"Charming and most presentable describe the vast majority of the young women of the ton, most of whom also have the advantage of being younger than I. I knew I must have something else in my favor to warrant attracting the Earl of Ravenwood. I was interested to discover what it was. It was simple enough when I put my mind to the problem."

Lord Dorring regarded her with a genuine curiosity that was not particularly flattering. "What is it you think you have going for you, girl? I like you well enough, of course. Perfectly sound sort of granddaughter and all that, but I confess I did wonder myself why the Earl took such a fancy to you."

"Theo!"

"Sorry, my dear, sorry," Dorring apologized hastily to his incensed wife. "Just curious, you know."

"As was I," Sophy said promptly. "But I believe I have hit upon the reasoning Ravenwood is using. You see, I have three essential qualities that he feels he needs. First, I am convenient and, as Grandmother has pointed out, reasonably well-bred. He probably did not want to spend a lot of time on the matter of choosing a second wife. I have the impression he has more important things to concern him."

"Such as?" Dorring asked.

"Selecting a new mistress or a new horse or a new parcel of land. Any one of a thousand items might conceivably come before a wife in order of importance to the Earl," Sophy said.

"Sophy!"

"I fear it's true, Grandmother. Ravenwood has spent as little time as possible on making his offer. You must agree I have hardly been treated to anything even faintly resembling a courtship."

"Here, now," Lord Dorring interrupted briskly. "You can't hold it against the man that he ain't brought you any posies or love poems. Ravenwood don't strike me as the romantic type."

"I think you have the right of it, Grandfather. Ravenwood is definitely not the romantic sort. He has called here at Chesley Court only a handful of times and we've been invited to the Abbey on merely two occasions.

"I've told you, he ain't the kind to waste time on frippery matters," Lord Dorring said, obviously feeling obliged to defend another male. "He's got estates to see to and I hear he's involved in some building project in London. The man's busy.

"Just so, Grandfather." Sophy hid a smile. "But to continue, the second reason the Earl finds me so suitable is my advanced age. I do believe he feels that any woman who finds herself unmarried at this point in her life should be everlastingly grateful to the man who was kind enough to take her off the shelf. A grateful wife is, of course, a manageable wife."

"Don't think it's that so much," her grandfather said reflectively, "as it is he thinks a woman of your age is bound to be more sensible and levelheaded than some young twit with romantic notions. Said something to that effect this afternoon, I believe."

"Really, Theo." Lady Dorring glowered at her husband.

"You may be right," Sophy said to her grandfather. "Perhaps he was under the impression I would be more levelheaded than a seventeen-year-old girl who was just out of the schoolroom. Whatever the case, we may assume my age was a factor in the Earl's decision. But the last and by far the most important reason he chose me, I believe, is because I do not in any way resemble his late wife."

Lady Dorring nearly choked on the poached turbot that had just been put in front of her. "What has that to do with anything?"

"It is no secret the Earl has had his fill of beautiful women who cause him no end of trouble. We all knew Lady Ravenwood was in the habit of bringing her lovers to the Abbey. If we knew it, you can be certain his lordship did, too. No telling what went on in London."

"That's a fact," Dorring muttered. "If she was wild here in the country, she must have made Ravenwood's life pure hell in town. Heard he risked his young neck in a couple of duels over her. You can't blame him for wanting a second wife who won't go around attracting other males. No offense, Sophy, but you ain't the type to be giving him trouble in that line, and I expect he knows it."

"I wish both of you would cease this most improper conversation, " Lady Dorring announced. It was clear she had little hope she would be obeyed.

"Ah, but Grandmother, Grandfather is quite right. I am perfect as the next Countess of Ravenwood. After all, I am country-bred and can be expected to be content with spending the majority of my time at Ravenwood Abbey. And I won't be trailing my paramours behind me wherever I go. I was a total failure during my one season in London and presumably would be an even greater failure if I went out into Society again. Lord Ravenwood is well aware he will not have to waste time fending off my admirers. There will not be any."

"Sophy," Lady Dorring said with fine dignity, "that is quite enough. I will tolerate no more of this ridiculous conversation. It is most unseemly."

"Yes, Grandmother. But has it escaped your notice that unseemly conversations are always the most interesting?"

"Not another word out of you, my girl. And the same goes for you, Theo."

"Yes, m'dear."

"I do not know," Lady Dorring informed them ominously, "if your conclusions regarding Lord Ravenwood's motives are accurate or not, but I do know that on one point, he and I are agreed. You, Sophy, should be extremely grateful to the Earl."

"I did once have occasion to be grateful to his lordship," Sophy said wistfully. "That was the time he very gallantly stood up with me at one of the balls I attended during my season. I remember the event well. It was the only time I danced all evening. I doubt he even remembers. He kept looking over my shoulder the whole time to see who was dancing with his precious Elizabeth."

"Don't fret yourself about the first Lady Ravenwood. She's gone and no loss," Lord Dorring said with his usual straightforward attitude in such matters. "Take my advice, young lady. Refrain from provoking Ravenwood and you'll get on quite well with him. Don't expect more from him than is reasonable and he'll be a good husband to you. The man looks after his land and he'll look after his wife. He takes care of his own."

Her grandfather was undoubtedly right, Sophy decided later that night as she lay awake in bed. She was reasonably certain that if she refrained from provoking him excessively, Ravenwood would probably be no worse than most husbands. In any event, she was not likely to see much of him. During the course of her single season in town she had learned that husbands and wives of the ton tended to live separate lives.

That would be to her advantage she told herself stoutly. She had interests of her own to pursue. As Ravenwood's wife she would have time and opportunity to make her investigations on behalf of poor Amelia. One day, Sophy vowed, she would succeed in tracking down the man who had seduced and abandoned her sister.

During the past three years Sophy had managed to follow Old Bess's advice for the most part and put her sister's death behind her. Her initial rage had slowly settled into a bleak acceptance. After all, trapped in the country, there was little hope of finding and confronting the unknown man responsible.

But things would be different if she married the Earl.

Restlessly Sophy pushed back the covers and climbed out of bed. She padded barefoot across the threadbare carpet and opened the small jewelry case that sat on the dressing table. It was easy to reach inside and find the black metal ring without the aid of a candle. She had handled it often enough to recognize it by touch. Her fingers closed around it.

The ring lay cold and hard in her hand as she drew it out of the case. Against her palm she could feel the impression of the strange triangular design embossed on its surface.

Sophy hated the ring. She had found it clutched in her sister's hand the night Amelia had taken the overdose of laudanum. Sophy had known then that the black ring belonged to the man who had seduced her beautiful fair-haired sister and gotten her with child—the lover Amelia had refused to name. One of the few things Sophy had deduced for certain was that the man had been one of Lady Ravenwood's lovers.