by Amanda Quick
“An interesting theory. And a possible explanation.”
“Does the technique generally work? With mistresses, I mean?”
Julian missed a step and caught himself smoothly. “Uh, yes. Generally.”
“Mistresses must be very poor-spirited creatures.”
“It is certainly true that my lady has nothing in common with such women. She has a full measure of pride, for example. A mistress cannot afford much pride.”
“I do not believe that you are short of that commodity, yourself.”
Julian’s big hand flexed carefully around her fingers. “You are right.”
“It would seem that you and your lady have that much in common, at least. It should provide a basis for understanding.”
“Well, Madam Gypsy? Now you know my sad story. What do you think my odds are for the future?”
“If you truly want your fortune to change I think that first you must convince your lady that you respect her pride and sense of honor as much as you would that of a man.”
“And how would you suggest I go about doing that?” Julian inquired.
Sophy drew in a breath. “First, you must give her something more valuable than the bracelet.” Her fingers were suddenly crushed in Julian’s palm.
“And what would that be, Madam Gypsy?” There was a dark, brooding menace in his voice now. “A pair of earrings, perhaps? A necklace?”
Sophy struggled and failed to release her fingers from Julian’s powerful grip. “I have a strong hunch your lady would appreciate a rose you had picked by hand or a love letter or a few verses conveying some affection from you far more than she would jewelry, sir.”
Julian’s fingers relaxed. “Ah, you think she is a romantic at heart? I had begun to suspect that, myself.”
“I think she simply knows that it is very easy for a man to clear his conscience with a gift of jewelry.”
“Perhaps she will not be happy until she thinks me completely snared in the coils of love,” Julian suggested coolly.
“Would that be so bad, sir?”
“It is best if she understands that I am not susceptible to that sort of emotion,” Julian said gently.
“Perhaps she is learning the truth of that the hard way,” Sophy said.
“Do you think so?”
“I think it very probable that she will soon prove herself intelligent enough to refrain from pining for that which is unobtainable.”
“And what will she do then?”
“She will endeavor to give you the sort of marriage you wish. One in which love and mutual understanding are not important. She will stop wasting her time and energy seeking ways to make you fall in love with her. She will busy herself with other matters and live a life of her own.”
Julian crushed her fingers again and his eyes glittered behind his mask. “Does that mean she will seek other conquests?”
“No, sir, it does not. Your lady is the sort to give her heart but once and if it is rejected she will not try to give it to another. She will simply pack it away in cotton wool and busy herself with other projects.”
“I did not say I would reject the gift of my lady’s heart. Quite the opposite. I would have her know that I would welcome such a treasure. I would take good care of her and her love.”
“I see,” Sophy said. “You would have her hopelessly snared in the coils of love at which you scoff but you would not take the risk, yourself. That is your way of mastering her?”
“Do not put words in my mouth, Madam Gypsy. The lady in question is my wife,” Julian stated categorically. “It would be convenient for all concerned if she also happens to love me. I merely want to assure her that her love is safe with me.”
“Because you could then use that love to control her?”
“Do all fortune-tellers interpret their clients’ words so broadly?”
“If you do not feel you are getting your money’s worth, you need not concern yourself. I do not intend to charge you for this particular fortune.”
“Thus far you have not told me my fortune. You have only tried to give me a great deal of advice,” Julian said.
“It was my understanding you sought a way to change your luck.”
“Why don’t you simply tell me if there is any luck to be had in my future?” Julian suggested.
“Unless you are willing to change your ways I am sure you will get exactly the sort of marriage you wish, sir. Your wife will go her own way and you will go yours. You will probably see her as often as it proves necessary to ensure yourself of an heir and she will endeavor to stay out of your way the rest of the time.”
“It sounds to me as if my wife intends to sulk throughout the remainder of our marriage,” Julian observed dryly. “A daunting prospect.” He adjusted Sophy’s scarf again as it threatened to slide to the floor and then his fingertips traced the shape of the black metal ring she wore. He glanced idly down at her hand. “A most unusual piece of jewelry, Madam Gypsy. Do all fortune-tellers wear a ring such as this?”
“No. It is a keepsake.” She hesitated as a jolt of fear went through her. “Do you recognize it, sir?”
“No, but it is singularly ugly. Who gave it to you?”
“It belonged to my sister,” Sophy said cautiously. She told herself to be calm, Julian was only showing mild curiosity about the ring. “I wear it sometimes to remind me of her fate.”
“And what was her fate?” Julian was watching her steadily now as if he could see beneath her mask.
“She was foolish enough to love a man who did not love her in return,” Sophy whispered. “Perhaps, like you, he simply was not susceptible to the emotion but he did not mind in the least that she was very susceptible. She gave her heart and it cost her her life.”
“I think you draw the wrong lessons from your sister’s sad story,” Julian said gently.
“Well, I certainly do not intend to kill myself,” Sophy retorted. “But I also do not intend to give a valuable gift to a man who is incapable of appreciating it. Excuse me, sir, I believe I see some friends of mine standing near the window. I must speak to them.” Sophy made to slide away from Julian’s grasp.
“What about my fortune?” Julian demanded, holding her with a grip on the ends of her scarf.
“Your fortune is in your own hands, sir.” Sophy deftly slipped out from under the scarf and fled into the crowd.
Julian was left in the middle of the dance floor, the colorful silk scarf trailing from his strong fingers. He stood contemplating it for a long moment and then, with a slow smile, folded it up and tucked it into an inside cloak pocket. He knew where to find his gypsy lady later tonight.
Still smiling slightly to himself, he went outside to call for his carriage. Aunt Fanny and Harriette would see Sophy safely home as planned. Julian decided he could afford to spend an hour or so at one of his clubs before returning to the house.
He was in a much more cheerful mood than he had been earlier that day and the reason was clear. It was true Sophy was still angry with him, still feeling defiant and hurt by his failure to condone her actions that morning. But he had satisfied himself that she had been telling the truth, as usual, when she had claimed to be in love with him.
He had been almost certain of it when he’d found the bracelet flung in a heap on his pillow this afternoon. It was why he had not barged straight into her bedchamber and put the bracelet on her wrist himself. Only a woman in love would hurl such an expensive gift back in a man’s face and hold out for a sonnet instead.
He was no good at sonnets, but he might try his hand at a short note to accompany the bracelet the next time he tried to give it to Sophy.
More than ever he wished he knew the fate of the emeralds. The new Countess of Ravenwood would look very good in them. He could envision her wearing the stones and nothing else.
The image danced in his mind for a moment, causing his groin to grow heavy and taut. Later, Julian promised himself. Later he would take his gypsy lady into his arms and touch her
and kiss her until she cried out her response, until she pleaded with him for fulfillment, until she told him again of her love.
Julian discovered that now he had heard the words, he was suddenly very hungry to hear them again.
He was not overly concerned about her threat to wrap her heart in cotton wool and stow it away on the shelf. He was getting to know her and if there was one thing of which he was increasingly certain, it was that Sophy could not long ignore the tug of the tender, honest emotions that flowed so vibrantly in her veins.
Unlike Elizabeth, who was a victim of her own wild passions, Sophy was a victim of her own heart. But she was a woman and she lacked the strength necessary to protect herself from those who would abuse her nature. She needed him to take care of her.
The trick now was to make her understand that she not only needed him, she could trust him with her love.
That thought brought the image of the black metal ring to mind. Julian scowled in the darkness of the carriage. He did not like the idea that Sophy had taken to wearing the memento of her sister. Not only was it unattractive, as he had told her, but it was obvious she was using it to remind herself that it was never wise to give one’s heart to a man who did not love in return.
Daregate emerged from the card room as Julian walked into his club and took a seat near a bottle of port. There was a glitter of cold amusement in Daregate’s eyes when he spotted his friend. One look at his face and Julian knew word of what had happened at Leighton Field had leaked out.
“There you are, Ravenwood.” Daregate clapped him on the shoulder and dropped into the nearest chair. “I was worried about you, my friend. Breaking up duels is a dangerous business. Could have gotten yourself shot. Women and pistols don’t mix well, you know.”
Julian fixed him with a quelling look that had predictably little effect. “How did you hear such nonsense?”
“Ah, so it is true,” Daregate observed with satisfaction. “I thought it might be. Your lady is just spirited enough to do it and God knows Featherstone is eccentric enough to meet her.”
Julian gave him a steady look. “I asked how you heard of it?”
Daregate poured himself a class of port. “By merest chance, I assure you. Do not worry. It is not common knowledge and will not become so.”
“Featherstone?” Julian vowed he would make good on his promise to ruin her if she had, indeed talked.
“No. You may rest assured she is saying nothing. I got it secondhand from my valet who happened to attend a boxing match this afternoon with the man who handles Feather-stone’s horses. He told my man he’d had to get Featherstone’s rig out before dawn this morning.”
“And just how did the groom figure out what was happening?”
“It seems the groom is dallying with one of Featherstone’s maids who told him a certain lady of quality had taken exception to one of Featherstone’s little blackmail notes. There was no name mentioned, which is why you are safe. Apparently the principals in this little matter all have some sense of discretion. But when I heard the story I guessed Sophy might have been the offended party. Can’t think of any other lady with the guts to do such a thing.”
Julian swore under his breath. “One word of this to anyone else and I swear I will have your head, Daregate.”
“Now, Julian, don’t be angry.” Daregate’s smile was fleeting but surprisingly genuine. “This is just servant gossip and will soon die out. As I said, there was no name mentioned. As long as none of the principals talk, you can brazen it out. If I were you, I’d be flattered. Personally, I cannot think of any other man who’s wife would think enough of him to call out his mistress.”
“Ex-mistress,” Julian muttered. “Kindly remember that. I have spent altogether too much time explaining that fact to Sophy.”
Daregate chuckled. “But did she comprehend your explanations, Ravenwood? Wives can be a little thickheaded about such things.”
“How would you know? You’ve never bothered to marry.”
“I am capable of learning by observation,” Daregate said smoothly.
Julian’s brows lifted. “You may have ample opportunity to put what you have learned into practice if that uncle of yours continues in his present ways. There’s a good chance he’ll either get himself killed by a jealous husband or else he’ll drink himself to death.”
“Either way, by the time his fate catches up with him there will be very little chance of salvaging the estate,” Daregate said with sudden savagery. “He has gutted it and drained the blood from its carcass.”
Before Julian could respond to that, Miles Thurgood strolled over to sit down nearby. It was obvious he had overheard Daregate’s last words.
“If you do inherit the title, the solution is obvious,” Miles said reasonably. “You will simply have to find yourself a rich heiress. Come to think of it, that redheaded friend of Sophy’s is probably going to be quite wealthy when her stepfather finally has the decency to depart to the next world.”
“Anne Silverthorne?” Daregate grimaced. “I’m told she has no intention of ever marrying.”
“I believe Sophy felt very much the same way,” Julian murmured. He thought about the young woman in boy’s garb who had been handling the pistols that morning and frowned as he recalled the red hair stuffed under a cap. “In fact, I think I can assure you that they have far too much in common. Come to think of it, you would be wise to avoid her, Daregate. She would give you as much trouble as Sophy is presently giving me.”
Daregate slanted him a curious look. “I will keep that in mind. If I do inherit, I will have my hands full salvaging the estate. The last thing I would need would be a wild, headstrong wife like Sophy.”
“My wife is neither wild nor headstrong,” Julian stated unequivocally.
Daregate gazed at him thoughtfully. “You are right. Elizabeth was wild and headstrong. Sophy is merely high-spirited. She is nothing like your first countess, is she?”
“Nothing like her at all.” Julian poured himself a glass of port. “I think it’s time we changed the subject.”
“Agreed,” Daregate said. “The prospect of having to find myself a rich, willing heiress to marry in order to save the estate is almost enough to make me wish long life and good health to my dear uncle.”
“Almost,” Miles repeated with amused insight, “but not quite enough. If that estate falls into your hands we all know you will do whatever you have to do in order to save it.”
“Yes.” Daregate tossed back his port and reached for the bottle. “It would keep me busy, wouldn’t it?”
“As I said a moment ago,” Julian remarked, “I think it’s time to change the subject. I have a question for both of you and I do not want either it or the answer to go beyond the three of us. Is that understood?”
“Certainly,” Daregate said calmly.
Miles nodded, turning serious. “Understood.”
Julian looked first at one and then the other. He trusted them both. “Have you ever seen or heard of a ring of black metal embossed with a triangle and some sort of animal head?”
Daregate and Thurgood glanced at each other and then at Julian. They shook their heads.
“Don’t believe so,” Miles said.
“Is it important?” Daregate asked.
“Perhaps,” Julian said quietly. “Then again, perhaps not. But it seems to me that I once heard rumors of such rings being used by members of a certain club.”
Daregate frowned thoughtfully. “I believe I remember those rumors too, now that you mention them. A club formed at one of the colleges, wasn’t it? The young men supposedly used black rings to signal each other. It was all very secretive and I don’t recall anyone ever saying what the purpose of the club was. What makes you mention it now?”
“Sophy has come into possession of such a ring. It was given to her by—” Julian broke off. He had no right to relate the full story of Sophy’s sister Amelia. “By a woman friend in Hampshire. I saw it and was curious about it because the
sight of it tugged at my memory.”
“Probably just an old keepsake now,” Miles said easily.
“It’s an unpleasant looking thing,” Julian said.
“If you bothered to give your wife some decent jewelry, she would not be obliged to wear old, cast-off school rings,” Daregate said bluntly.
Julian scowled at him. “This from a man who may someday seriously have to contemplate marrying for money? Do not worry about Sophy’s jewelry collection, Daregate. I assure you, I am quite capable of seeing my wife properly outfitted in that department.”
“About time. Pity about the emeralds, though. When are you going to announce that they have disappeared forever?” Daregate asked unrepentantly.
Miles stared. “They’ve disappeared?”
Julian scowled. “Stolen. One of these days they will show up at a jeweler’s when somebody can wait no longer to pawn them.”
“If you don’t make some explanation soon, people are going to begin to believe Waycott’s claim that you cannot bear to see them on another woman after having first given them to Elizabeth.”
Miles nodded quickly. “Have you explained to Sophy about the emeralds having disappeared? Be most unfortunate otherwise if she were to hear Waycott’s remarks about you not wanting her to have them.”
“If it becomes necessary, I will explain the situation to Sophy,” Julian said stonily. In the meantime she could damn well learn to wear the jewelry he did choose to give her. “About the black ring,” he went on softly.
“What about it?” Daregate eyed him. “Are you worried about Sophy wearing it?”
“Can’t see that there’s anything to worry about other than that people will think Ravenwood’s being damned stingy about giving his wife jewelry,” Miles said.
Julian drummed his fingers lightly on the arm of the chair. “I would like to know a bit more about this old college club. But I do not want anyone to know I am seeking answers.”
Daregate leaned back in his chair and crossed his ankles. “I’ve got nothing better to do. I could make a few discreet inquiries for you.”