Seduction (25 page)

different about Sophy tonight. He had never seen her quite like this and it

began to worry him. "What troubles you, Sophy? Are you afraid that the next time

you do something to annoy me I will promptly forget how good things are between

us in bed? Or don't you like the fact that I can make you want me, even when you

are angry at me?"

"I do not know," she said slowly. "This seduction business is very odd, is it

not?"

Hearing what had just transpired between them labeled as mere seduction bothered

him. For the first time he realized he did not want Sophy using that word to

describe what he did to her in bed. Seduction was what had happened to her

younger sister. He did not want Sophy putting his lovemaking into that category.

"Do not think of it as seduction," he ordered softly. "We made love, you and I."

"Did we?" Her eyes blazed with sudden intensity. "Do you love me, Julian?"

The uneasiness he had been feeling crystallized into anger as he finally began

to perceive what she was doing. What a fool he had been. Women were so damned

good at this kind of thing. Did she think that just because she had responded to

him—told him she loved him—that she could now wrap him around her little finger?

Julian felt the familiar trap start to close around him and instinctively

prepared to fight.

He was not certain what he would have said but as he lay there on top of her,

alarms sounding in his brain, Sophy smiled her strange, wistful smile and put

her fingertips against her lips.

"No," she said. "You do not need to say anything. It's all right, I understand."

"Understand what? Sophy, listen to me—"

"I think it would be better if we did not discuss this further. I spoke too

quickly, without thinking." Her head shifted restlessly on the pillow. "It must

be very late."

He groaned but accepted the reprieve eagerly. "Yes, very late." He rolled

reluctantly off of her onto his back, letting his hand slide possessively along

the curve of her hip.

"Julian?"

"What is it, Sophy?"

"Should you not be going back to your own room?"

That startled him. "I had not planned on it," he said roughly.

"I'd rather you did," Sophy said very quietly.

"Why is that?" Irritation brought him up on his elbow. He had been intending to

spend the night in her bed.

"You did the last time."

Only because he had known that if he had stayed with her that first time he

would have made love to her a second time and she had been sore and he had not

wanted her to think him a rutting bull. He had wanted to show some consideration

for the discomfort she had experienced that first night. "That does not mean I

intend to return to my own room every time we make love."

"Oh." In the candlelight she looked strangely disconcerted. "I would prefer some

privacy tonight, Julian. Please. I must insist."

"Ah, I believe I am beginning to understand," Julian said grimly as he shoved

back the covers. "You are insisting on your privacy because you did not like my

lack of response to your question a moment ago. I would not let you manipulate

me into giving you endless pledges of undying love so you have decided to punish

me in your own womanly way."

"No, Julian, that is not true."

He paid no attention to the entreaty in her voice. Stalking across the room, he

snatched up his dressing gown and went to the connecting door. Then he stopped

and swung around to glower at her. "While you are lying there in your lonely bed

enjoying your privacy, think about the pleasure we could be giving each other.

There is no law that states a man and a woman can only do it once a night, my

dear."

He went through the door and closed it behind himself with a loud crack that

emphasized his frustration and annoyance. Damn the little chit. Who did she

think she was trying to force his hand that way? And what made her think she

could get away with it? He'd had experience dealing with manipulative females

who had far more talent in that direction than Sophy ever would.

Sophy's paltry attempts to control him with sex made him want to laugh. If he

had not been so damnably furious with her, he would have laughed.

She was a silly, green girl in such matters even if she was twenty-three years

old. Elizabeth had been older and wiser in the ways of manipulating a man when

she had emerged from the schoolroom than Sophy would be when she was fifty.

Julian tossed the dressing gown across a chair and threw himself down onto the

bed. Arms folded behind his head, he lay staring up at the darkened ceiling,

hoping Sophy was already regretting her hasty action. If she thought she could

punish him and thus bring him to heel with such simple tactics, she was sadly

mistaken. He had fought far more subtle, far more strategically complex battles.

But Sophy was not Elizabeth and never would be. And Sophy had a reason to fear

seduction. He also suspected that his new wife had a streak of the romantic in

her soul.

Julian groaned and massaged his eyes as his temper began to cool. Perhaps he

owed his wife the benefit of a doubt. It was true she had tried to coax him into

vowing his love for her but it was equally true that she had a valid reason for

fearing a passion that was not labeled love.

In Sophy's limited experience the only alternative to love was the sort of

cruel, heartless seduction that had gotten her sister pregnant. Sophy would

naturally want some assurance she was not being subjected to the latter. She

would want to believe she was loved so she would not have to fear following in

her sister's footsteps.

But she was a married woman sharing a bed with her lawful husband, Julian

reminded himself angrily. She had no reason to fear being abandoned in her

sister's condition. Hell, he wanted an heir—needed one. The last thing he was

likely to do was cast her off if she got herself pregnant with his child.

Sophy had both the protection of the law and the Earl of Ravenwood's personal

vow to protect and care for her. To go about in terror of her sister's fate was

to indulge in a great deal of feminine nonsense and Julian decided he would not

tolerate it. He must make her see there was no parallel between her sister's

fate and her own.

Because he definitely did not want to spend many more nights alone in his own

bed.

Julian did not know how long he lay there plotting how best to teach his wife

the lesson he wanted her to learn but at some point he finally dozed off. His

sleep was restless, however, and hours later the sound of Sophy's door closing

softly in the hall jarred him from a light slumber.

He stirred, wondering if it was already time to rise. But when he opened one eye

and glared balefully at the window he could tell it was still dark behind the

curtains.

Nobody, not even Sophy, rose to ride at dawn in London. Julian turned over and

told himself to go back to sleep. But some instinct kept him from dozing off

again. He wondered who had opened Sophy's door at this ungodly hour.

Finally, unable to withstand the curiosity that was growing quickly within him,

Julian climbed out of bed and went to the connecting door. He opened it quietly.

It took him a few seconds to realize that Sophy's bed was empty. Even as he was

reaching that conclusion he heard the faint rattle of carriage wheels in the

street outside the window. As he listened, the vehicle came to a halt.

A jolt of irrational but violent fear went through him.

Julian leapt for the window, tearing aside the curtains just in time to see a

familiar slender figure dressed in a pair of men's breeches and a shirt jump

into the closed carriage. Sophy's tawny hair was bound up in a severe coil under

a veiled hat. She was carrying a wooden case in one hand. The driver, a slim,

red-haired lad dressed in black, clucked to the horses and the carriage moved

swiftly away down the street.

"Damn you, Sophy." Julian's fingers clenched so fiercely into the curtains that

he nearly ripped them from the rod. "God damn you to hell, you bitch."

I love you. Do you love me, Julian?

Sweet, lying bitch. "You're mine," he hissed through his teeth. "You are mine

and I will see you in hell before I let you go to another."

Julian dropped the curtains and raced into his own room, snatching up a shirt

and pulling on a pair of breeches. He grabbed his boots and ran out into the

hall. At the foot of the staircase he paused long enough to pull on the tight

leather riding boots and then he started for the servants' entrance. He would

have to get a horse from the stables and he would have to hurry if he was not to

lose sight of the carriage.

At the last moment he swung around and dashed back toward the library. He would

need a weapon. He intended to kill whoever had taken Sophy away. And after that

he would consider well what to do with his lying, deceitful wife. If she thought

he would tolerate from her what he had tolerated from Elizabeth she was in for a

great revelation.

The pistols were gone from the wall.

Julian barely had time to register that fact when he heard the sound of a

horse's hooves in the street. He ran for the front door, throwing it open just

as a woman dressed in black and wearing a black veil started to alight from a

tall, gray gelding. He saw that she had ridden astride, not sidesaddle.

"Oh, thank God, " the woman said, clearly startled at the sight of him in the

doorway. "I was afraid I would have to awaken the entire household to get to

you. Much better this way. Perhaps a scandal can be avoided after all. They have

gone to Leighton Field."

"Leighton Field?" That made no sense. Only cattle and duelists had any use for

Leighton Field.

"Do hurry, for heaven's sake. You can take my horse. As you can see, I am not

using a lady's saddle."

Julian did not hesitate. He seized the gray's bridle and vaulted into the

saddle. "Who the hell are you?" he demanded of the woman in the veil. "His

wife?"

"No, you do not understand, but you will soon enough. Just hurry."

"Go into the house," Julian ordered as the gray danced under him. "You can wait

inside. If one of the staff finds you there, say nothing except that I have

invited you to be there."

Julian put the big horse into a gallop without waiting for a response. Why in

God's name would Sophy and her lover run off to Leighton Field, Julian wondered

furiously. But he soon stopped asking himself that question and began trying to

figure out which male of the ton had sealed his own doom by taking Sophy away

that morning.

Leighton Field was cold and damp in the dim, predawn light. A cluster of sullen

trees, their heavy branches drooping moisture, crouched beneath a still-dark

sky. Mist rose from the ground and hung, thick and gray, at knee level. Anne's

small, closed carriage, the yellow curricle a short distance away, and the

horses all looked as if they were floating in midair.

When Sophy stepped out into the mist, her legs disappeared beneath her into the

fog. She looked at Anne, who was securing the carriage horse. The masculine

disguise was astonishingly clever. If she had not known who it was, Sophy would

have been certain the smudge-faced, red-haired figure was a young man.

"Sophy, are you sure you want to go through with this?" Anne asked anxiously as

she came forward.

Sophy turned to gaze at the curricle stopped a few yards away. The veiled figure

dressed in black had not yet alighted from the other vehicle. Charlotte

Featherstone appeared to be alone. "I do not have any choice, Anne."

"I wonder where Jane is? She said that if you were determined to be a fool, she

would feel obliged to witness it."

"Perhaps she changed her mind."

Anne shook her head. "Not like her."

"Well," Sophy said, straightening her shoulders, "we had best get on with it. It

will be dawn soon. I understand this sort of thing is always done at dawn.' She

started toward the mist-bound curricle.

The lone figure in the curricle stirred as Sophy approached. Charlotte

Featherstone, dressed in a handsome black riding habit, stepped down. Although

the courtesan was veiled, Sophy could see her hair had been carefully coiffed

for the occasion and that Charlotte was wearing a pair of dazzling pearl

earrings. One glance at the other woman's fashionable attire made Sophy feel

gauche. It was obvious the Grand Featherstone knew all there was to know about

style. She even dressed perfectly for a duel at dawn.

Anne went forward to secure the curricle horse.

"Do you know, madam," Charlotte said, lifting her veil to smile coolly at Sophy,

"I do not believe any man is worth the discomfort of rising at such an early

hour."

"Then why did you bother?" Sophy retorted. Feeling challenged, she, too, lifted

her veil.

"I am not sure," Charlotte admitted. "But it is not because of the Earl of

Ravenwood, charming though he was to me at one time. Perhaps it is the novelty

of the whole thing."

"I can well imagine that after your rather adventurous career, novelties are now

few and far between."

Charlotte's eyes fixed steadily on Sophy's face. Her voice lost much of its

mocking quality and grew serious. "I can assure you that having a Countess find

me an opponent worthy of an honorable challenge is, indeed, a rare event. One

might say a unique event. You must realize, of course, that no woman from your

level of Society has ever spoken to me, let alone accorded me such respect."

Sophy's head tilted slightly as she studied her opponent. "You may be assured

that I have great respect for you, Miss Featherstone. I have read your Memoirs

and I think I can guess something of what it must have cost you to rise to your

present position."

"Can you really?" Charlotte murmured. "How very imaginative of you."

Sophy flushed, momentarily embarrassed at the thought of how naive she must seem

to this sophisticated woman of the world. "Forgive me," she apologized quietly,

"I am certain that I cannot begin to understand what you have been through in

your life. But that does not mean I cannot respect the fact that you have made

your own way in the world and have done so on your own terms."

"I see. And because of this boundless respect you hold for me, you propose to

put a bullet through my heart this morning?"

Sophy's mouth tightened. "I can understand why you chose to write the Memoirs. I

can even understand your offering past lovers the opportunity to buy their way

out of print. But when you selected my husband as your next victim, you went too

far. I will not have those love letters in print for all the world to see and

mock."

"It would have been far simpler to pay me off, madam, than to go to all this

trouble."

"I cannot do that. Paying blackmail is a wretched, dishonorable recourse. I will

not stoop to it. We will settle this matter between us here this morning and

that will be the end of it."

"Will it? What makes you think that, assuming I am fortunate enough to survive,

I will not go ahead and print whatever I wish?"

"You have accepted my challenge. By meeting me this way, you have agreed to

settle the issues between us with pistols."

"You think I will abide by that agreement? You think this will be the end of the

matter, regardless of the outcome of this duel?"

"You would not have bothered to show up this morning had you not intended to end