Seduction by Amanda Quick

  “Yes, Grandmother. But has it escaped your notice that unseemly conversations are always the most interesting?”

  “Not another word out of you, my girl. And the same goes for you, Theo.”

  “Yes, m’dear.”

  “I do not know,” Lady Dorring informed them ominously, “if your conclusions regarding Lord Ravenwood’s motives are accurate or not, but I do know that on one point, he and I are agreed. You, Sophy, should be extremely grateful to the Earl.”

  “I did once have occasion to be grateful to his lordship,” Sophy said wistfully. “That was the time he very gallantly stood up with me at one of the balls I attended during my season. I remember the event well. It was the only time I danced all evening. I doubt he even remembers. He kept looking over my shoulder the whole time to see who was dancing with his precious Elizabeth.”

  “Don’t fret yourself about the first Lady Ravenwood. She’s gone and no loss,” Lord Dorring said with his usual straightforward attitude in such matters. “Take my advice, young lady. Refrain from provoking Ravenwood and you’ll get on quite well with him. Don’t expect more from him than is reasonable and he’ll be a good husband to you. The man looks after his land and he’ll look after his wife. He takes care of his own.”

  Her grandfather was undoubtedly right, Sophy decided later that night as she lay awake in bed. She was reasonably certain that if she refrained from provoking him excessively, Ravenwood would probably be no worse than most husbands. In any event, she was not likely to see much of him. During the course of her single season in town she had learned that husbands and wives of the ton tended to live separate lives.

  That would be to her advantage she told herself stoutly. She had interests of her own to pursue. As Ravenwood’s wife she would have time and opportunity to make her investigations on behalf of poor Amelia. One day, Sophy vowed, she would succeed in tracking down the man who had seduced and abandoned her sister.

  During the past three years Sophy had managed to follow Old Bess’s advice for the most part and put her sister’s death behind her. Her initial rage had slowly settled into a bleak acceptance. After all, trapped in the country, there was little hope of finding and confronting the unknown man responsible.

  But things would be different if she married the Earl.

  Restlessly Sophy pushed back the covers and climbed out of bed. She padded barefoot across the threadbare carpet and opened the small jewelry case that sat on the dressing table. It was easy to reach inside and find the black metal ring without the aid of a candle. She had handled it often enough to recognize it by touch. Her fingers closed around it.

  The ring lay cold and hard in her hand as she drew it out of the case. Against her palm she could feel the impression of the strange triangular design embossed on its surface.

  Sophy hated the ring. She had found it clutched in her sister’s hand the night Amelia had taken the overdose of laudanum. Sophy had known then that the black ring belonged to the man who had seduced her beautiful fair-haired sister and gotten her with child—the lover Amelia had refused to name. One of the few things Sophy had deduced for certain was that the man had been one of Lady Ravenwood’s lovers.

  The other thing of which Sophy was almost certain was that her sister and the unknown man had used the ruins of an old Norman castle on Ravenwood land for their secret rendezvous. Sophy had been fond of sketching the ancient pile of stone until she had found one of Amelia’s handkerchiefs there. She had discovered it a few weeks after her sister’s death. After that fateful day, Sophy had never returned to the scenic ruin.

  What better way to find out the identity of the man who had caused Amelia to kill herself than to become the new Lady Ravenwood?

  Sophy’s hand clenched around the ring for a moment and then she dropped it back into the jewelry chest. It was just as well she had a rational, sensible, realistic reason for marrying the Earl of Ravenwood because her other reason for marrying him was likely to prove a wild, fruitless quest.

  For she intended to try to teach the devil to love again.

  Julian sprawled with negligent grace in the well-sprung traveling coach and regarded his new Countess with a critical eye. He had seen very little of Sophy during the past few weeks. He had told himself there had been no need to make an excessive number of trips from London to Hampshire. He had business to attend to in town. Now he took the opportunity to scrutinize more closely the woman he had chosen to provide him with an heir.

  He regarded his bride, who had been a countess for only a few hours with some surprise. As usual, however, there was a certain chaotic look about her person. Several ringlets of tawny brown hair had escaped the confines of her new straw bonnet. A feather on the bonnet was sticking out at an odd angle. Julian looked closer and saw that the shaft had been broken. His gaze slipped downward and he discovered a small piece of ribbon trim on Sophy’s reticule was loose.

  The hem of her traveling dress had a grass stain on it. He thought Sophy had undoubtedly accomplished that feat when she had bent down to receive the fistful of flowers from a rather grubby little farm lad. Everyone in the village had turned out to wave farewell to Sophy as she had prepared to step into the traveling coach. Julian had not realized his wife was such a popular figure in the local neighborhood.

  He was vastly relieved his new bride had made no complaint when he had informed her that he intended a working honeymoon. He had recently acquired a new estate in Norfolk and the obligatory month-long wedding trip was the perfect opportunity to examine his newest holdings.

  He was also obliged to admit Lady Dorring had done a creditable job orchestrating the wedding. Most of the gentry in the surrounding countryside had been invited. Julian had not bothered to invite any of his acquaintances from London, however. The thought of going through a second wedding ceremony in front of the same sea of faces that had been present as the first debacle was more than he could stomach.

  When the announcement of his forthcoming marriage had appeared in the Morning Post he had been plagued with questions, but he had handled most of the impertinent inquiries the way he usually handled such annoyances: he had ignored them.

  With one or two exceptions, his policy had worked. His mouth tightened now as he recalled one of the exceptions. A certain lady in Trevor Square had not been particularly pleased to learn of Julian’s marriage. But Marianne Harwood had been too shrewd and too pragmatic to make more than a small scene. There were other fish in the sea. The earrings Julian had left behind on the occasion of that last visit had gone a long way toward soothing the ruffled features of La Belle Harwood.

  “Is something wrong, my lord?” Sophy calmly broke into Julian’s reverie.

  Julian jerked his thoughts back to the present. “Not in the least. I was merely recalling a small business matter I had to attend to last week.”

  “It must have been a very unpleasant business matter. You appeared quite provoked. I thought for a moment you might have eaten a bad bit of meat pie.”

  Julian smiled faintly. “The incident was the sort that tends to interfere with a man’s digestion but I assure you I am in excellent condition now.”

  “I see.” Sophy stared at him with her astonishingly level gaze for a moment longer, nodded to herself and turned back to the window.

  Julian scowled. “Now it’s my turn to ask you if something is wrong, Sophy.”

  “Not in the least.”

  Arms folded across his chest, Julian contemplated the tassels on his polished Hessians for a few seconds before he glanced up with a quizzical gleam in his eye. “I think it would be best if we came to an understanding about one or two small matters, Madam Wife.”

  She glanced at him. “Yes, my lord?”

  “A few weeks ago you gave me your list of demands.”

  She frowned. “True, my lord.”

  “At the time I was busy and neglected to make up a list of my own.”

  “I already know your demands, my lord. You want an heir and no trouble.”
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  “I would like to take this opportunity to be a bit more precise.”

  “You wish to add to your list? That’s hardly fair, is it?”

  “I did not say I was adding to the list, merely clarifying it.” Julian paused. He saw the wariness in her turquoise eyes and smiled slightly. “Don’t look so worried, my dear. The first item on my list, an heir, is plain enough. It’s the second item I wish to clarify.”

  “No trouble. It seems simple enough.”

  “It will be once you understand exactly what I mean by it.”

  “For example?”

  “For example, it will save us both a great deal of trouble if you make it a policy never to lie to me.”

  Her eyes widened. “I have no intention of doing any such thing, my lord.”

  “Excellent. Because you should know you would not be able to get away with it. There is something about your eyes, Sophy, that would betray you every time. And I would be most annoyed if I should detect a lie in your eyes. You understand me perfectly?”

  “Perfectly, my lord.”

  “Then let us return to my earlier question. I believe I asked you if anything was wrong and you stated that there was nothing wrong. Your eyes say otherwise, my dear.”

  She toyed with the loose ribbon on her reticule. “Am I to have no privacy for my thoughts, my lord?”

  He scowled. “Were your thoughts so very private at that moment that you felt obliged to conceal them from your husband?”

  “No,” she said simply. “I merely assumed you would not be pleased if I spoke them aloud so I kept them to myself.”

  He had set out to make a point but now Julian found himself swamped with curiosity. “I would like to hear them, if you please.”

  “Very well, I was engaging in a bit of deductive logic, my lord. You had just admitted that the business matters you had attended to prior to our marriage had been most provoking and I was hazarding a guess as to what sort of business matter you meant.”

  “And to what conclusion did your deductive logic lead you?”

  “To the conclusion you had undoubtedly had some difficulty when you had informed your current mistress that you were getting married. One had hardly blame the poor woman. She has, after all, been doing all the work of a wife and now you announce you intend to give the title to another applicant for the post. A rather unskilled applicant, at that. I expect she enacted you a grand tragedy and that was what provoked you. Tell me, is she an actress or a ballet dancer?”

  Julian’s first impulse was an absurd desire to laugh. He quelled it instantly in the interests of husbandly discipline. “You overstep yourself, madam,” he said through his teeth.

  “You are the one who demanded I tell you all my private thoughts.” The loose feather in her bonnet bobbed. “Will you agree now that there are times when I should be allowed some privacy?”

  “You should not be speculating about such things in the first place.”

  “I am quite certain you are right but unfortunately I have very little control over my inner speculations.”

  “Perhaps you can be taught some measure of control,” Julian suggested.

  “I doubt it.” She smiled at him suddenly and the warmth of that smile made Julian blink. “Tell me,” Sophy continued impishly, “was my guess accurate?”

  “The business I attended to before leaving London last week is none of your affair.”

  “Ah, I see the way of it now. I am to have no privacy for my speculations but you are to have all the solitude you wish for your own. That hardly seems fair, my lord. In any event, if my errant thoughts are going to upset you so much, don’t you think it would be better if I kept them to myself?”

  Julian leaned forward without any warning and caught her chin in his fingers. It occurred to him that her skin was very soft. “Are you teasing me, Sophy?”

  She made no move to pull free of his hand. “I confess I am, my lord. You are so magnificently arrogant, you see, that the temptation is sometimes irresistible.”

  “I understand irresistible temptation,” he told her. “I am about to be overcome by it, myself.”

  Julian eased over onto the seat beside her and wrapped his hands around her small waist. He lifted her onto his thighs with one smooth motion and watched with cool satisfaction as her eyes widened in alarm.

  “Ravenwood,” she gasped.

  “That brings me to another matter on my list of clarified demands,” he murmured. “I think that when I am about to kiss you, I would like you to use my given name. You may call me Julian.” He was suddenly very conscious of her firm, rounded little bottom pressing against him. The folds of her skirt clung to his breeches.

  She steadied herself with her hands on his shoulders. “Need I remind you so soon that you gave me your word of honor you would not … would not force yourself on me?”

  She was trembling. He could feel the small shivers going through her and it annoyed him. “Don’t be an idiot, Sophy. I have no intention of forcing myself on you, as you call it. I am merely going to kiss you. There was nothing in our bargain about kissing.”

  “My lord, you promised—”

  He wrapped one hand around her nape and held her carefully still while he covered her mouth with his own. Her lips parted on more words of protest just as he made contact. The result was that the kiss began on a far more intimate level than Julian had planned. He could taste the damp warmth of her instantly and it sent an unexpected flare of desire through him. The inside of her mouth was soft and wet and faintly spicy.

  Sophy flinched and then moaned softly as his hands tightened on her. She started to pull away but when he refused to allow the small retreat she went quiet in his arms.

  Sensing her cautious acquiescence, Julian took his time and gently deepened the kiss. Lord, she felt good. He had not realized she would be so sweet, so warm. There was enough feminine strength in her to make him vividly aware of his own superior strength and that realization had a startlingly arousing effect on him. He felt himself growing hard almost at once.

  “Now say my name,” he ordered softly against her mouth.

  “Julian.” The single word was shaky but audible.

  He stroked his palm down her arm and nuzzled her throat. “Again.”

  “J—Julian. Please stop. This has gone far enough. You gave me your word.”

  “Am I forcing myself on you?” he asked whimsically, dropping the lightest of kisses just below her ear. His hand slid down her arm to rest intimately on the curve of her knee. Julian suddenly wanted nothing more than to ease her thighs apart and explore Sophy far more thoroughly. If the heat and honey between her legs were anything like that promised by her mouth, he would be well satisfied with his choice of wife. “Tell me, Sophy, do you call this force?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Julian laughed softly. She sounded so wretchedly unsure. “Allow me to tell you that this is not what is meant by the expression forcing myself on you.”

  “What is it, then?”

  “I am making love to you. It’s perfectly permissible between husband and wife, you know.”

  “You are not making love to me,” she countered very seriously.

  Startled, Julian raised his head to meet her eyes. “I’m not?”

  “Of course not. How could you be making love to me? You do not love me.”

  “Call it seduction, then,” he retorted. “A man has a right to seduce his own wife, surely. I gave you my word not to force myself on you but I never promised not to attempt to seduce you.” There would be no need to honor the stupid agreement, he thought with satisfaction. She showed every sign of responding to him already.

  Sophy leaned away from him, a deep anger lighting her turquoise eyes. “As far as I am concerned, seduction is but another form of forcing yourself on a woman. It is a man’s way of concealing the truth of his motives.”

  Julian was stunned at the vehemence in her voice. “You have had experience of it, then?” he countered coldly.
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  “The results of a seduction are the same for a woman as the use of force, are they not?”

  She scrambled awkwardly off his thighs, the wool skirts of her traveling dress twisting awkwardly around her in the process. The broken feather in her bonnet drooped further until it hung over one wary eye. She reached up and snatched it out of the way, leaving a broken feather shaft behind.

  Julian shot out his hand and snagged her wrist. “Answer me, Sophy. Have you had experience of seduction?”

  “It is a little late to ask me now, is it not? You ought to have made your inquiries into the matter before you offered for me.”

  And he knew quite suddenly that she had never lain in a man’s arms. He could see the answer he wanted in her eyes. But he felt compelled to make her admit the truth. She had to learn that he would tolerate no evasions, half-truths, or any of the myriad other shapes a woman’s lies could take.

  “You will answer me, Sophy.”

  “If I do, will you answer all my questions about your past amours?”

  “Of course not.”

  “Oh, you are so grossly unfair, my lord.”

  “I am your husband.”

  “And that gives you a right to be unfair?”

  “It gives me a right and a duty to do what is best for you. Discussing my past liaisons with you would serve no good purpose and we both know it.”

  “I am not so certain. I think it would provide me with greater insight into your character.”

  He gave a crack of laughter at that. “I think you have enough insight as it is. Too much at times. Now tell me about your experience with the fine art of seduction, Sophy. Did some country squire attempt to tumble you in the woods?”

  “If he had, what would you do about it?”

  “See that he paid for it,” Julian said simply.

  Her mouth fell open. “You would conduct a duel because of a past indiscretion?”

  “We stray from the topic, Sophy.” His fingers closed more firmly around her wrist. He could feel the small, delicate bones there and took care not to tighten his hold too far.