Panic shot through her when she glanced down and saw that she had retrieved violet leaves instead of the herbs she needed. Hurriedly she stuffed the leaves back into a pocket.

"Why did you not sell the emeralds?" she asked, trying to distract Waycott's attention. She sat down on a stool in front of the hearth and made a production out of adjusting her skirts. Her fingers closed around another small packet.

"That would have been difficult to do. I told you, every good jeweler in London was watching for the emeralds to appear on the market. Even if I had sold them stone, by stone, I would have been at risk. They are very uniquely cut gems and would have been easily recognized. But in all truth, Sophy, I had no desire to sell them."

"I understand. You liked knowing that you had stolen them from the Earl of Ravenwood." She fumbled with the second packet of herbs, opening it cautiously and combining the contents with the tea leaves. Then she fussed with the kettle and teapot.

"You are very perceptive, Sophy. It is odd, but I have often felt that you and you alone, truly understood me. You are wasted on Ravenwood, just as Elizabeth was."

Sophy poured the boiling water into the pot and prayed she had used a sufficient quantity of the sleeping herbs. Then she sat tensely on the stool, waiting for the brew to steep. The final product would be bitter, she realized. She would have to find some way to conceal the taste.

"Do not forget the cheese and bread, Sophy," Waycott admonished.

"Yes, of course." Sophy reached into the basket and removed a loaf of coarse bread. Then she spotted the small container of sugar. Her trembling fingers brushed the glittering emeralds as she picked up the sugar. "There is no knife for the bread, my lord."

"I am not so foolish as to put a blade in your hands, Sophy. Tear the bread apart."

She bent her head and did as he had instructed. Then she carefully arranged the fragments of bread and chunks of strong cheese on a plate. When she was finished she poured the tea into two cups. "All is ready, Lord Waycott. Do you wish to eat by the fire?"

"Bring the food over here. I would have you serve me the way you do your husband. Pretend we are in the drawing room of Ravenwood Abbey. Show me what a gracious hostess you can be."

Calling on every ounce of composure she possessed, Sophy carried the food across the room and placed the cup in his hand. "I fear I may have added a bit too much sugar to the tea. I hope it is not too sweet for your taste."

"I like my tea quite sweet." He watched her with anticipation as she put the food in front of him. "Sit down and join me, my dear. You will need your strength later. I have plans for us."

Sophy sat down slowly on the pallet, trying to keep as much distance as possible between herself and Waycott. "Tell me, Lord Waycott, are you not afraid of what Ravenwood will do when he discovers you have abused me?"

"He will do nothing. No man in his right mind would cross Ravenwood at cards or cheat him in business but everyone knows Ravenwood will never again bestir himself to risk his neck over a woman. He has made it clear he no longer thinks enough of any woman to take a bullet for her." Waycott bit off a chunk of cheese and a swallow of tea. He grimaced. "The tea is a bit strong."

Sophy closed her eyes for a moment. "I always make it that way for Ravenwood."

"Do you? Well, in that case, I will have it the same way."

"Why do you doubt that my husband would challenge you? He fought a duel over Elizabeth, did he not?"

"Two of them. Or so legend would have it. But he engaged in those appointments during the first months of his marriage when he still believed Elizabeth loved him. After the second dawn meeting he must have realized he could neither control my sweet Elizabeth's spirit nor terrorize every man in the country so he abandoned all efforts to avenge his honor where a woman is involved."

"And that is why you do not fear him. You know he will not challenge you because of me?"

Waycott took another swallow of tea, his eyes focused intently on the fire. "Why would he challenge me over the issue of your honor when he did not bother to do so over Elizabeth's?"

Sophy sensed a thread of uncertainty in Waycott's voice.

He was trying to convince himself as well as her that he had nothing to fear from Julian. "An interesting question, my lord," she said softly. "Why would he bother, indeed?"

"You are not half so beautiful as Elizabeth."

"We have already agreed upon that." Sophy watched, her stomach knotted with tension as Waycott took another sip of tea. He drank mechanically, his mind on the past.

"Nor do you have her style or charm."

"Quite true."

"He could not possibly want you as badly as he wanted Elizabeth. No, he will not bother to call me out over you." Waycott smiled slowly above the rim of his cup. "But he may very well murder you the way he murdered her. Yes, I think that is exactly what he will do when he finds out what has occurred here today."

Sophy kept silent as Waycott took the last swallow of tea. Her own cup was still full. She held it cradled in her palms and waited.

"The tea was excellent, my dear. Now I should like some of the bread and cheese. You will serve it to me."

"Yes, my lord." Sophy got to her feet.

"But first," Waycott drawled slowly, "you will undress and put the Ravenwood emeralds around your throat. That was the way Elizabeth always did it."

Sophy went very still, searching his eyes for some signs of the herb's effect. "I do not intend to undress for you, Lord Waycott."

"But you will." From out of nowhere Waycott produced a palm-size pocket pistol. "You will do exactly as I say." He smiled his too brilliant smile. "And you will do it exactly as Elizabeth did it. I will guide you every step of the way. I will show you precisely how to spread your thighs for me, madam."

"You are as mad as she was," Sophy whispered. She took a step back toward the fire. When Waycott did nothing, she took another and another.

He allowed her to retreat nearly the length of the room and then with casual brutality he yanked on the rope that bound her ankle.

Sophy gasped as she tumbled awkwardly to the hard stone floor. She lay there for a moment, trying to steady herself and then she looked fearfully at Waycott. He was still smiling but there was a dazed quality in his eyes now.

"You must do as I say Sophy, or I will be obliged to hurt you."

She sat up cautiously. "As you hurt Elizabeth that night by the pond? Ravenwood did not kill her, did he? You killed her. Will you murder me as you did your beautiful, faithless Elizabeth?"

"What are you talking about? I did nothing to her. Ravenwood killed her. I told you that."

"No, my lord. You have tried to convince yourself all these years that Ravenwood was responsible for her death because you do not wish to admit you were the one who killed the woman you loved. But you did. You followed her the night she went to visit Old Bess. You waited by the pond for her to return. When you realized where she had gone and what she had done, you were angry with her. Angrier than you had ever been."

Waycott staggered to his feet, his handsome face contorted with violence. "She went to the old witch to ask for a potion to get rid of the babe, just as you did today."

"And the babe was yours, was it not?"

"Yes, it was mine. And she taunted me, saying she no more wanted my child than she had wanted Ravenwood's." Waycott took two unsteady steps toward Sophy. The pocket pistol waved erratically in his hand. "But she had always claimed she loved me. How could she wish to get rid of my babe if she loved me?"

"Elizabeth was incapable of loving anyone. She married Ravenwood to secure a good position and all the money she needed." Sophy edged away from him on her hands and knees. She dared not rise to her feet for fear Waycott would pull the rope again. "She kept you dangling on her puppet strings because you amused her. Nothing more."