"No, I am not reading them and I have no intention of doing so. Furthermore—"

Fanny's voice heralded them from the doorway, cutting off Julian's next words. "Sophy, Julian, good evening. Did you think we would never get here?" Fanny swept through the curtains, a vision in bronze silk. Harriett Rattenbury was right behind her, resplendent in her signature purple gown and turban.

"Good evening, everyone. So sorry for the delay." Harriett smiled cheerfully at Sophy. "My dear, you look lovely tonight. That shade of pale blue is quite becoming on you. Why the scowl? Is something wrong?"

Sophy hastily summoned up a welcoming smile and tugged her hand from Julian's grasp. "Not at all, Harry. I was worried about the two you."

"Oh, nothing to fret about," Harriett assured her, sitting down with a sigh of relief. "All my fault, I'm afraid. My rheumatism was acting up earlier this afternoon and I discovered I had run out of my special tonic. Dear Fanny insisted on sending out for more and as a consequence we were late dressing for the theater. How is the performance? Is Catalani in good form?"

"I hear she dumped a chamber pot over her lover's head just prior to the first act," Sophy said promptly.

"Then she is probably giving a rousing performance." Fanny chuckled. "It is common knowledge that she is at her best when she is quarreling with one of her paramours. Gives her work spirit and zest."

Julian eyed Sophy's outwardly composed face. "The more interesting scene is the one taking place here in this box, Aunt Fanny, and you and Harry are the cause."

"Highly unlikely," Fanny murmured. "We never get involved in scenes, do we, Harry?"

"Gracious, no. Most unseemly."

"Enough," Julian snapped. "I have just discovered that you are studying the Featherstone Memoirs in your Wednesday afternoon salons. What the devil happened to Shakespeare and Aristotle?"

"They're dead," Harriett pointed out.

Fanny ignored Sophy's muffled giggle and waved a hand with languid grace. "Surely, Julian, as a reasonably well-educated man, yourself, you must know how wide ranging an intelligent person's interests are. And everyone in my little club is very intelligent. There must be no fetters placed on the never-ending quest for enlightenment."

"Fanny, I am warning you, I do not want Sophy exposed to that sort of nonsense."

"It's too late," Sophy interjected. "I have already been exposed."

He turned to her with a grim look. "Then we must attempt to limit the ill effects. You will not read any more of the installments. I forbid it." He rose to his feet. "Now, if you ladies will excuse me, I believe I will go and see what is keeping Miles. I shall return shortly."

"Run along, Julian," Fanny murmured encouragingly. "We will be fine."

"No doubt," he agreed coldly. "Do try to keep Sophy from falling out of the box in her attempt to get a closer look at Charlotte Featherstone, will you?"

He nodded once, gave Sophy a last stony-eyed glare and stalked from the box. Sophy sighed as the curtain fell into place behind him.

"He is very good with exit lines, is he not?" she noted.

"All men are good at exit lines," Harriett said as she removed her opera glass from her beaded reticule. "They use them so frequently, you know. It seems they are always walking out. Off to school, off to war, off to their clubs, or off to their mistresses."

Sophy considered that briefly. "I'd say it was not so much a case of walking out as it is of running away."

"An excellent observation," Fanny said cheerfully. "How very right you are, my dear. What we just witnessed was definitely a strategic retreat. Julian probably learned such tactics under Wellington. I see you are learning the business of being a wife very rapidly."

Sophy grimaced. "I do hope you will not pay any regard to Julian's efforts to dictate our reading selections on Wednesday afternoons."

"My dear girl, do not concern yourself with such trivia," Fanny said airily. "Of course we will not pay Julian any mind. Men are so limited in their notions of what women should do, are they not?"

"Julian is a good man, as men go, Sophy, but he does have his blind spots," Harriett said as she raised the small binoculars to her eyes and peered through them. "Of course, one can hardly blame him after what he went through with his first Countess. Then, too, I'm afraid his experiences in battle tended to reinforce a rather sober outlook on life in general. Julian has a strongly developed sense of duty, you know and… ah, ha. There she is."

"Who?" Sophy demanded, her mind distracted by thoughts of Elizabeth and the effects of war on a man.

"The Grand Featherstone. She is wearing green tonight, I see. And the diamond and ruby necklace Ashford gave her."

"Really? How marvelously outrageous of her to wear it after the things she wrote about him in the second installment of the Memoirs. Lady Ashford must be livid." Fanny promptly dug out her own opera glasses and focused quickly.

"May I borrow your opera glasses?" Sophy asked Harriett. "I did not think to purchase some."

"Certainly. We'll shop for glasses for you this week. One simply cannot come to the opera without them." Harriett smiled her serene smile. "So much to see here. One would not want to miss anything."

"Yes," Sophy agreed as she focused the small glasses on the stunning woman in green. "So much to see. You are quite right about the necklace. It is spectacular. One can understand why a wife might complain if she discovered her husband was giving his mistress such baubles."

"Especially when the wife is obliged to make do on jewelry of far less quality," Fanny said musingly, her eyes on the simple pendant that graced Sophy's throat. "I wonder why Julian has not yet given you the Ravenwood emeralds?"

"I have no need of the emeralds." Sophy, still watching Charlotte Featherstone's box, saw a familiar pale-haired man enter. She recognized Lord Waycott at once. Charlotte turned to greet him with a graceful gesture of her beringed hand. Waycott bowed over the glittering fingers with elegant aplomb.

"If you ask me," Harriett said conversationally to Fanny, "your nephew probably saw entirely too much of the Ravenwood emeralds on his first wife."

"Um, you may be right, Harry. Elizabeth caused him nothing but grief whenever she wore those emeralds. It could be that Julian does not wish to see those particular stones on any woman again. The sight would undoubtedly remind him quite painfully of Elizabeth."

Sophy wondered if that was the real reason Julian had not yet given her the Ravenwood family gems. It seemed to her there might be other, less-flattering, reasons.

It took a woman of poise, stature, and polish to wear fine jewels, especially dramatic stones such as emeralds. Julian might not think his new wife had enough presence to carry off the Ravenwood jewels. Or he might not think her pretty enough for them.

But last night, she reflected wistfully, for a short while in the intimacy of her bedchamber, Julian had made her feel very beautiful, indeed.

Sophy neither complained nor asked for explanations much later that evening when Julian escorted her home and then announced he was going off to spend an hour or two at one of his clubs. Julian wondered at her lack of protest as he lounged moodily in the carriage while his driver picked a way through the dark streets. Didn't Sophy care how he spent the remainder of the evening or was she just grateful he was not going to invade her bedchamber a second time?

Julian had not originally planned to go on to a club after the opera. He had fully intended to take Sophy home and then spend the rest of the night teaching her the pleasures of the marriage bed. He had passed a good portion of the day plotting exactly how he would go about the task. This time, he had vowed, he would make it right for her.

He had envisioned himself undressing her slowly, kissing every inch of her softness as he brought her to a state of perfect readiness. This time he would not lose his self-control at the last minute and plunge wildly into her. This time he would go slowly and make certain she learned that the pleasure could be shared equally between them.

Julian was well aware that he had lost his head at a critical juncture the previous evening. It was not his customary style. He had gone into Sophy's bedchamber certain that he was in control, convinced that he really was only going to make love to her for her own good.

But the real truth was that he had wanted her so much, had been wanting her for so long, that by the time he had finally lost himself in her tight, welcoming body, he'd had no reserves of self-control on which to draw. Apparently he had used up those reserves during the previous week when he'd struggled to keep his hands off her.

The memory of his driving desire as he had finally buried himself in her silken sheath was enough to harden his body all over again. Julian shook his head, dazed at the realization of how the whole situation had escalated into something far larger and more ungovernable than he had ever anticipated. He wondered again how he had allowed himself to become so obsessed with Sophy.

There was no point attempting to analyze it, he finally decided as the carriage halted in front of his club. The important thing was to make certain the obsession did not take full control of him. He must manage it and that meant managing Sophy. He must keep a firm hand on the reins for both their sakes. His second marriage was not going to go the way of his first. Not only that, but Sophy needed his protection. She was much too naive and trusting.