Seduction

ONE

Julian Richard Sinclair, Earl of Ravenwood, listened in stunned disbelief as his formal offer of marriage was rejected. On the heels of disbelief came a cold, controlled anger. Who did the lady think she was, he wondered. Unfortunately, he could not ask her. The lady had chosen to absent herself. Julian's generous offer was being rejected on her behalf by her obviously uncomfortable grandfather.

"Devil take it, Ravenwood, I don't like this any better than you do. Thing is, the girl's not a young chit straight out of the schoolroom," Lord Dorring explained morosely. "Used to be an amiable little thing. Always eager to please. But she's three and twenty now and during the past few years she seems to have developed a considerable will of her own. Dashed annoying at times, but there it is. Can't just order her about these days."

"I am aware of her age," Julian said dryly. I was led to believe that because of it she would be a sensible, tractable sort of female."

"Oh, she is," Lord Dorring sputtered. Most definitely she is. Don't mean to imply otherwise. She's no addle-brained young twit given to hysterics or anything of that sort." His florid, bewhiskered face was flushed with evident dismay. "Normally she's very good-natured. Very amenable. A perfect model of, uh, feminine modesty and grace."

"Feminine modesty and grace, Julian repeated slowly.

Lord Dorring brightened. "Precisely, m'lord. Feminine modesty and grace. Been a great prop to her grandmother since the death of our youngest son and his wife a few years back. Sophy's parents were lost at sea the year she turned seventeen, you know. She and her sister came to live with us. I'm sure you recall." Lord Dorring cleared his throat with a cough. "Or perhaps it escaped your notice. You were somewhat occupied with, uh, other matters at the time."

Other matters being a polite euphemism for finding himself helplessly ensnared in the coils of a beautiful witch named Elizabeth, Julian reflected. "If your granddaughter is such a paragon of all the sensible virtues, Dorring, what seems to be the problem with convincing her to accept my offer?"

"My fault entirely, her grandmother assures me." Lord Dorring's bushy brows drew together in an unhappy frown. "I fear I've allowed her to read a great deal. And all the wrong sort of thing, I'm told. But one doesn't tell Sophy what to read, you know. Can't imagine how any man could accomplish that. More claret, Ravenwood?"

"Thank you. I believe I could use another glass." Julian eyed his red-faced host and forced himself to speak calmly. "I confess I do not quite understand, Dorring. What have Sophy's reading habits got to do with anything?"

"Fear I haven't always kept a close watch on what she was reading," Lord Dorring muttered, gulping his claret. "Young women pick up notions, you know, if you don't keep a watch on what they read. But after the death of her sister three years ago, I didn't want to press Sophy too hard. Her grandmother and I are quite fond of her. She really is a reasonable girl. Can't think what's gotten into her head to refuse you. I'm sure she would change her mind if she just had a little more time."

"Time?" Ravenwood's brows rose with ill-concealed sarcasm.

"You must admit you've rushed things a trifle. Even my wife says that. We tend to go about this sort of thing more slowly out here in the country. Not used to town ways, you know. And women, even sensible women, have these damn romantic notions about how a man ought to go on." Lord Dorring eyed his guest with a hopeful air. "Perhaps if you could allow her a few more days to consider your offer?"

"I would like to talk to Miss Dorring, myself," Julian said.

"Thought I explained. Not in at the moment. Gone out riding. Visits Old Bess on Wednesdays."

"I am aware of that. She was informed that I would be calling at three, I assume."

Lord Dorring coughed again to clear his throat. "I, er, believe I mentioned it. Undoubtedly slipped her mind. You know how young women are." He glanced at the clock. "Should be back by half past four."

"Unfortunately, I cannot wait." Julian set down his glass and got to his feet. "You may inform your granddaughter that I am not a patient man. I had hoped to get this marriage business settled today."

"I believe she thinks it is settled, my lord," Lord Dorring said sadly.

"You may inform her that I do not consider the matter finished. I will call again tomorrow at the same time. I would greatly appreciate it, Dorring, if you would endeavor to remind her of the appointment. I intend to speak to her personally before this is all over."

"Certainly, by all means, Ravenwood, but I should warn you it ain't always easy to predict Sophy's comings and goings. As I said, she can be a bit willful at times."

"Then I expect you to exert a bit of willpower of your own. She's your granddaughter. If she needs the reins tightened, then, by all means, tighten them."

"Good God," Dorring muttered with great feeling. "Wish it were that easy."

Julian strode toward the door of the small, faded library and stepped out into the narrow, dark hall. The butler, dressed in a manner that blended perfectly with the air of shabby gentility that characterized the rest of the aging manor house, handed him his tall, flat-crowned beaver hat and gloves.

Julian nodded brusquely and brushed past the elderly retainer. The heels of his gleaming Hessians rang hollowly on the stone floor. He was already regretting the time it had taken to dress formally for the unproductive visit.

He'd even had one of the carriages brought around for the occasion. He might as well have ridden over to Chesley Court and saved the effort of trying to add a formal touch to the call. If he'd been on horseback he could have stopped off at one of the tenants' cottages on the way home and seen to some business. That way, at least, the entire afternoon would not have been wasted.

"The Abbey," he ordered as the carriage door was opened for him. The coachman, wearing the green-and-gold Ravenwood livery, touched his hat in acknowledgment of the command.

The beautifully matched team of grays leapt forward under the light flick of the whip an instant after the door was slammed shut. It was understood that the Earl of Ravenwood was not in a mood to dawdle along country roads this afternoon.

Julian leaned back against the cushions, thrust his booted feet out in front of him, folded his arms across his chest, and concentrated on controlling his impatience. It was not an easy task.

It had never occurred to him that his offer of marriage would be rejected. Miss Sophy Dorring did not stand a chance in hell of getting a better offer, and everyone involved knew it. Certainly her grandparents were vividly aware of that blunt fact.

Lord Dorring and his wife had nearly fainted when Julian had asked for their granddaughter's hand in marriage a few days ago. As far as they were concerned, Sophy quite past the age when it might have been possible to make such a suitable match. Julian's offer was a bolt from a truly benign providence.

Julian's mouth twisted sardonically as he considered the scene that had undoubtedly ensued when Sophy had informed her grandparents she was not interested in the marriage. Lord Dorring had obviously not known how to take charge of the situation and his lady had probably suffered a fit of the vapors. The granddaughter with the lamentable reading habits had easily emerged the victor.

The real question was why the silly chit had wanted to win the battle in the first place. By rights she should have leapt at Julian's offer along with everyone else. He was, after all, intending to install her at Ravenwood Abbey as the Countess of Ravenwood. A twenty-three-year-old country-bred miss with only passable looks and an extremely small inheritance could hardly aspire higher. Julian wondered briefly just what books Sophy had been reading and then dismissed the notion that her choice of reading material was the problem.

The problem was far more likely to be her grandfather's overly indulgent attitude toward his orphaned grandchild. Women were quick to take advantage of a weak-willed man.

Her age might also be a factor. Julian had considered her years an asset in the beginning. He'd already had one young, ungovernable wife and one was quite enough. He'd had sufficient scenes, tantrums, and hysterics from Elizabeth to last him a lifetime. He had assumed an older female would be more levelheaded and less demanding; more grateful, in fact.

It was not as if the girl had a great deal of choice out in the country, Julian reminded himself. She would not have all that much choice in town, for that matter. She definitely was not the type to attract the attention of the jaded males of the ton. Such men considered themselves connoisseurs of female flesh in much the same way they considered themselves experts on horseflesh, and they were not likely to look twice at Sophy.

She was not fashionably extreme in her coloring, being neither strikingly dark-haired nor angelically blond. He tawny brown curls were a pleasingly rich shade but they appeared to have a will of their own. Tendrils were always escaping from beneath her bonnets or straggling free from a painstakingly arranged coiffure.

She was no Grecian goddess, the look currently fashionable in London, but Julian admitted to himself that he had no quarrel with her slightly tilted nose, gently rounded chin, and warm smile. It would be no great task to get into bed with her frequently enough to ensure himself of an heir.

He was also willing to allow that Sophy had a fine pair of eyes. They were an interesting and unusual shade of turquoise flecked with gold. It was curious and rather satisfying to note that their owner had not the least idea of how to use them to flirt.

Instead of peeking up at a man through her lashes, Sophy had the disconcerting habit of looking straight at him. There was an open, forthright quality about her gaze that had convinced Julian that Sophy would have a great deal of difficulty pursuing the elegant art of lying. That fact suited him, too. Picking out the handful of truths buried amid Elizabeth's lies had nearly driven him insane.

Sophy was slender. The popular high-waisted gowns suited her figure but they tended to emphasize the rather small curves of her breasts. There was, however, a healthy, vibrant quality about her that Julian appreciated. He did not want a weakling. Frail women did not do well in childbirth.

Julian reviewed his mental image of the woman he intended to marry and realized that, while he had assessed her physical assets accurately, he had not, apparently, taken certain aspects of her personality into consideration. He had never guessed, for example, that beneath that sweet, demure facade, she had a streak of willful pride.

It must have been Sophy's pride that was getting in the way of a proper sense of gratitude. And her willfulness appeared more entrenched than expected. Her grandparents were obviously distraught and quite helpless against their granddaughter's unanticipated resistance. If the situation was to be salvaged, Julian decided, he would have to do it himself.

He made his decision as the carriage rocked to a halt in front of the two stately arms of the crab-pincer staircase that marked the imposing entrance to Ravenwood Abbey. He climbed out of the equipage, stalked up the stone steps, and began giving low-voiced orders as soon as the door was opened for him.

"Send a message to the stables, Jessup. I want the black saddled and ready in twenty minutes."

"Very good, my lord."

The butler turned to relay the message to a footman as Julian strode across the black-and-white marble-tiled hall and up the massive red-carpeted staircase.

Julian paid little attention to his grand surroundings. Although he had been raised there, he had cared little for Ravenwood Abbey since the early days of his marriage to Elizabeth. Once he had felt the same possessive pride toward the house as he did toward the fertile lands that surrounded it but now he only experienced a vague distaste toward his ancestral home. Every time he walked into a room he wondered if this was yet another chamber in which he had been cuckolded.

His land was quite a different matter. No woman could taint the good, rich fields of Ravenwood or his other estates. A man could count on the land. If he took care of it, he would be amply rewarded. To preserve the lands for future Earls of Ravenwood, Julian was willing to make the ultimate sacrifice: he would marry again.

He hoped the act of installing another wife there would scrub some of the lingering traces of Elizabeth out of the Abbey and most especially out of the oppressively lush, exotically sensuous bedchamber she had once made her own. Julian hated that room. He had not stepped foot in it since Elizabeth 's death.

One thing was for certain, he told himself as he climbed the stairs, he would not make the same mistakes with a new bride as he had made with his first. Never again would he play the part of a fly in a spider's web.

Fifteen minutes later Julian came back down the stairs dressed for riding. He was not surprised to find the black stallion he had named Angel ready and waiting. He had taken it for granted that the horse would be at the door when he was. Everyone in the household took care to anticipate the master of Ravenwood. No one in his right mind wanted to do anything that might invoke the devil's wrath. Julian went down the steps and vaulted into the saddle.

The groom stepped back quickly as the black tossed his head and danced for a few seconds. Powerful muscles shuddered under the glossy coat as Julian established control with a firm hand. Then he gave the signal and the animal surged forward eagerly.

It would not be hard to intercept Miss Sophy Dorring on her way home to Chesley Court, Julian decided. He knew every inch of his estate and he had a good idea of just where he would find her taking a shortcut across his land. She would undoubtedly use the path that circled the pond.

"He's like to kill himself on that horse someday," the footman remarked to the groom, who was his cousin.

The groom spit onto the cobbled surface of the courtyard. "His lordship won't make his exit from this life on a horse. Rides like the devil himself. How long's he going to stay here this time?"

"They're sayin' in the kitchens that he's here to find himself another bride. Got his eye on Lord Dorring's granddaughter. His lordship wants a quiet little country miss this time. One who won't give him any trouble."

"Can't blame him for that. I'd feel the same way if I'd been shackled to that wicked hellcat he picked last time."

"Maggie in the kitchen says that first wife of his was the witch who turned his lordship into a devil."

"Maggie's got the right of it. I tell ye, I feel sorry for Miss Dorring, though. She's a decent sort. Remember how she came by with those herbs o' hers this winter when Ma got that bad cough? Ma swears Miss Dorring saved her life."

"Miss Dorring'll be gettin' herself an Earl," the footman pointed out.

'That's as may be, but she'll pay a high price for the privilege of bein' the devil's lady."

Sophy sat on the wooden bench in front of Old Bess's cottage and carefully wrapped the last of the dried fenugreek in a small packet. She added it to the little bundle of herbs she had just finished selecting. Her supplies of such essentials as garlic, thistle, nightshade, and poppies in various forms had been growing low.

"That should do me for the next couple of months, Bess, she announced as she dusted off her hands and rose to her feet. She ignored the grass stain on the skirt of her old blue worsted riding habit.

"Ye be careful if ye need to make up a cup o' poppy-head tea for Lady Dorring's rheumatism," Bess cautioned. "The poppies came in real powerful this year."

Sophy nodded at the wrinkled old woman who had taught her so much. "I'll remember to cut back on my measurements. How is everything with you? Do you need anything?"

"Nary a thing, child, nary a thing." Bess surveyed her aging cottage and herb garden with a serene eye as she wiped her hands on her apron. "I have everythin' I need.

"You always do. You are lucky to be so content with life, Bess."

"Ye'll find contentment one o' these days, if ye truly seek it."

Sophy's smile faded. "Perhaps. But first I must seek other things."

Bess regarded her sorrowfully, her pale eyes full of understanding. "I thought ye'd gotten past yer need for vengeance, child. I thought ye'd finally left it in the past where it ought to be."

"Things have changed, Bess." Sophy started around the corner of the small, thatch-roofed cottage to where her gelding was waiting. "As it happens, I have been given a new opportunity to see that justice is done."

"If ye had any common sense, ye would take my advice and forget it, child. What's done is done. Yer sister, rest her soul, is gone. There's naught ye can do for her now. Ye have yer own life and ye must pay attention to it." Bess smiled her gap-toothed smile. "I hear there be a somewhat more pressin' matter for ye to consider these days."

Sophy glanced sharply at the elderly woman while she made a useless attempt to straighten her precariously tilted riding hat. "As usual, you manage to keep up with the village gossip. You've heard I received an offer of marriage from the devil himself?"

"The folks who call Lord Ravenwood a devil are the ones who deal in gossip. I deal only in facts. Is it true?"

"What? That the Earl is closely related to Lucifer? Yes, Bess, I am almost certain it is true. I have never before met such an arrogant man as his lordship. That sort of pride definitely belongs to the devil."

Bess shook her head impatiently. "I meant is it true he's offered for ye?"

"Yes."

"Well? When do ye be about givin' him yer answer, pray tell?"

Sophy shrugged, abandoning the effort to adjust her hat. Hats always had their way with her. "Grandfather is giving him an answer this afternoon. The Earl sent a message that he would be calling at three today to receive it."

Bess came to an abrupt halt on the stone path. Gray curls bobbed beneath her yellowed muslin cap. Her lined face crinkled in astonishment. "This afternoon? And here ye be choosin' herbs from my stock as if it were any normal day of the week? What nonsense is this, child? Ye should be at Chesley Court at this very moment and dressed in yer best clothes."

"Why? Grandfather does not need me there. He is perfectly capable of telling the devil to go to hell."

"Tellin' the devil to go to hell! Sophy, child, are ye sayin' ye told yer grandfather to turn down the Earl's offer?"

Sophy smiled grimly as she came to a halt beside the chestnut gelding. "You have it exactly right, Bess." She stuffed the little packets of herbs into the pockets of her habit.

"Nonsense," Bess exclaimed. "I can't believe Lord Dorring is so muddle-brained as this. He knows you'll never get another offer this good if ye live to be a hundred."

"I'm not so certain of that," Sophy said dryly. "It depends, of course, on your definition of a good offer."

Bess's gaze narrowed thoughtfully. "Child, are ye doin' this because yer afraid of the Earl? Is that what's wrong? I thought ye were too sensible to believe all the stories they tell down in the village."

"I do not believe them all," Sophy said as she swung herself into the saddle. "Only about half. Does that console you, Bess?" Sophy adjusted the skirts of her habit under her legs. She rode astride, although it was not considered quite proper for a woman of her station to do so. In the country, however, people were more casual about such matters. In any event Sophy was convinced her modesty was well protected. With her habit carefully arranged this way only her tan half-boots showed beneath the skirts.

Bess caught hold of the horse's bridle and peered up at Sophy. "Here now, girl. Ye don't truly believe that tale they tell about his lordship drownin' his first wife in Ravenwood Pond, do ye?"

Sophy sighed. "No, Bess, I do not." It would have been more accurate to say she did not want to believe it.

"Thank the lord, although it be God's truth there ain't none around here who'd have blamed the man if he had killed her," Bess admitted.

"True enough, Bess."

"Then what's all this nonsense about ye refusin' his lordship's offer? I don't care for the look in yer eyes, child. I've seen it before and it don't bode well. What are ye up to now?"

"Now? Why, now I am going to ride old Dancer here back to Chesley Court and then I am going to set about storing these herbs you have so kindly given me. Grandfather's gout is acting up again and I have run out of his favorite decoction."

"Sophy, darlin', are ye truly goin' to refuse the Earl?"

"No," Sophy said honestly. "So you need not look so horrified. In the end, if he persists, he shall have me. But it will be on my terms."

Bess's eyes widened. "Ah, now I believe I take yer meanin'. Ye've been readin' those books on the rights o' women again, haven't ye? Don't be a fool, child. Take some advice from an old woman. Don't be about playin' any of yer games with Ravenwood. He's not likely to indulge them. Ye might be able to lead Lord Dorring around by a piece of string, but the Earl's a different sort o' man, altogether."

"I agree with you on that point, Bess. The Earl is a vastly different sort of man than Grandfather. But try not to worry about me. I know what I am doing." Sophy collected the reins and gave Dancer a nudge with her heel.

"Nay, child, I'm not so sure o' that, Bess called after her. "Ye don't tease the devil and expect to come away unharmed."

"I thought you said Ravenwood was not a devil," Sophy retorted over her shoulder as Dancer broke into a lumbering trot.

She waved at Bess as the horse headed into a stand of trees. There was no need to guide Dancer back toward Chesley Court. He had made the trip so often during the past few years that he knew the route over Ravenwood lands by heart.

Sophy let the reins rest lightly on Dancer's neck as she considered the scene she would undoubtedly discover when she got back to Chesley Court.

Her grandparents would be distraught, of course. Lady Dorring had taken to her bed this morning, an array of fortifying salts and tonics arranged nearby. Lord Dorring, who had been left to face Ravenwood alone, would probably be consoling himself with a bottle of claret by now. The small house staff would be quietly morose. A suitable connection for Sophy would have been in their best interests as well as everyone else's. Without a respectable marriage settlement to fill the family coffers there was little hope of a pension for aging servants.

No one in the household could be expected to understand Sophy's staunch refusal of Ravenwood's offer. Rumors, gossip, and grim tales aside, the man was, after all, an Earl—a wealthy and powerful one at that. He owned most of the surrounding neighborhood there in Hampshire as well as two other smaller estates in neighboring counties. He also had an elegant house in London.

As far as the local people were concerned, Ravenwood ran his lands well and was fair with his tenants and servants. That was all that truly mattered in the country. Those who were dependent on the Earl and who were careful not to cross him enjoyed a comfortable living.

Ravenwood had his faults, everyone agreed, but he took care of the land and the people on it. He may have murdered his wife but he had refrained from doing anything truly heinous such as throwing away his entire inheritance in a London gaming hell.

The local people could afford to be charitable toward Ravenwood , Sophy thought. They were not faced with the prospect of marriage to him.

Sophy's glance was drawn, as it always was on this path, to the dark, cold waters of Ravenwood Pond as it came into sight through the trees. Here and there small crusts of ice dotted the surface of the deep pool. There was little snow left on the ground but the chill of winter was still very much in the air. Sophy shivered and Dancer nickered inquiringly.

Sophy leaned forward to pat the horse's neck reassuringly but her hand froze abruptly in midair. An icy breeze rustled the branches overhead. Sophy shivered again, but this time she knew it was not the chill of the early spring afternoon that was affecting her. She straightened in the saddle as she caught sight of the man on the midnight black stallion coming toward her through a grove of bare trees. Her pulse quickened as it always did in Ravenwood's presence.

Belatedly Sophy told herself she ought to have immediately recognized the little frisson of awareness that had gone through her a moment earlier. After all, a part of her had been in love with this man since she was eighteen.

That was the year she had first been introduced to the

Earl of Ravenwood. He, of course, probably did not even remember the occasion. He'd had eyes only for his beautiful, mesmerizing, witchy Elizabeth.

Sophy knew that her initial feelings for the wealthy Earl of Ravenwood had no doubt begun as little more than a young woman's natural infatuation with the first man who had captured her imagination. But that infatuation had not died a natural death, not even when she had accepted the obvious fact that she stood no chance of gaining his attention. Over the years infatuation had matured into something deeper and more abiding.

Sophy had been drawn to the quiet power and the innate pride and integrity she sensed in Ravenwood. In the realm of her most secret dreams she thought of him as noble in a way that had nothing to do with his inherited title.

When the dazzling Elizabeth had succeeded in turning the fascination Ravenwood felt for her into raw pain and savage rage, Sophy had wanted to offer comfort and understanding. But the Earl had been beyond either. He had sought his solace for a time on the Continent waging war under Wellington.

When he had returned, it was obvious that the Earl's emotions had long since retreated to a cold, distant place somewhere inside himself. Now any passion or warmth Ravenwood was capable of feeling appeared to be reserved for his land.

The black suited him well, Sophy decided. She had heard the stallion was called Angel, and she found herself marveling at Ravenwood's sense of irony.

Angel was a creature of darkness meant for a man who lived in shadows. The man who rode him seemed almost a part of the animal. Ravenwood was lean and powerfully built. He was endowed with unfashionably large, strong hands, hands that could easily have strangled an errant wife, just as the villagers said, Sophy reflected briefly.

He needed no padding in his coat to emphasize the breadth of his shoulders. The snug-fitting riding breeches clung to well-shaped, strongly muscled thighs.

But although he wore his clothes well, Sophy knew there was nothing the finest tailor in London could have done to alleviate the uncompromising grimness of Ravenwood's harsh features.

His hair was as black as his stallion's silky coat and his eyes were a deep, gleaming green, a demon green, Sophy had sometimes thought. It was said the Earls of Ravenwood were always born with eyes to match the family emeralds.

Sophy found Ravenwood's gaze disconcerting not only because of the color of his eyes but because he had a way of looking at a person as if he were mentally putting a price on that poor unfortunate's soul. Sophy wondered what his lordship would do when he learned her price.

She reined in Dancer, pushed the plume of her riding hat out of her eyes and summoned up what she hoped was a serenely gracious smile.

"Good afternoon, my lord. What a surprise to encounter you in the middle of the woods."

The black stallion was brought to a shuddering halt a few feet away. Ravenwood sat quietly for a moment, regarding Sophy's polite little smile. He did not respond in kind.

"What, precisely, do you find surprising about this encounter, Miss Dorring? This is, after all, my land. I knew you had gone to visit Old Bess and guessed that you would be returning to Chesley Court along this route."

"How clever of you, my lord. An example of deductive logic, perhaps? I am a great admirer of that sort of reasoning."

"You were well aware that we had business to conclude today. If you are as intelligent as your grandparents appear to believe, you must also have known I wanted that business settled this afternoon. No, on the whole I cannot accept that there is any surprise in this meeting at all. In fact, I would almost be willing to wager that it was deliberately planned."

Sophy's fingers clenched on the reins as the soft words burned into her. Dancer's ears flicked in mild protest and she instantly relaxed her convulsive grip. Bess was right. Ravenwood was not a man who could be easily led about with a piece of string. Sophy knew she would have to be extraordinarily cautious.

"I was under the impression that my grandfather was conducting my business on my behalf, as is proper," Sophy said. "Did he not give you my answer to your offer?"

"He did." Ravenwood allowed his high-strung stallion to take a few prancing steps closer to Dancer. "I chose not to accept it until I discussed the matter with you, personally."

"Surely, my lord, that is not entirely correct. Or is that the manner in which such things are handled in London these days?"

"It's the manner in which I wish to handle them with you. You are not a missish little twit, Miss Dorring. Pray do not act like one. You can answer for yourself. Tell me what the problem is and I will endeavor to see if it can be resolved."

"Problem, my lord?"

His eyes took on a darker shade of green. "I would advise you not to toy with me, Miss Dorring. I am not given to indulging women who try to make a fool of me."

"I understand completely, my lord. And surely you can comprehend my reluctance to tie myself to a man who is not given to indulging women in general, much less those who try to make a fool of him."

Ravenwood's eyes narrowed. "Kindly explain yourself."

Sophy managed a faint shrug. Her hat tipped a bit farther forward under the small movement. Automatically she reached up again to push aside the bobbing plume.

"Very well, my lord, you force me to speak plainly. I do not believe you and I share a similar understanding of how a marriage between us could be made to work. I have tried to talk to you privately on the three occasions you have called at Chesley Court during the past two weeks, but you seemed totally uninterested in discussing matters with me. You treated the whole business as if you were buying a new horse for your stables. I admit I was forced to resort to drastic tactics today in order to get your attention."

Ravenwood stared at her with cold irritation. "So I was right in thinking you are not surprised to encounter me here. Very well, you have my complete attention, Miss Dorring. What is there you wish me to comprehend? It all seems very straightforward to me."

"I know what you want from me," Sophy said. "It is quite obvious. But I do not believe you have the least notion of what I want from you. Until you do comprehend that and agree to my wishes in the matter, there is no possibility of our marrying."

"Perhaps we ought to take this step by step," Ravenwood said. "What is it you think I want from you?"

"An heir and no trouble."

Ravenwood blinked with a deceptive laziness. His hard mouth curved faintly. "Succinctly put."

"And accurate?"

"Very," he said dryly. "It is no secret that I wish to set up my nursery. Ravenwood has been in my family's hands for three generations. I do not intend for it to be lost in this generation."

"In other words, you see me as a brood mare."

Saddle leather creaked as Ravenwood studied her in ominous silence for a long moment. "I fear your grandfather was right," he finally said. "Your reading habits have instilled a certain lack of delicacy in your manner, Miss Dorring."

"Oh, I can be far more indelicate than that, my lord. For instance, I understand you keep a mistress in London."

"Where the devil did you hear that? Not from Lord Dorring, I'll wager."

"It is common talk here in the countryside."

"And you listen to the tales told by villagers who have never been more than a few miles from their homes?" he scoffed.

"Are the tales told by city folk any different?"

"I begin to believe you are being deliberately insulting, Miss Dorring."

"No, my lord. Merely very cautious."

"Obstinate, not cautious. Use what little wit you have to pay attention. If there was anything truly objectionable about me or my behavior do you think your grandparents would have approved my offer of marriage?"

"If the marriage settlement you are proposing is large enough, yes."

Ravenwood smiled faintly at that. "You may be correct."

Sophy hesitated. "Are you telling me the tales I have heard are all false?"

Ravenwood eyed her thoughtfully. "What else have you heard?"

Sophy had not expected this odd conversation to get so specific. "You mean besides the fact that you keep a mistress?"

"If the rest of the gossip is as silly as that bit, you should be ashamed of yourself, Miss Dorring."

"Alas, I fear I do not possess such a refined sense of shame, my lord. A regrettable failing, to be sure and one you should probably take into consideration. Gossip can be vastly entertaining, and I confess I am not above listening to it on occasion."

The Earl's mouth tightened. "A regrettable failing, indeed. What else have you heard?" he repeated.

"Well, in addition to the tidbit about your mistress, it is said you fought a duel once."

"You cannot expect me to confirm such nonsense."

"I have also heard that you banished your last wife to the country because she failed to give you an heir," Sophy continued rashly.

"I do not discuss my first wife with anyone." Ravenwood's expression was suddenly forbidding. "If we are to get on together, Miss Dorring, you would be well advised never to mention her again."

Sophy flushed. "I apologize, my lord. It is not her I am trying to discuss, rather your habit of leaving your wives in the country."

"What the devil are you talking about?"

It took more courage than Sophy had anticipated to continue on in the face of that awful tone. "I think I should make it perfectly clear that I do not intend to be left behind here at Ravenwood or one of your other estates while you spend your time in London, my lord."

He frowned. "I was under the impression you were happy here."

"It is true I enjoy rural living and in general am quite content here, but I do not want to be restricted to Ravenwood Abbey. I have spent most of my life in the country, my lord. I wish to see London again."

"Again? I was given to understand that you did not enjoy yourself during your one season in town, Miss Dorring."

Her embarrassed eyes slid away from his for a moment. "I am sure you are well aware that I was a spectacular failure when I was brought out. I did not attract a single offer that season."

"I begin to see why you failed so miserably, Miss Dorring," Ravenwood said heartlessly. "If you were as blunt with all of your admirers then as you are today with me, you undoubtedly terrified them."

"Am I succeeding in terrifying you, my lord?"

"I assure you, I am beginning to shiver in my boots."

Sophy almost smiled in spite of herself. "You hide your fear well, my lord." She saw a momentary gleam in Ravenwood's eyes and quickly squelched her wayward sense of humor.

"Let us continue this forthright conversation, Miss Dorring. I am to understand that you do not wish to spend all your time here at Ravenwood. Is there anything else on your list of demands?"

Sophy held her breath. This was the dangerous part. "I do have some other demands, my lord."

He sighed. "Let me hear them."

"You have made it clear your chief interest in this marriage is securing an heir."

"This may come as a surprise to you, Miss Dorring, but that is considered a legitimate and acceptable reason for a man to desire marriage."

"I understand," she said. "Rut I am not ready to be rushed into childbed, my lord."

"Not ready? I have been told you are twenty-three years old. As far as society is concerned, my dear, you are more than ready."

"I am aware that I am considered to be on the shelf, my lord. You need not point the fact out to me. But oddly enough, I do not consider myself in my dotage. And neither do you or you would not be asking me to become your wife."

Ravenwood smiled fleetingly, showing a glimpse of strong, white teeth. "I will admit that when one is thirty-four, twenty-three does not seem so very old. But you appear quite fit and healthy, Miss Dorring. I think you will withstand the rigors of childbirth very well."

"I had no idea you were such an expert."

"We stray from the subject again. Just what is it you are trying to say, Miss Dorring?"

She gathered herself. "I am saying that I will not agree to marriage with you unless you give me your word you will not force yourself upon me until I give you my permission."

She felt the heat flow into her cheeks under Ravenwood's startled gaze. Her hands trembled on Dancers reins and the old horse moved restlessly. Another gust of wind whipped the tree branches and sliced through the fabric of Sophy's riding habit.

A cold rage leaped to life in Julian's green eyes. "I give you my word of honor, Miss Dorring, that I have never forced myself upon a woman in my life. But we are speaking of marriage and I cannot believe you are unaware that matrimony implies certain duties and obligations on the part of both husband and wife."

Sophy nodded quickly and her small hat tipped precariously over her eye. This time she ignored the plume. "I am also aware, my lord, that most men would not consider it wrong to insist on their rights, whether or not the women were willing. Are you one of those men?"

"You cannot expect me to enter into marriage knowing my wife was not prepared to grant me my rights as a husband," Ravenwood said between clenched teeth.

"I did not say I would never be prepared to grant you your rights. I am merely asking that I be given ample time to get to know you and to adjust to the situation."

"You are not asking, Miss Dorring, you are demanding. Is this a result of your reprehensible reading habits?"

"My grandfather warned you about those, I see."

"He did. I can guarantee that I will personally assume the responsibility of overseeing your choice of reading material after we are wed, Miss Dorring."

"That, of course, brings me to my third demand. I must be allowed to buy and read whatever books and tracts I wish."

The black tossed his head as Ravenwood swore under his breath. The stallion steadied as his master exerted expert pressure on the reins. "Let me be quite certain I have got your demands clear," Ravenwood said in a voice that was heavily laced with sarcasm. "You will not be banished to the country, you will not share my bed until it pleases you, and you will read whatever you wish to read in spite of my advice or recommendations to the contrary."

Sophy drew a breath. "I believe that sums up my list of demands, my lord."

"You expect me to agree to such an outrageous list?"

"Highly doubtful, my lord, which is precisely why I asked my grandfather to refuse your offer this afternoon. I thought it would save us all a great deal of time."

"Forgive me, Miss Dorring, but I believe I understand perfectly why you have never married. No sane man would agree to such a ridiculous list of demands. Can it be you genuinely wish to avoid matrimony altogether?"

"I am certainly in no rush to plunge into the wedded state."

"Obviously."

"I would say we have something in common, my lord," Sophy said with great daring. "I am under the impression you wish to marry solely out of a sense of duty. Is it so very hard for you to comprehend that I might not see any great advantage in marriage, either?"

"You seem to be overlooking the advantage of my money."

Sophy glared at him. "That is, naturally, a strong inducement. It is, however, one which I can be persuaded to overlook. I may never be able to afford diamond-studded dancing slippers on the limited income left me by my father, but I shall be able to get by in reasonable comfort. And, more importantly, I will be able to spend that income exactly as I wish. If I marry, I lose that advantage."

"Why don't you simply add to your list of demands that you will not be guided by your husband in matters of economy and finance, Miss Dorring?"

"An excellent idea, my lord. I believe I will do exactly that. Thank you for pointing out the obvious solution to my dilemma."

"Unfortunately, even if you find a male who is sufficiently lacking in reason as to grant you all of your wishes, you will have no legal way of guaranteeing that your husband abides by his word after the marriage, will you?"

Sophy glanced down at her hands, knowing he was right. "No, my lord. I would be entirely dependent on my husband's sense of honor."

"Be warned, Miss Dorring," Ravenwood said with soft menace, "A man's sense of honor might be inviolate when it comes to his gaming debts or his reputation as a sportsman but it means little when it comes to dealing with a woman."

Sophy went cold. "Then I do not have much choice, do I? If that is so, I will never be able to take the risk of marriage."

"You are wrong, Miss Dorring. You have already made your choice and now you must take your chances. You have said that you would be willing to marry me if I met your demands. Very well, I will agree to your requirements."

Sophy stared at him openmouthedly. Her heart raced. "You will?"

"The bargain is made." Ravenwood's big hands shifted slightly on the stallion's reins and the horse lifted his head alertly. "We will be married as soon as possible. Your grandfather is expecting me tomorrow at three. Tell him I wish to make all the arrangements at that time. Since you and I have succeeded in arriving at a private agreement, I will expect you to have the courage to be at home tomorrow when I call."

Sophy was dumbfounded. "My lord, I do not fully comprehend you. Are you quite certain you wish to marry me on my terms?"

Ravenwood smiled unpleasantly. His emerald eyes gleamed with harsh amusement. "The real question, Sophy, is how long you will be able to maintain your demands once you are confronted with the reality of being my wife."

"My lord, your word of honor," Sophy said anxiously. "I must insist upon it."

"If you were a man, I would call you out for even questioning it. You have my word, Miss Dorring."

"Thank you, my lord. You truly do not mind that I will spend my money as I wish?"

"Sophy, the quarterly allowance I will provide you will be considerably larger than your entire yearly income," Ravenwood said bluntly. "As long as you pay your bills out of what I allot you, I will not question your expenditures."

"Oh. I see. And… and my books?"

"I think I can handle whatever harebrained notions your books put into your head. I shall undoubtedly be annoyed from time to time but perhaps that will give us a basis for some interesting discussions, hm? God knows most women's conversations are enough to bore a man silly."

"I shall endeavor not to bore you, my lord. But let us be certain we understand each other perfectly. You won't try to keep me buried in the country all year long?"

"I'll allow you to accompany me to London when it's convenient, if that's truly what you want."

"You are too kind, my lord. And my… my other demand?

"Ah, yes. My guarantee not to, er, force myself upon you. I think we shall have to put a time limit on that one. After all, my main goal in all this is to obtain an heir."

Sophy was instantly uneasy. "A time limit?"

"How much time do you think you will require to grow accustomed to the sight of me?"

"Six months?" she hazarded.

"Don't be a goose, Miss Dorring. I have no intention of waiting six months to claim my rights."

"Three months?"

He looked about to deny this counteroffer but appeared to change his mind at the last minute. "Very well. Three months. You see how indulgent I am?"

"I am overwhelmed by your generosity, my lord."

"And so you should be. I defy you to find another man who would grant you such a length of time before insisting that you fulfill your wifely duties."

"You are quite right, my lord. I doubt if I could find another man who would be as agreeable as you seem inclined to be in the matter of marriage. Forgive me, but my curiosity overcomes me. Why are you being so agreeable?"

"Because, my dear Miss Dorring, in the end I shall have exactly what I want out of this marriage. Good day, to you. I will see you tomorrow at three."

Angel responded instantly to the sudden pressure of Ravenwood's thighs. The black swung around in a tight circle and cantered off through the trees.

Sophy sat where she was until Dancer lowered his head to sample a mouthful of grass. The horse's movement brought her back to her senses.

"Home, Dancer. I am sure my grandparents will be either in hysterics or a state of complete despair by now. The least I can do is inform them that I have salvaged the situation."

But an old adage flitted through her mind as she rode back to Chesley Court—something about those who would sit down to dine with the devil being advised to bring a long spoon.