"And according to the gossip, she is honoring her word not to name names of the people who pay the blackmail," Anne put in helpfully. "Surely that implies some sort of honorable behavior."

"Do not tell me you are actually defending her." Jane looked stunned.

"I do not care how much she collects from the others, but I will not have Julian's love letters to her appear in print," Sophy stated categorically.

"Then send her the two hundred pounds," Jane urged. "If she's so terribly honorable, she will not print the letters."

"That would not be right. It is dishonorable and cowardly to pay off a blackmailer," Sophy said. "So you see, I really have no choice but to call her out. It is exactly what a man would do in similar circumstances."

"Dear God," Jane whispered helplessly. "Your logic is beyond me. I cannot believe this is happening."

"Will both of you help me?" Sophy looked at her friends.

"You may count on me," Anne said. "And on Jane, too. She just needs time to adjust to the situation."

"Dear God," Jane said again.

"Very well," Sophy said, "the first step is to see if Featherstone will agree to meet me on a field of honor. I will send her a message today."

"As your second, I will see that it is delivered."

Jane stared at her, appalled. "Are you insane? You cannot possibly call on a woman such as Featherstone. You might be seen. It would ruin you utterly in Society. You would be forced to return to your stepfather's estate in the country. Do you want that?"

Anne paled and for an instant genuine fear appeared in her eyes. "No. I most certainly do not want that."

Sophy was alarmed at her friend's violent reaction to the thought of being sent back to the country. She frowned worriedly. "Anne, I do not want you taking any undue risks on my behalf."

Anne shook her head quickly, her cheeks returning to their normal warm color and her eyes lightening. "It's quite all right. I know exactly how this matter can be handled. I will send a boy around for your note to Featherstone and have him bring it directly to me. I will then deliver it in disguise to Featherstone and wait for a response. Do not worry, no one will recognize me. When I dress the part, I look very much like a young man. I have tried it before and enjoyed it thoroughly."

"Yes," Sophy said, thinking about it, "that should work well."

Jane's anxious glance moved from Anne to Sophy and back again. "This is madness."

"It is my only honorable option," Sophy said soberly. "We must hope Featherstone will accept the challenge."

"I, for one, will pray she refuses," Jane said tightly.

When Sophy returned from her ride a half hour later she was told Julian wished to see her in the library. Her first instinct was to send word that she was indisposed. She was not at all certain she could face her husband with any sense of composure just now. The letter of challenge to Charlotte Featherstone was waiting to be written.

But avoiding Julian would be cowardly and today, of all days, she was determined not to be a coward. She must get in practice for what lay ahead.

"Thank you, Guppy," she said to the butler. "I will go and see him at once." She spun on her booted heel and walked boldly toward the library.

Julian looked up from a journal of accounts as she swept into the room. He rose politely. "Good morning, Sophy. I see you have been riding."

"Yes, my lord. It was a fine morning for it." Her eyes went to the cased dueling pistols mounted on the wall behind Julian. They were a lethal looking pair, long, heavy-barreled weapons created by Manton, one of the most famous gunmakers in London.

Julian gave Sophy a brief, chiding smile. "If you had informed me you intended to ride today, I would have been happy to join you."

"I rode with friends."

"I see." His brows arched faintly in the characteristic way they did when he was vaguely annoyed. "Do I take that to mean you do not consider me a friend?"

Sophy looked at him and wondered if one ever risked one's life in a duel over a mere friend. "No, my lord. You are not my friend. You are my husband."

His mouth hardened. "I would be both, Sophy."

"Really, my lord?"

He sat down and slowly closed the journal. "You do not sound as if you believe such a condition possible."

"Is it, my lord?"

"I think we can manage it if we both work at it. Next time you wish to ride in the morning, you must allow me to accompany you, Sophy."

"Thank you, my lord. I will consider it. But I certainly would not wish to distract you from your work."

"I would not mind the distraction." He smiled invitingly. "We could always put the time to good use discussing farming techniques."

"I fear we have exhausted the subject of sheep breeding, my lord. Now, if you will excuse me, I must be going."

Unable to bear any more of this face-to-face confrontation, Sophy whirled and fled from the room. Plucking up the folds of her riding skirts she ran up the stairs and down the hall to the privacy of her bedchamber.

She was pacing her room, composing the note to Featherstone in her mind when Mary knocked on the door.

"Come in," Sophy said and winced when her maid walked into the room holding her jaunty green riding hat. "Oh, dear, did I lose that in the hall, Mary?"

"Lord Ravenwood told a footman you lost it but a few minutes ago in the library, ma'am. He sent it up here so's you wouldn't wonder where it was."

"I see. Thank you. Now, Mary, I need privacy. I wish to catch up on my correspondence."

"Certainly, ma'am. I'll tell the staff you don't want to be bothered for a while."

"Thank you," Sophy said again and sank down at her writing desk to pen the letter to Charlotte Featherstone.

It took several attempts to get it right but in the end Sophy was satisfied with the result.

Dear Miss C. F:

I received your outrageous note concerning our mutual friend this morning. In your note you threaten to publish certain indiscreet letters unless I submit to blackmail. I will do no such thing.

I must take leave to tell you that you have committed a grave insult for which I demand satisfaction. I propose that we arrange to settle this matter at dawn tomorrow morning. You may choose the weapons, of course, but I suggest pistols as I can easily provide them.

If you are as concerned with your honor as you are with your old-age pension, you will respond in the affirmative at once.

Yours Very Truly, S.

Sophy blotted the note very carefully and sealed it. Tears burned in her eyes. She could not get the thought of

Julian's love letters to a courtesan out of her head. Love letters. Sophy knew she would have sold her soul for a similar token of affection from Ravenwood.

And the man had the brazen nerve to claim he wished friendship as well as his husbandly privileges from her.

It struck Sophy as ironic that she might very possibly be risking her life tomorrow at dawn for a man who did not and probably could not love her.

Charlotte Featherstone's response to Sophy's challenge arrived later that afternoon, delivered by a ragged-looking, dirty-faced lad with red hair who came to the kitchens. The note was short and to the point. Sophy held her breath as she sat down to read it.

Madam:

Dawn tomorrow will be quite acceptable, as will pistols. I suggest Leighton Field, a short distance outside the city, as it is bound to be deserted at that hour. Until dawn, I remain very truly yours in honor,

C. E

Sophy's emotions were in chaos by bedtime. She was aware that Julian had been annoyed by her long silences at dinner but it had been beyond her to keep up a casual conversation. When he had retired to the library, she had excused herself and gone straight upstairs to her room.

Once inside the sanctuary of her bedchamber she read and reread Featherstone's terrifyingly brief note and wondered what she had done. But she knew there was no turning back now. Her life would be in the hands of fate tomorrow.