"Of course we did. We are women, my lord, and thus eminently more suited than men to an intellectual discussion of such issues. We had just been informed that an apology would resolve everything honorably and thereby make any shooting unnecessary when you had to come thundering up out of nowhere and proceed to interfere in something that was none of your business."

Julian groaned. "I do not believe this. Featherstone was going to apologize to you?"

"Yes, I believe she was. She is a woman of honor and she recognized that she owed me an apology. And I will tell you something, my lord, she was right when she said that no man was worth getting up at such an ungodly hour for the purpose of risking a bullet."

Sophy let herself out of the library and closed the door very quietly behind her. She told herself to take what satisfaction she could from having had the exit line this time. It was all she was going to get from the whole miserable affair.

Tears burned in her eyes. She dashed upstairs and headed for her room to shed them in solitude.

A long time later, she lifted her head from her folded arms, went to the basin to wash her face and then sat down at her writing table. Picking up a pen, she adjusted a sheet of paper in front of her and composed one more letter to Charlotte Featherstone.

Dear Miss C. E:

Enclosed please find the sum of two hundred pounds. I do not send this to you because of your promise to refrain from printing certain letters; rather because I do feel quite strongly that your many admirers owe you the same consideration they owe their wives. After all, they seem to have enjoyed the same sort of relationship with you that they have with the women they marry. Thus, they have an obligation to provide you with a pension. The enclosed draft is our mutual friend's share of the pension owed to you. I wish you good luck with your cottage in Bath.

Yours, S.

Sophy reread the note and sealed it. She would give it to Anne to deliver. Anne seemed to know how to handle that sort of thing.

And that ended the whole fiasco, Sophy thought as she leaned back in her chair. She had told Julian the truth. She had, indeed, learned a valuable lesson this morning. There was no point trying to win her husband's respect by living up to his masculine code of honor.

And she already knew she stood little chance of winning his love.

All in all there did not seem to be much point in spending any more time working on her marriage. It was quite hopeless to try to alter the rules Julian had laid down for it. She was trapped in this velvet prison and she would have to make the best of it. From now on she would go her own way and live her own life. She and Julian would meet occasionally at routs and balls and in the bedchamber.

She would undertake to give him his heir and he, in return, would see that she was well dressed and well fed and well housed for the rest of her life. It was not a bad bargain, she reflected, just a very lonely, empty one.

It did not promise to be the kind of marriage she had longed for but at least she was finally facing reality, Sophy decided. And, she reminded herself as she got to her feet, she had other things to do here in London. She had wasted enough time trying to win Julian's love and affection. He had none to give.

And, as she had told Julian, she had another project to keep her occupied. It was past time she gave her full attention to the matter of finding her sister's seducer.

Resolved to devote herself to that task, Sophy went to the wardrobe to examine the gypsy costume she planned to wear that evening to Lady Musgrove's masquerade ball. She stood contemplating the colorful gown, scarf and mask for some time and then she glanced at her small jewelry case.

She needed a plan of action, a way to draw out those who might know something about the black ring.

Inspiration struck suddenly. What better way to start her quest for the truth than to wear the ring at a masquerade ball where her own identity was a secret? It would be interesting to see if anyone noticed the ring and commented on it. If so, she might begin to pick up a few clues about its previous owner.

But the ball was hours away and she had been up for a long time already. Sophy discovered she was physically and emotionally exhausted. She went over to the bed with the intention of taking a brief nap and was sound asleep within minutes.

Downstairs in the library Julian stood staring at the empty hearth. Sophy's remark that no man was worth the effort of rising at dawn to risk a bullet burned in his ears. He had made a similar remark after fighting his last duel over Elizabeth.

But this morning Sophy had done exactly that, Julian thought. God help him, she had done the inconceivable, for a respectable woman. She had challenged a famous courtesan to a duel and then she had risen at dawn with the intention of risking her neck over a question of honor.

And all because his wife thought herself in love with him and could not bear to see his love letters to another woman in print.

He could only be thankful Charlotte had apparently refrained from mentioning that the pearl earrings she had worn to the dawn meeting had been a gift from him years ago. He had recognized them at once. If Sophy had known about the earrings she would have been twice as incensed. The fact that Charlotte had not taunted her younger opponent with the pearls said a great deal about Featherstone's respect for the woman who had called her out.

Sophy had a right to be angry, Julian thought wearily. He had made a great deal of money available to her but he had not been very generous with her when it came to the sort of gifts a woman expected from a husband. If a courtesan deserved pearls, what did a sweet, passionate, tenderhearted, faithful wife deserve?

But he had given little thought to buying Sophy anything in the way of jewelry. He knew it was because part of him was still obsessed with recovering the emeralds. As hopeless as that now appeared, Julian still found it difficult to contemplate the thought of the Countess of Ravenwood wearing anything other than the Ravenwood family gems.

Nevertheless, there was no reason he could not buy Sophy some small, expensive trinket that would satisfy her woman's pride. He made a note to pick up something at the jeweler's that very afternoon.

Julian left the library and went slowly upstairs to his room. The relief that had soared through him when he had first realized Sophy had not left the house to go off with another man did not do much to quench the chill he felt every time he realized she might have been killed.

Julian swore softly and told himself not to think about it any more. He would only succeed in driving himself crazy.

It was obvious Sophy had meant what she said last night when she had shuddered in his arms. She really did believe herself to be in love with him.

It was understandable that Sophy might not fully comprehend her own feelings, Julian reminded himself. The difference between passion and love was not always readily discernible. He could certainly testify to that fact.

But it would certainly do no harm for Sophy to believe herself in love with him, Julian decided. He did not really mind indulging this particular romantic fantasy.

Filled with a sudden need to hear her tell him once again exactly why she had felt compelled to confront Charlotte Featherstone, Julian opened the connecting door to Sophy's bedchamber. The question died on his lips as he studied her figure on the bed.

She was curled up, sound asleep. Julian walked over and stood looking down at her for a moment. She really is very sweet and innocent, he thought. Looking at her now, a man would have a hard time imagining her in the sort of proud rage she had been in a short while ago.

But, then, looking at her now a man would also have trouble imagining the warm tide of womanly passion that ran through her. Sophy was proving to be a female of many interesting aspects.

Out of the corner of his eye he spotted a pile of daintily embroidered handkerchiefs wadded up on the little zebrawood writing table. It was not difficult to figure out how the little squares of fabric had come to get so sadly crumpled.

Elizabeth had always shed her tears in front of him, Julian reflected. She had been able to cry gloriously at a moment's notice. But Sophy had come up to her room to cry alone. He winced as an odd sensation very much like guilt went through him. He pushed it aside. He'd had a right to be furious with Sophy today. She could have gotten herself killed.

And then what would I have done?

She must be exhausted, Julian decided. Unwilling to wake her, he reluctantly turned around to go back to his own room. Then he spotted the wildly patterned gypsy costume hanging in the open wardrobe and remembered Sophy's plans to attend the Musgrove masquerade that evening.

Normally he had even less interest in masquerade balls than he did in the opera. He had intended to allow his aunt to escort Sophy this evening. But now it struck him that it might be wise to drop into Lady Musgrove's later tonight.

It suddenly seemed important to demonstrate to Sophy that he thought more of her than he did of his ex-mistress.

If he hurried he could get to the jeweler's and back before Sophy awoke.

"Sophy, I have been so worried. Are you all right? Did he beat you? I was certain he would not allow you out of the house for a month." Anne, wearing a red-and-white domino and a glittering silver mask that concealed the upper half of her face leaned anxiously forward to whisper to her friend.