"I will be leaving for London in the morning," Julian said, speaking to her for the first time.

Sophy looked up, hope springing to life within her. "We're going to London, my lord?"

"No, Sophy. You are not going to London. I am. You, my dear, scheming wife, will remain here at Eslington Park. I am going to grant you your fondest wish. You may spend the remainder of your precious three months in absolute peace. I give you my solemn word I will not bother you."

It dawned on her that he was going to abandon her here in the wilds of Norfolk. Sophy swallowed in shock. "I will be all alone, my lord?"

He smiled with savage civility. "Quite alone as far as having any companions or a guilt-stricken husband to dance attendance on you. However, you will have an excellently trained staff at your disposal. Perhaps you can amuse yourself tending to their sore throats and bilious livers."

"Julian, please, I would rather you just beat me and be done with it."

"Don't tempt me," he advised dryly.

"But I do not wish to stay here by myself. Part of our agreement was that I not be banished to the country while you went to London."

"You dare mention that insane agreement to me after what you have done?"

"I am sorry if you do not like it, my lord, but you did give me your word on certain matters before our marriage. As far as I am concerned, you have come very near to breaking your oath on one point and now you are going to do so again. It is not… not honorable of you, my lord."

"Do not presume to lecture me on the subject of honor, Sophy. You are a woman and you know little about it," he roared.

Sophy stared at him. "I am learning quickly."

Julian swore softly and tossed aside his napkin. "Don't look at me as if you find me lacking in honor, madam. I assure you, I am not violating my oath. You will eventually get your day in London but that day will not arrive until you have learned your duty as a wife."

"My duty."

"At the end of your precious three months I will return here to Eslington Park and discuss the subject. I trust that by then you will have decided you can tolerate my touch. One way or another, madam, I will have what I want out of this marriage."

"An heir and no trouble."

His mouth crooked grimly. "You have already caused me a great deal of trouble, Sophy. Take what satisfaction you can from that fact because I do not intend to allow you to create any further uproar in my life."

Sophy stood forlornly amid the marble statuary in the hall the next morning, her head held at a brave angle as she watched Julian prepare for his departure. As his valet saw to the loading of his baggage into the coach his lordship took his leave of his new bride with chilling formality.

"I wish you joy of your marriage during the next two and a half months, madam."

He started to turn away and then halted with a disgusted oath as he caught sight of a dangling ribbon in her hair. He paused to retie it with a swift, impatient movement and then he was gone. The sound of his boots echoing on the marble was haunting.

Sophy endured a week of the humiliating banishment before her natural spirit revived. When it did she decided that not only had she suffered quite enough for her crime, she had also made a serious tactical error in dealing with her new husband.

The world began to seem much brighter the moment she made the decision to follow Julian to London.

If she had a few things to learn about managing a husband, then it followed that Julian had a few things to learn about managing a wife. Sophy determined to start the marriage afresh.

Julian surveyed the solemn scene that greeted him as he walked through the door of his club. "There's enough gloom in here to suit a funeral," he remarked to his friend, Miles Thurgood. "Or a battlefield," he added after a moment's reflection.

"What did you expect? Miles asked, his handsome young face set in the same grim lines as every other male face in the room. There was, however, an unmistakable air of ghoulish amusement in his vivid blue eyes. "It's the same at all the clubs in St. James and everywhere else in town this evening. Gloom and doom throughout the city."

"The first installment of the infamous Featherstone Memoirs was published today, I assume?

"Just as the publisher promised. Right on time. Sold out within an hour, I'm told."

"Judging from the morbid look on everyone's face, I surmise the Grand Featherstone made good on her threat to name names."

"Glastonbury's and Plimpton's among others." Miles nodded toward two men on the other side of the room. There was a bottle of port sitting on the small table between their chairs and it was obvious both middle-aged lords were sunk deep in despondency. "There'll be more in the next installment, or so we're told."

Julian's mouth thinned as he took a seat and picked up a copy of the Gazette. "Leave it to a woman to find a way to create more excitement than the news of the war does." He scanned the headlines, looking for the customary accounts of battle and the list of those who had fallen in the seemingly endless peninsular campaign.

Miles grinned fleetingly. "Easy for you to be so damn sanguine about the Featherstone Memoirs. Your new wife ain't here in town where she can get hold of the newspapers. Glastonbury and Plimpton weren't so lucky. Word has it Lady Glastonbury instructed the butler to lock poor Glastonbury out of his own house and Plimpton's lady is reported to have staged a scene that shook the rafters."

"And now both men are cowering here in their club."

"Where else can they go? This is their last refuge."

"They're a pair of fools, Julian declared, frowning as he paused to read a war dispatch.

"Fools, eh?" Miles settled back in his chair and eyed his friend with an expression of mingled laughter and respect. "I suppose you could give them sage advice on how to deal with an angry woman? Not everyone can convince his wife to rusticate in the country, Julian."

Julian refused to be drawn. He knew Miles and all his other friends were consumed with curiosity about his newly acquired bride. "Glastonbury and Plimpton should have seen to it that their wives never got their hands on a copy of the Memoirs."

"How were they supposed to prevent that from happening? Lady Glastonbury and Lady Plimpton probably sent footmen to wait in line along with everyone else at the publisher's office this afternoon."

"If Glastonbury and Plimpton cannot manage their wives any better than that, they both got what they deserved," Julian said heartlessly. "A man has to set down firm rules in his own home."

Miles leaned forward and lowered his voice. "Word has it both Glastonbury and Plimpton had an opportunity to save themselves but they failed to take advantage of it. The Grand Featherstone decided to make an example of them so that the next victims would be more amenable to reason."

Julian glanced up. "What the devil are you talking about?"

"Haven't you heard about the letters Charlotte is sending out to her former paramours?" drawled a soft, deep voice.

Julian's brows climbed as the newcomer sank into the chair across from him with languid ease. "What letters would those be, Daregate?"

Miles nodded. "Tell him about the letters."

Gideon Xavier Daregate, only nephew and thus heir apparent of the dissolute, profligate, and unmarried Earl of Daregate, smiled his rather cruel smile. The expression gave his aquiline features the look of a bird of prey. The silvery gray color of his cold eyes added to the impression. "Why, the little notes the Grand Featherstone is having hand carried to all potential victims. It seems that, for a price, a man can arrange to have his name left out of the Memoirs."