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.

The huge ballroom was filled with costumed men and women. Colored lanterns had been strung overhead and dozens of huge potted plants had been placed strategically about to create the effect of an indoor garden.

Sophy grimaced behind her own mask as she recognized Anne's voice. "No, of course he did not beat me and as you can see I have not been imprisoned. But he did not understand any of it, Anne."

"Not even why you did it?"

"Least of all that."

Anne nodded soberly. "I was afraid he would not. I fear Harriett is quite right when she says men do not even allow women to claim the same sense of honor they possess."

"Where is Jane?"

"She's here." Anne glanced around the crowded ballroom. "Wearing a dark blue satin domino. She's terribly afraid you will shun her forever after what she did this morning."

"Of course I will not shun her. I know she only did what she felt was best. It was all a complete disaster from the beginning."

A figure in a blue domino had materialized at Sophy's elbow. "Thank you, Sophy," Jane said humbly. "It's true that I did what I thought was best."

"You need not refine upon your point, Jane," Anne said brusquely.

Jane ignored her. "Sophy, I am so sorry but I simply could not allow you to risk getting killed over such a matter. Will you ever forgive me for my interference this morning?"

"It is over and done, Jane. Pray forget about it. As it happens, Ravenwood would undoubtedly have interrupted the duel even without your assistance. He saw me leaving the house this morning."

"He saw you? Good heavens. What must he have thought when he watched you get into the carriage?" Anne asked, sounding stricken.

Sophy shrugged. "He assumed I was running off with another man."

"That explains the look in his eyes when he opened the door to me," Jane whispered. "I knew then why he is so frequently called a devil."

"Oh, dear God," Anne said bleakly. "He must have assumed you were behaving like his first wife. Some say he killed her because of her infidelities."

"Nonsense," Sophy said. She had never completely believed that tale; never wanted to believe it, but just for a moment she did wonder to what lengths Julian might be driven if he were goaded too far. He had certainly been furious with her that morning. Anne was right, Sophy thought with a small chill. For a while there in the library, there had been a devil looking out of those green eyes.

"If you ask me, you had two close calls today," Jane said. "You not only barely missed getting hurt in a duel, but you probably came within an inch of your life when Ravenwood saw you get into the carriage."

"You may rest assured I have learned a lesson. From now on I intend to be exactly the sort of wife my husband expects. I will not interfere in his life and in return I will expect him not to interfere in mine."

Anne bit her lip thoughtfully. "I am not so certain it will work that way, Sophy."

"I will make certain it works that way," Sophy vowed. "I do have one more favor to ask you, though, Anne. Can you see to the delivery of another letter to Charlotte Featherstone?"

"Sophy, please," Jane said uneasily, "leave it alone. You've done enough in that direction."

"Do not worry, Jane. This will be the end of it. Can you do it for me, Anne?"

Anne nodded. "I can do it. What are you going to say in the letter? Wait, let me guess. You're going to send her the two hundred pounds, aren't you?"

"That is exactly what I am going to do. Julian owes it to her."

"This is beyond belief," Jane muttered.

"You may stop fretting, Jane. As I said, it is all over. I have more important matters to concern me. What is more, they are matters I should have been concerned with all along. I do not know why I let myself become distracted by marriage."