Seduction (23 page)

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?"

"This," Sophy declared with a newfound sense of resolution, "is clearly a matter

of honor."

Anne and Jane looked at each other and then at Sophy.

"I agree," Anne said slowly, "but I do not see how viewing it in that way

changes anything."

Sophy looked at her friend. "If a man had received such a note threatening

blackmail because of a past indiscretion on the part of his wife, he would not

hesitate to call out the blackmailer."

"Call him out!" Jane was astounded. "But, Sophy, this is not the same sort of

situation at all."

"Is it not?"

"No, it is not," Jane said quickly. "Sophy, this involves you and another

female. You cannot possibly consider such a course of action."

"Why not?" Sophy demanded. "My grandfather taught me how to use a pistol and I

know where I can secure a set of duelers for this event."

"Where would you get a set of pistols?" Jane asked uneasily.

"There is a fine pair in a case mounted on the wall in Julian's library."

"Dear God," Jane breathed.

Anne sucked in her breath, her expression ablaze with determination. "She is

right, Jane. Why not call out Charlotte Featherstone? This is most certainly an

affair of honor. If the situation was altered so that the indiscretion was

Sophy's, you may be sure Ravenwood would do something quite violent."

"I would need seconds," Sophy said thoughtfully as the plan began to take shape

in her head.

"I will be one of your seconds, " Anne stated loyally. "As it happens, I know

how to load a pistol. And Jane will also volunteer, won't you, Jane?"

Jane gave a wretched exclamation. "This is madness. You simply cannot do it,

Sophy."

"Why not?"

"Well, first you would have to get Featherstone to agree to a duel. She is

highly unlikely to do so."

"I am not so certain she would refuse," Sophy murmured. "She is a most unusual,

adventurous woman. We have all agreed on that. She did not get where she is

today by being a coward."

"But why should she risk her life in a duel?" Jane asked.

"If she is an honorable woman, she will do so."

"But that is precisely the point, Sophy. She is not an honorable woman," Jane

exclaimed. "She is a woman of the demimonde, a courtesan, a professional

prostitute."

"That does not mean she is without honor," Sophy said. "Something about the

writing in her Memoirs leads me to believe she has a code of her own, and that

she lives by it."

"Honorable people do not send blackmail threats," Jane pointed out.

"Perhaps." Sophy was quiet for a moment. "Then again, perhaps they do under

certain circumstances. Featherstone no doubt feels that the men who once used

her now owe her a pension for her old age. She is merely attempting to collect

it."

"And according to the gossip, she is honoring her word not to name names of the

people who pay the blackmail," Anne put in helpfully. "Surely that implies some

sort of honorable behavior."

"Do not tell me you are actually defending her." Jane looked stunned.

"I do not care how much she collects from the others, but I will not have

Julian's love letters to her appear in print," Sophy stated categorically.

"Then send her the two hundred pounds," Jane urged. "If she's so terribly

honorable, she will not print the letters."

"That would not be right. It is dishonorable and cowardly to pay off a

blackmailer," Sophy said. "So you see, I really have no choice but to call her

out. It is exactly what a man would do in similar circumstances."

"Dear God," Jane whispered helplessly. "Your logic is beyond me. I cannot

believe this is happening."

"Will both of you help me?" Sophy looked at her friends.

"You may count on me," Anne said. "And on Jane, too. She just needs time to

adjust to the situation."

"Dear God," Jane said again.

"Very well," Sophy said, "the first step is to see if Featherstone will agree to

meet me on a field of honor. I will send her a message today."

"As your second, I will see that it is delivered."

Jane stared at her, appalled. "Are you insane? You cannot possibly call on a

woman such as Featherstone. You might be seen. It would ruin you utterly in

Society. You would be forced to return to your stepfather's estate in the

country. Do you want that?"

Anne paled and for an instant genuine fear appeared in her eyes. "No. I most

certainly do not want that."

Sophy was alarmed at her friend's violent reaction to the thought of being sent

back to the country. She frowned worriedly. "Anne, I do not want you taking any

undue risks on my behalf."

Anne shook her head quickly, her cheeks returning to their normal warm color and

her eyes lightening. "It's quite all right. I know exactly how this matter can

be handled. I will send a boy around for your note to Featherstone and have him

bring it directly to me. I will then deliver it in disguise to Featherstone and

wait for a response. Do not worry, no one will recognize me. When I dress the

part, I look very much like a young man. I have tried it before and enjoyed it

thoroughly."

"Yes," Sophy said, thinking about it, "that should work well."

Jane's anxious glance moved from Anne to Sophy and back again. "This is

madness."

"It is my only honorable option," Sophy said soberly. "We must hope Featherstone

will accept the challenge."

"I, for one, will pray she refuses," Jane said tightly.

When Sophy returned from her ride a half hour later she was told Julian wished

to see her in the library. Her first instinct was to send word that she was

indisposed. She was not at all certain she could face her husband with any sense

of composure just now. The letter of challenge to Charlotte Featherstone was

waiting to be written.

But avoiding Julian would be cowardly and today, of all days, she was determined

not to be a coward. She must get in practice for what lay ahead.

"Thank you, Guppy," she said to the butler. "I will go and see him at once." She

spun on her booted heel and walked boldly toward the library.

Julian looked up from a journal of accounts as she swept into the room. He rose

politely. "Good morning, Sophy. I see you have been riding."

"Yes, my lord. It was a fine morning for it." Her eyes went to the cased dueling

pistols mounted on the wall behind Julian. They were a lethal looking pair,

long, heavy-barreled weapons created by Manton, one of the most famous gunmakers

in London.

Julian gave Sophy a brief, chiding smile. "If you had informed me you intended

to ride today, I would have been happy to join you."

"I rode with friends."

"I see." His brows arched faintly in the characteristic way they did when he was

vaguely annoyed. "Do I take that to mean you do not consider me a friend?"

Sophy looked at him and wondered if one ever risked one's life in a duel over a

mere friend. "No, my lord. You are not my friend. You are my husband."

His mouth hardened. "I would be both, Sophy."

"Really, my lord?"

He sat down and slowly closed the journal. "You do not sound as if you believe

such a condition possible."

"Is it, my lord?"

"I think we can manage it if we both work at it. Next time you wish to ride in

the morning, you must allow me to accompany you, Sophy."

"Thank you, my lord. I will consider it. But I certainly would not wish to

distract you from your work."

"I would not mind the distraction." He smiled invitingly. "We could always put

the time to good use discussing farming techniques."

"I fear we have exhausted the subject of sheep breeding, my lord. Now, if you

will excuse me, I must be going."

Unable to bear any more of this face-to-face confrontation, Sophy whirled and

fled from the room. Plucking up the folds of her riding skirts she ran up the

stairs and down the hall to the privacy of her bedchamber.

She was pacing her room, composing the note to Featherstone in her mind when

Mary knocked on the door.

"Come in," Sophy said and winced when her maid walked into the room holding her

jaunty green riding hat. "Oh, dear, did I lose that in the hall, Mary?"

"Lord Ravenwood told a footman you lost it but a few minutes ago in the library,

ma'am. He sent it up here so's you wouldn't wonder where it was."

"I see. Thank you. Now, Mary, I need privacy. I wish to catch up on my

correspondence."

"Certainly, ma'am. I'll tell the staff you don't want to be bothered for a

while."

"Thank you," Sophy said again and sank down at her writing desk to pen the

letter to Charlotte Featherstone.

It took several attempts to get it right but in the end Sophy was satisfied with

the result.

Dear Miss C. F:

I received your outrageous note concerning our mutual friend this morning. In

your note you threaten to publish certain indiscreet letters unless I submit to

blackmail. I will do no such thing.

I must take leave to tell you that you have committed a grave insult for which I

demand satisfaction. I propose that we arrange to settle this matter at dawn

tomorrow morning. You may choose the weapons, of course, but I suggest pistols

as I can easily provide them.

If you are as concerned with your honor as you are with your old-age pension,

you will respond in the affirmative at once.

Yours Very Truly, S.

Sophy blotted the note very carefully and sealed it. Tears burned in her eyes.

She could not get the thought of

Julian's love letters to a courtesan out of her head. Love letters. Sophy knew

she would have sold her soul for a similar token of affection from Ravenwood.

And the man had the brazen nerve to claim he wished friendship as well as his

husbandly privileges from her.

It struck Sophy as ironic that she might very possibly be risking her life

tomorrow at dawn for a man who did not and probably could not love her.

Charlotte Featherstone's response to Sophy's challenge arrived later that

afternoon, delivered by a ragged-looking, dirty-faced lad with red hair who came

to the kitchens. The note was short and to the point. Sophy held her breath as

she sat down to read it.

Madam:

Dawn tomorrow will be quite acceptable, as will pistols. I suggest Leighton

Field, a short distance outside the city, as it is bound to be deserted at that

hour. Until dawn, I remain very truly yours in honor,

C. E

Sophy's emotions were in chaos by bedtime. She was aware that Julian had been

annoyed by her long silences at dinner but it had been beyond her to keep up a

casual conversation. When he had retired to the library, she had excused herself

and gone straight upstairs to her room.

Once inside the sanctuary of her bedchamber she read and reread Featherstone's

terrifyingly brief note and wondered what she had done. But she knew there was

no turning back now. Her life would be in the hands of fate tomorrow.

Sophy went through the ritual of preparing for bed but she knew she could not

possibly sleep tonight. After Mary said good night, Sophy stood staring out her

window and wondered if Julian would be making arrangements for her funeral

within a few short hours.

Perhaps she would only be wounded, she told herself, her imagination running

wild with gory scenes. Perhaps her death would be a long and lingering one from

a raging fever caused by a gunshot wound.

Or perhaps it would be Charlotte Featherstone who died.

The thought of killing another human being left Sophy abruptly sick to her

stomach. She swallowed heavily and wondered if her nerves would hold out until

she had satisfied the requirements of honor. She dared not prepare a tonic for

herself because it might slow her reactions at dawn.

Sophy tried to brace herself by deciding that with any luck at all, either she

or Charlotte would merely be wounded. Or, perhaps, both she and her opponent

would miss their mark and neither of them would be hurt. That would certainly