improper conversation, " Lady Dorring
announced. It was clear she had little hope she would be obeyed.
"Ah, but Grandmother, Grandfather is quite right. I am perfect as the next
Countess of Ravenwood. After all, I am country-bred and can be expected to be
content with spending the majority of my time at Ravenwood Abbey. And I won't be
trailing my paramours behind me wherever I go. I was a total failure during my
one season in London and presumably would be an even greater failure if I went
out into Society again. Lord Ravenwood is well aware he will not have to waste
time fending off my admirers. There will not be any."
"Sophy," Lady Dorring said with fine dignity, "that is quite enough. I will
tolerate no more of this ridiculous conversation. It is most unseemly."
"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