"I have never understood why this sort of thing is always happening to me," she said.

Without a word Julian took the reticule off her lap, opened it and dropped all the stray bits of ribbon inside.

As he handed the purse back to her he experienced the disquieting sensation that he had just opened Pandora's box.

Midway through the second week of her honeymoon on Julian's Norfolk estate, Sophy began to fear that she had married a man who had a serious problem with his after-dinner port.

Up until that point she had tentatively begun to enjoy her wedding trip. Eslington Park was situated against a serene backdrop of wooded knolls and lush pasture lands. The house itself was stolid and dignified in the classically inspired Palladian tradition that had been fashionable during the last century.

There was an aging, heavy feel to the interior but Sophy thought there was hope for the well-proportioned rooms with their tall windows. She looked forward to doing some redecorating.

In the meantime she had gloried in daily rides with Julian during which they explored the woods, meadows, and rich farmlands he had recently acquired. He had introduced her to his newly appointed steward, John Fleming, and seemed positively grateful when Sophy took no offense at the long hours he spent plotting the future of Eslington Park with the earnest young man.

Julian had also taken pains to introduce Sophy, as well as himself, to all the tenants on the property. He had seemed pleased when Sophy had admired sheep and assorted specimens of agricultural produce with a knowledgeable eye. There are some advantages to being country-bred, Sophy privately decided. At least such a woman had something intelligent to say to a husband who obviously had a love for the land.

More than once Sophy found herself wondering if Julian would ever develop a similar love for his new bride.

The tenants and neighbors had been in suspense awaiting the arrival of their new lord. But after Julian had accompanied several of the farmers into barns with total disregard for the polish on his elegant riding boots, the word went around that the new master of Eslington knew what he was about when it came to farming and sheep raising.

Sophy was readily accepted after she had cooed over a few plump babies, frowned in deep concern over a few sick ones, and held several learned discussions on the subject of the use of local herbs in home remedies. More than once Julian had been obliged to wait patiently while his wife exchanged a recipe for a cough syrup or a digestive aid with a farmer's wife.

He seemed to find it amusing to remove bits of straw from Sophy's hair after she had emerged from the close confines of a small cottage.

"You are going to make me a fine wife, Sophy," he had remarked with satisfaction during the third day of such visiting. "I chose well this time."

Sophy had hugged her pleasure at his words to herself and managed a laughing smile. "By that remark, I collect you mean I have the potential to become a good farmer's wife?"

"When all is said and done, that is precisely what I am, Sophy. A farmer." He had looked out over the landscape with the pride of a man who knows he owns everything he sees. "And a good farm wife will suit me well."

"You speak as if I will someday become this paragon," she had pointed out softly. "I would remind you that I am already your wife."

He had flashed her the devil's own smile. "Not yet, my sweet, but soon. Much sooner than you had planned."

The staff at Eslington Park was well trained and commendably efficient, although Sophy privately winced when servants nearly tripped over their own feet endeavoring to anticipate Julian's orders. They were obviously wary of their new master, although simultaneously proud to serve such an important man.

They had heard the rumors of his quick, ruthless temper from the coachman, groom, valet, and lady's maid who had accompanied Lord and Lady Ravenwood to Eslington, however, and were taking no chances.

All in all, the honeymoon was going quite well. The only thing that had marred her stay in Norfolk as far as Sophy was concerned was the subtle, but deliberate, pressure Julian was applying in the evenings. It was beginning to make her quite nervous.

It was obvious Julian did not intend to stay out of her bed for the next three months. He fully expected to be able to seduce her long before the stipulated time had passed.

Until the point when she had begun to notice his growing fondness for port after dinner, Sophy had been fairly certain she could handle the situation. The trick was to control her own responses to his increasingly intimate good-night kisses. If she could manage that she was quite convinced Julian would honor the letter, if not the spirit of his word. She sensed instinctively his pride would not allow him to sink to the level of using force to gain access to her bed.

But the increasing consumption of port worried her. It added a new and dangerous element to an already tense situation. She remembered all too well the night her sister Amelia had returned from one of her secret assignations and tearfully explained that a gentleman in his cups was capable of violent language and bestial behavior. Amelia's soft white arms had been marked with bruises that night. Sophy had been furious and demanded once more to know the name of Amelia's lover. Amelia had again refused to say.

"Have you told this fine lover of yours that Dorrings have been Ravenwood neighbors for generations? If Grandfather finds out what is happening, he will go straight to Lord Ravenwood and see that a stop is put to this nonsense!

Amelia sniffed back more tears. I have made certain my dear love does not know who my grandfather is for that very reason. Oh, Sophy, don't you understand? I am afraid that if my sweet love discovers I am a Dorring and thus a granddaughter of such a close neighbor of Ravenwood, he will not take the chance of meeting me again."

"You would let your lover abuse you rather than tell him who you are?" Sophy had asked incredulously.

"You do not know what it is to love," Amelia had whispered and then she had sobbed herself to sleep.

Amelia had been wrong, Sophy knew. She did know what it was to love but she was trying to deal with the dangers of the emotion in a more intelligent manner than her poor sister had done. She would not make Amelia's mistakes.

Sophy silently endured the growing anxiety over the matter of Julian's port consumption for several tense evenings before she broached the subject of his heavy drinking.

"Do you have trouble sleeping, my lord?" she finally inquired during the second week of her marriage. They were seated before the fire in the crimson drawing room. Julian had just helped himself to another large glass of port.

He regarded her with hooded eyes. "Why do you ask?"

"Forgive me, but I cannot help but notice that your taste for port is increasing in the evenings. People frequently use sherry or port or claret to aid them in getting to sleep. Are you accustomed to imbibing so much at night?"

He drummed his fingers on the arm of his chair and considered her for a long moment. "No," he finally said and drank half of his port in one gulp. "It disturbs you?"

Sophy focused her attention on her embroidery. "If you are having trouble sleeping there are more efficacious remedies. Bess taught me many of them."

"Are you proposing to dose me with laudanum?"

"No. Laudanum is effective but I would not resort to it as a remedy for poor sleep unless other tonics had failed. If you like I can prepare a mixture of herbs for you to try. I brought my medicine chest with me."

"Thank you, Sophy. I believe I shall continue to rely on my port. I understand it and it understands me."