He relaxed, the faint smile edging his grim mouth again. "You are not merely a woman, my love. You are a most interesting female, believe me. I did not dream when I asked for your hand in marriage that I would be getting such a fascinating concoction. Did you know that there's a bit of lace dangling from your gown?"

Sophy glanced down uneasily and was chagrined to see the lace flopping over her breast. She made one or two fruitless efforts to push it back into place and then gave up. When she raised her head she found herself looking at Julian through a lock of hair that had slipped free of its pins. Irritably she pushed it back behind her ear. She drew herself up proudly.

"Would you care for a cup of tea, my lord?"

His smile broadened indulgently and Julian's eyes became very green. "Thank you, Sophy. After all the port I allowed myself after dinner, a cup of tea would be most welcome. I would not want to fall asleep at an awkward moment. You would be quite disappointed, I'm sure."

Arrogant man, she thought as she poured the brew with shaking fingers. He was interpreting her offer of tea as a gesture of surrender, she just knew it. A moment later when she handed him the cup he accepted it the way she imagined a battlefield commander accepted the sword of the vanquished.

"What an interesting aroma. Your own mixture, Sophy?" Julian took a sip of tea and resumed prowling her room.

"Yes." The word seemed to get caught somewhere in her throat. She watched with sick fascination as he took another sip. "Chamomile and… and other flowers. It has a very soothing effect on nerves that have become somewhat over agitated."

Julian nodded absently. "Excellent. He paused in front of the little rosewood desk to study the handful of books she had carefully arranged there. "Ah, the lamentable reading material of my bluestocking bride. Let me see just how regrettable your tastes really are."

He pulled first one and then another of the leather-bound volumes off the shelf. He helped himself to a second sip of tea while he studied the engraved leather bindings. "Hm. Virgil and Aristotle in translation. Admittedly a bit overpowering for the average reader but not really all that terrible. I used to read this sort of thing myself."

"I'm glad you approve, my lord," Sophy said stiffly.

He glanced at her, amused. "Do you find me condescending, Sophy?"

"Very."

"I don't mean to be, you know. I'm merely curious about you." He replaced the classics and removed another volume. "What else have we here? Wesley's Primitive Physic? A rather dated work, is it not?"

"Still an excellent herbal, my lord. With much detail about English herbs. Grandfather gave it to me."

"Ah, yes. Herbs." He put the book down and picked up another volume. He smiled indulgently. "Well, now, I see Lord Byron's romantic nonsense has made its way into the countryside. Did you enjoy Childe Harold, Sophy?

"I found it very entertaining, my lord. What about you?"

He grinned unabashedly at the open challenge. "I'll admit I read it and I'll admit the man has a way with melodrama, but, then he comes from a long line of melodramatic fools. I fear we shall hear more from Byron's melancholy heroes."

"At least the man is not dull. I understand Lord Byron is quite the rage in London," Sophy said tentatively, wondering if she had accidentally stumbled across a point of mutual intellectual interest.

"If by that you mean the women are busy throwing themselves at him, you're right. A man could get trampled under a lot of pretty little feet if he was idiotic enough to attend a crush where Byron was also present." Julian did not sound envious in the least. It was obvious he found the Byron phenomenon amusing, nothing more. "What else have we here? Some learned text on mathematics, perhaps?"

Sophy nearly choked as she recognized the book in his hand. "Not exactly, my lord."

Julian's indulgent expression was wiped off his face in an instant as he read the title aloud. "Wollstonecraft's A Vindication of the Rights of Women?"

"I fear so, my lord."

His eyes were glittering as he looked up from the book in his hands. "This is the sort of thing you have been studying? This ridiculous nonsense espoused by a woman who was no better than a demirep?"

"Miss Wollstonecraft was not a…a demirep," Sophy flared indignantly. "She was a free thinker, an intellectual woman of great ability."

"She was a harlot. She lived openly with more than one man without benefit of marriage."

"She felt marriage was nothing but a cage for women. Once a woman marries she is at the mercy of her husband. She has no rights of her own. Miss Wollstonecraft had deep insight into the female situation and she felt something should be done about it. I happen to agree with her. You say you are curious about me, my lord. Well, you might learn something about my interests if you read that book."

"I have no intention of reading such a piece of idiocy." Julian tossed the volume carelessly aside. "And what is more, my dear, I am not going to have you poisoning your own brain with the writing of a woman who, by rights, should have been locked away in Bedlam or set up in Trevor Square as a professional courtesan."

Sophy was barely able to restrain herself from throwing her full cup of tea at him. "We had an agreement on the matter of my reading habits, my lord. Are you going to violate that, also?"

Julian gulped down the last of his tea and set the cup and saucer aside. He came toward her deliberately, his expression cold and furious. "Hurl one more accusation about my lack of honor at me, madam, and I will not answer for the consequences. I have had enough of this farce you call a honeymoon. Nothing useful is being achieved. The time has come to put matters on a normal footing. I have indulged you long enough, Sophy. From now on, you will be a proper wife in the bedchamber as well as outside it. You will accept my judgment in all areas and that includes the matter of your reading habits."

Sophy's cup and saucer clattered alarmingly as she sprang to her feet. The lock of hair she had pushed behind her ear fell free again. She took a step backward and the heel of her slipper caught on the hem of her dressing gown. There was a rending sound as the delicate fabric tore.

"Now look what you've done," she wailed as she glanced down at the drooping hem.

"I have done nothing yet." Julian stopped in front of her and surveyed her nervous, mutinous expression. His eyes softened. "Calm yourself. I have not even touched you and you already look as if you have been struggling valiantly for your sadly misplaced female honor." He raised a hand and gently caught the dangling lock of hair between his fingers. "How ever do you manage it, Sophy?" he asked softly.

"Manage what, my lord?"

"No other woman of my acquaintance goes about in such sweet disarray. There is always some bit of ribbon or lace dangling from your gowns and your hair never stays where it is meant to stay."

"You knew I did not have the trick of fashion when you made your offer, my lord," she said tightly.

"I know. I did not mean to imply any criticism. I simply wondered how you achieved the effect. You carry it off so artlessly." He released the lock of hair and slid his blunt fingers around her head, tugging more pins free as he went.

Sophy stiffened as he eased his other arm around her waist and pulled her closer. She wondered frantically how long it would take for the tea to have its inevitable effect. Julian did not seem to be at all sleepy.

"Please, Julian—"

"I am trying to do precisely that, my love," he murmured against her mouth. "I want nothing more than to please you tonight. I suggest you relax and let me show you that being a wife is not really so terrible."

"I must insist on our agreement…" She tried to argue but she was so nervous now she could not even stand. She clutched Julian's shoulders to steady herself and wondered wildly what she would do if she had inadvertently used the wrong herbs in the tea.