He was in a much more cheerful mood than he had been earlier that day and the reason was clear. It was true Sophy was still angry with him, still feeling defiant and hurt by his failure to condone her actions that morning. But he had satisfied himself that she had been telling the truth, as usual, when she had claimed to be in love with him.

He had been almost certain of it when he'd found the bracelet flung in a heap on his pillow this afternoon. It was why he had not barged straight into her bedchamber and put the bracelet on her wrist himself. Only a woman in love would hurl such an expensive gift back in a man's face and hold out for a sonnet instead.

He was no good at sonnets, but he might try his hand at a short note to accompany the bracelet the next time he tried to give it to Sophy.

More than ever he wished he knew the fate of the emeralds. The new Countess of Ravenwood would look very good in them. He could envision her wearing the stones and nothing else.

The image danced in his mind for a moment, causing his groin to grow heavy and taut. Later, Julian promised himself. Later he would take his gypsy lady into his arms and touch her and kiss her until she cried out her response, until she pleaded with him for fulfillment, until she told him again of her love.

Julian discovered that now he had heard the words, he was suddenly very hungry to hear them again.

He was not overly concerned about her threat to wrap her heart in cotton wool and stow it away on the shelf. He was getting to know her and if there was one thing of which he was increasingly certain, it was that Sophy could not long ignore the tug of the tender, honest emotions that flowed so vibrantly in her veins.

Unlike Elizabeth, who was a victim of her own wild passions, Sophy was a victim of her own heart. But she was a woman and she lacked the strength necessary to protect herself from those who would abuse her nature. She needed him to take care of her.

The trick now was to make her understand that she not only needed him, she could trust him with her love.

That thought brought the image of the black metal ring to mind. Julian scowled in the darkness of the carriage. He did not like the idea that Sophy had taken to wearing the memento of her sister. Not only was it unattractive, as he had told her, but it was obvious she was using it to remind herself that it was never wise to give one's heart to a man who did not love in return.

Daregate emerged from the card room as Julian walked into his club and took a seat near a bottle of port. There was a glitter of cold amusement in Daregate's eyes when he spotted his friend. One look at his face and Julian knew word of what had happened at Leighton Field had leaked out.

"There you are, Ravenwood." Daregate clapped him on the shoulder and dropped into the nearest chair. "I was worried about you, my friend. Breaking up duels is a dangerous business. Could have gotten yourself shot. Women and pistols don't mix well, you know."

Julian fixed him with a quelling look that had predictably little effect. "How did you hear such nonsense?"

"Ah, so it is true," Daregate observed with satisfaction. "I thought it might be. Your lady is just spirited enough to do it and God knows Featherstone is eccentric enough to meet her."

Julian gave him a steady look. "I asked how you heard of it?"

Daregate poured himself a class of port. "By merest chance, I assure you. Do not worry. It is not common knowledge and will not become so."

"Featherstone?" Julian vowed he would make good on his promise to ruin her if she had, indeed talked.

"No. You may rest assured she is saying nothing. I got it secondhand from my valet who happened to attend a boxing match this afternoon with the man who handles Feather-stone's horses. He told my man he'd had to get Featherstone's rig out before dawn this morning."

"And just how did the groom figure out what was happening?"

"It seems the groom is dallying with one of Featherstone's maids who told him a certain lady of quality had taken exception to one of Featherstone's little blackmail notes. There was no name mentioned, which is why you are safe. Apparently the principals in this little matter all have some sense of discretion. But when I heard the story I guessed Sophy might have been the offended party. Can't think of any other lady with the guts to do such a thing."

Julian swore under his breath. "One word of this to anyone else and I swear I will have your head, Daregate."

"Now, Julian, don't be angry." Daregate's smile was fleeting but surprisingly genuine. "This is just servant gossip and will soon die out. As I said, there was no name mentioned. As long as none of the principals talk, you can brazen it out. If I were you, I'd be flattered. Personally, I cannot think of any other man who's wife would think enough of him to call out his mistress."

"Ex-mistress," Julian muttered. "Kindly remember that. I have spent altogether too much time explaining that fact to Sophy."

Daregate chuckled. "But did she comprehend your explanations, Ravenwood? Wives can be a little thickheaded about such things."

"How would you know? You've never bothered to marry."

"I am capable of learning by observation," Daregate said smoothly.

Julian's brows lifted. "You may have ample opportunity to put what you have learned into practice if that uncle of yours continues in his present ways. There's a good chance he'll either get himself killed by a jealous husband or else he'll drink himself to death."

"Either way, by the time his fate catches up with him there will be very little chance of salvaging the estate," Daregate said with sudden savagery. "He has gutted it and drained the blood from its carcass."

Before Julian could respond to that, Miles Thurgood strolled over to sit down nearby. It was obvious he had overheard Daregate's last words.

"If you do inherit the title, the solution is obvious," Miles said reasonably. "You will simply have to find yourself a rich heiress. Come to think of it, that redheaded friend of Sophy's is probably going to be quite wealthy when her stepfather finally has the decency to depart to the next world."

"Anne Silverthorne?" Daregate grimaced. "I'm told she has no intention of ever marrying."

"I believe Sophy felt very much the same way, " Julian murmured. He thought about the young woman in boy's garb who had been handling the pistols that morning and frowned as he recalled the red hair stuffed under a cap. In fact, I think I can assure you that they have far too much in common. Come to think of it, you would be wise to avoid her, Daregate. She would give you as much trouble as Sophy is presently giving me."

Daregate slanted him a curious look. "I will keep that in mind. If I do inherit, I will have my hands full salvaging the estate. The last thing I would need would be a wild, headstrong wife like Sophy."

"My wife is neither wild nor headstrong," Julian stated unequivocally.

Daregate gazed at him thoughtfully. "You are right. Elizabeth was wild and headstrong. Sophy is merely high-spirited. She is nothing like your first countess, is she?"

"Nothing like her at all." Julian poured himself a glass of port. "I think it's time we changed the subject."

"Agreed," Daregate said. "The prospect of having to find myself a rich, willing heiress to marry in order to save the estate is almost enough to make me wish long life and good health to my dear uncle."

"Almost," Miles repeated with amused insight, "but not quite enough. If that estate fells into your hands we all know you will do whatever you have to do in order to save it."

"Yes." Daregate tossed back his port and reached for the bottle. "It would keep me busy, wouldn't it?"

"As I said a moment ago," Julian remarked, "I think it's time to change the subject. I have a question for both of you and I do not want either it or the answer to go beyond the three of us. Is that understood?"