Seduction Page 2

  “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 h
orse’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.”