally looking for the Ravenwood emeralds.”
“My wife is not the gaudy type,” Julian murmured. “I think she looks best when dressed in a simple, more classic style.”
“Do you indeed? And does she agree with you? Women do love their jewels. You of all men should have learned that lesson.”
Julian lowered his voice but kept the edge on his words. “When it comes to the important matters, my wife defers to my wishes. She trusts my judgment not only in regard to her attire but also in regard to her acquaintances.”
“Unlike your first wife, eh?” Waycott’s eyes were glittering with malice. “What makes you so certain the new Lady Ravenwood will be guided by you, Ravenwood? She seems an intelligent young woman, if a little naive. I suspect she will soon begin to rely on her own judgment in both her attire and her acquaintances. And then you will be in much the same position as you were in your first marriage, won’t you?”
“If I ever have cause to suspect that Sophy’s notions are being shaped by someone other than myself, then I will have no option but to take steps to remedy the situation.”
“What makes you believe you can remedy such a situation?” Waycott grinned lazily. “You had very little luck doing so in the past.”
“There is a difference this time around,” Julian said calmly.
“And what would that be?”
“This time I will know exactly where to look should any potential threat to my wife arise. I will not be slow to crush that threat.”
There was a cold fever burning in Waycott’s eyes now. “Should I take that as a warning?”
“I leave you to your own judgment, unsound though it is.” Julian inclined his head mockingly.
Waycott’s hand tightened into a clenched fist and the fever in his eyes grew hot. “Damn you, Ravenwood,” he hissed very softly, “If you think you have cause to call me out, then get on with it.”
“But I have no cause as of yet, do I?” Julian asked silkily.
“There is always the matter of Elizabeth,” Waycott challenged tightly. His fingers flexed and unflexed nervously.
“You credit me with far too rigid a code of honor,” Julian said. “I would certainly never bother to get up at dawn in order to kill a man because of Elizabeth. She was not worth that much effort.”
Waycott’s cheeks were stained red with his frustration and fury. “You have another wife now. Will you allow yourself to be cuckolded a second time, Ravenwood?”
“No,” Julian said very quietly. “Unlike Elizabeth, Sophy is, indeed, worth the effort of killing a man and I would not hesitate to do so should it become necessary.”
“You bastard. You were the one who was not worthy of Elizabeth. And do not be bothered to issue threats. We all know you will never challenge me or any other man again because of a woman. You said so, yourself, remember?” Waycott took a menacing step forward.
“Did I?” A surge of anticipation shot through Julian. But before anything more could be said by either man Daregate and Thurgood materialized at Julian’s side.
“There you are, Ravenwood,” Daregate said smoothly to Julian. “Thurgood and I have been looking for you. We mean to persuade you into giving us a hand or two of cards. You will excuse us, Waycott?” He flashed his slightly cruel, taunting smile.
Waycott’s blond head moved in a jerky nod. He turned on his heel and strode out of the room.
Julian watched him leave, feeling a savage disappointment. “I don’t know why you bothered to interfere,” he remarked to his friends. “Sooner or later I will probably have to kill him.”
NINE
The scented letter with the elegant lilac seal arrived on the side of Sophy’s tea tray the next morning. She sat up in bed, yawning and glanced curiously at the unexpected missive.
“When did this arrive, Mary?”
“One of the footmen said it was brought ’round by a lad not more than a half hour ago, my lady.” Mary bustled about the room, drawing the curtains and laying o
ut a pretty cotton morning dress that had been chosen by Fanny and Sophy a few days earlier.
Sophy sipped tea and slit the seal on the envelope. Idly she scanned the contents and then frowned as she realized they made no sense at first. There was no signature, just initials in the closing. It took her a second reading to comprehend the import of the letter.
Dear Madam:
First, allow me to begin by offering you my most sincerely felt felicitations on the occasion of your recent marriage. I have never had the honor of being introduced to you but I feel a degree of familiarity exists between us owing to our having a certain mutual friend. I am also certain that you are a woman of sensitivity and discretion as our friend is not the sort to make the same mistake in a second marriage as he made in his first.
Having faith in your discretion, I believe that, once having read the contents of this letter, you will wish to take the simple step that will ensure that the details of my most agreeable association with our mutual friend remain private.
I am, Madam, presently engaged in the difficult task of assuring the peace and tranquillity of my old age. I do not wish to be forced to rely on charity in my later years. I am achieving my goal by means of the publication of my Memoirs. Perhaps you are familiar with the first installments? There will be several more published in the near future.
My aim in writing these Memoirs is not to humiliate or embarrass, but rather simply to raise sufficient funds to provide for an uncertain future. In that light, I am offering an opportunity to those concerned to assure themselves that specific names do not appear in print and thereby cause unpleasant gossip. This same opportunity will also afford me the funds I seek without obliging me to resort to revealing intimate details of past associations. As you can see, the proposition I will put to you presently is beneficial to all involved.
Now, then, Madam, I come to the point: If you will send the sum of two hundred pounds to me by five o’clock tomorrow afternoon you may rest assured that a number of charming letters your husband once wrote to me do not appear in my Memoirs.
To you such a sum of money is a mere pittance, less than the cost of a new gown. To me it is a building block in the cozy little rose-covered cottage in Bath to which I will soon retire. I look forward to hearing from you promptly.
I remain, Madam,
yours very truly,
C. F.
Sophy reread the letter a third time, her hands shaking. She was dazed by the flames of rage that burst to life within her. It was not the fact that Julian might once have been intimately involved with Charlotte Featherstone that infuriated her, she realized. It was not even the threat of having that past association detailed in print, as humiliating as it would be, that left her trembling with anger.
What made Sophy lightheaded with fury was the realization that Julian had once taken the time to write love notes to a professional courtesan yet he could not be bothered to jot so much as a simple love poem to his new wife.
“Mary, put away the morning dress and get out my green riding habit.”
Mary glanced at her in surprise. “You have decided to ride this mornin’, ma’am?”
“Yes, I have.”
“Will Lord Ravenwood be going with you?” Mary inquired as she set to work.
“No, he will not.” Sophy shoved back the covers and got to her feet, still clutching Charlotte Featherstone’s letter in one hand. “Anne Silverthorne and Jane Morland ride nearly every morning in the park. I believe I will join them today.”
Mary nodded. “I’ll send word to have a horse and a groom waitin’ for you downstairs, my lady.”
“Please do that, Mary.”
A short while later Sophy was assisted onto a fine chestnut mare by a liveried groom who had his own pony waiting nearby. She set off at once for the park, leaving the groom to follow as best he could.
It was not difficult to find Anne and Jane who were cantering along one of the main paths. Their grooms followed at a discreet distance, chatting in low tones with each other.
Anne’s froth of red curls gleamed in the morning light and her vivid eyes sparkled with welcome as she caught sight of Sophy.
“Sophy, I’m so glad you could join us this morning. We are just beginning our ride. Isn’t it a beautiful day?”
“For some, perhaps,” Sophy allowed ominously. “But not for others. I must talk with both of you.”
Jane’s perpetually serious gaze grew even darker with concern. “Is something wrong, Sophy?”
“Very wrong. I cannot even bring myself to try to explain. It is beyond anything. Never have I been so humiliated. Here. Read this.” Sophy handed Charlotte’s letter to Jane as the three women slowed their horses to a walk along the path.
“Good heavens,” Jane breathed, looking stricken as she scanned the note. Without another word she handed the letter to Anne.
Anne perused the missive quickly and then glanced up, clearly shocked. “She is going to print the letters Ravenwood wrote to her?”
Sophy nodded, her mouth tight with anger. “So it seems. Unless, of course, I pay her two hundred pounds.”
“This is outrageous,” Anne declared in ringing accents.
“Only to be expected, I suppose,” Jane said more prosaically. “After all, Featherstone has not hesitated to name several members of the Beau Monde in the first installments. She even mentioned a royal Duke, remember? If Ravenwood was associated with her at some time in the past, it is logical that his turn would come sooner or later.”
“How dare he.” Sophy whispered half under her breath.
Jane gave her a sympathetic glance. “Sophy, dear, you are not that naive. It is the way of the world for most men in Society to have mistresses. At least she does not claim that Ravenwood is still an admirer. Be grateful for that much.”
“Grateful.” Sophy could barely speak.
“You have read the first installments of the Memoirs along with the rest of us. You have seen the number of well-known names Featherstone was associated with at one time or another. Most of them were married during the time they were involved with Charlotte Featherstone.”
“So many men leading double lives.” Sophy shook her head angrily. “And they have the gall to lecture women on honor and proper behavior. It is infuriating.”
“And so grossly unfair,” Anne added vehemently. “Just one more example of why I feel the married state has so little to offer an intelligent woman.”
“Why did he have to write Featherstone those love letters?” Sophy asked in soft anguish.
“If he put his feelings into writing, then the entire affair must have occurred a long time ago. Only a very young man would make that mistake,” Jane observed.
Ah, yes, thought Sophy. A young man. A young man who was still capable of strong romantic emotion. It would seem that all such sentiment had been burned out of Julian. The feelings she longed to hear him express to her he had squandered years ago on women such as Charlotte Featherstone and Elizabeth. It would seem there was nothing left for Sophy at all. Nothing.
In that moment she hated both Elizabeth and Charlotte with all the passion in her soul.
“I wonder why Featherstone did not send this note to Ravenwood?” Anne mused.
Jane’s mouth curved wryly. “Probably because she knew full well Ravenwood would tell her to go to the devil. I do not see Sophy’s husband paying blackmail, do you?”
“I do not know him very well,” Anne admitted, “but from all accounts, no, I do not see him sending the two hundred pounds to Featherstone. Not even to spare Sophy the humiliation that is bound to follow the publication of those horrid letters.”
“So,” concluded Jane, “knowing she stands little chance of getting any money out of Ravenwood, Featherstone has decided to try blackmailing Sophy, instead.”
“I will never pay blackmail to that woman,” Sophy vowed, her hands tightening so abruptly on the reins that her mare tossed her head in startled protest.
“But what else can you
do?” Anne asked gently. “Surely you do not want those letters to appear in print. Only think of the gossip that will ensue.”
“It will not be that bad,” Jane said soothingly. “Everyone will know the affair happened long before Ravenwood married Sophy.”
“The timing of the affair will not matter,” Sophy said dully. “There will be talk and we all know it. This will not be simple gossip Featherstone will be repeating. She will actually be printing letters that Julian himself wrote. Everyone will be discussing those blasted love notes. Quoting them at parties and the opera, no doubt. The entire ton will wonder if he has written similar letters to me and perhaps plagiarized himself in the process. I cannot bear it, I tell you.”
“Sophy’s right,” Anne agreed. “And she is even more vulnerable because she is a new bride. People are just becoming aware of her socially. This will add a nasty edge to the talk.”
There was no refuting that simple truth. All three women fell silent for a few minutes as their horses ambled along the path. Sophy’s brain was churning. It was difficult to think clearly. Every time she tried to sort out her thoughts she found herself thinking of the love letters Julian had once written to another woman.
“You know, of course, exactly what would happen if this situation were reversed,” Sophy finally said after a few more minutes of seething thought.
Jane frowned and Anne looked at Sophy with dawning awareness.
“Sophy, do not fret yourself about this,” Jane urged. “Show the letter to Ravenwood and let him handle it.”
“You’ve pointed out yourself that his idea of handling it would be to tell Featherstone to go to the devil. The letters would still appear in print.”
“It is a most unhappy situation,” Anne stated. “But I see no obvious solution.”
Sophy hesitated a moment and then said quietly, “We say that because we are women and therefore accustomed to being powerless. But there is a solution if one views this in the same light as a man would view it.”
Jane gave her a wary look. “What are you thinking, Sophy?”