Seduction (42 page)

sister's death.

Behind her the mare nickered a faint welcome to another horse. Surprised that

anyone else should be riding along this portion of the Ravenwood lands, Sophy

started to turn around.

She did not move quickly enough. The horse's rider had already dismounted and

moved in too close. Sophy had a brief glimpse of a man in a black mask carrying

a huge, black, billowing cloak. She started to scream but the folds of the cloak

swept out to engulf her and then she was imprisoned in a muffling darkness.

She lost her grip on the reins, heard the mare's startled snort and then the

sound of the creature's hooves striking the ground. Sophy's captor swore

viciously as the horse's hoof beats faded into the distance.

Sophy struggled frantically within the confines of the cloak but a moment later

strong cords were passed around her midsection and her legs, chaining her arms

and her ankles.

The wind was knocked out of her as she was thrown across the pommel of a saddle.

"Would you kill me at this late date for what happened nearly five years ago,

Ravenwood?" Lord Utteridge asked with a world weary sigh of resignation. "I did

not think you were so slow when it came to this sort of thing.'

Julian faced him in the small alcove off Lady Salisbury's glittering ballroom.

"Do not act the fool, Utteridge. I have no interest in what happened five years

ago and you know it. It is the present that matters. And make no mistake: what

happens in the present matters very much."

"For God's sake, man, I have done no more than dance with your new Countess. And

only on one occasion, at that. We both know you cannot call me out on such a

flimsy pretext. It will create scandal where there is none."

"I can understand your anxiety about even the mildest conversation with a

husband, any husband. Your reputation is such that you are unlikely to be

comfortable in the company of married men." Julian smiled coldly. "It will be

most interesting to see how your attitude toward the sport of cuckoldry changes

once you, yourself, are married. But as it happens, I seek answers from you,

Utteridge, not an appointment at dawn."

Utteridge regarded him warily. "Answers about what happened five years ago? What

is the point? I assure you, I lost interest in Elizabeth after you put bullets

in Ormiston and Varley. I am not a complete fool."

Julian shrugged impatiently. "I do not give a bloody damn about five years ago.

I have told you that. What I want is information on the rings."

Utteridge went unnaturally still and alert. "What rings?"

Julian opened his fist and revealed the embossed black ring in his palm. "Rings

such as this one."

Utteridge stared at the circlet of metal. "Where the devil did you get that?"

"That need not concern you."

Utteridge's eyes lifted reluctantly from the ring to Julian's expressionless

face. "It is not mine. I swear it."

"I did not think it was. But you have one like it, do you not?"

"Of course not. Why would I want such an unremarkable object?"

Julian glanced down at the ring. "It is singularly ugly, isn't it? But, then it

symbolized an ugly game. Tell me, Utteridge, do you and Varley and Ormiston

still play those games?"

"By God, man, I tell you, I have not done more than exchange a few words with

your wife on the dance floor. Are you hurling accusations? If so, make them

plain. Do not fence with me, Ravenwood."

"No accusations. At least, not against you. Just give me answers, Utteridge, and

I will leave you in peace."

"And if I do not give them to you?"

"Why, then," Julian said easily, "we must discuss that dawn appointment you

mentioned a moment ago."

"You would call me out simply because you're not getting the answers you seek?"

Utteridge was clearly taken aback. "Ravenwood, I tell you, I have not touched

your new bride."

"I believe you. If you had, rest assured I would not be content with putting a

bullet in your arm the way I did with Ormiston and Varley. You would be dead."

Utteridge stared at him. "Yes, I can see that is a very real possibility. You

did not kill anyone over the issue of Elizabeth's honor but you are obviously

prepared to do so on behalf of your new lady. Tell me, why do you need answers

about the ring, Ravenwood?"

"Let us merely say that I have assumed the responsibility of seeing justice done

on behalf of someone whose name need not concern you."

Utteridge sneered faintly. "A cuckolded friend of yours, perhaps?"

Julian shook his head. "A friend of a young woman who is now dead along with her

unborn child."

Utteridge's sneer vanished. "Are we talking about murder?"

"It depends on how you look at the matter. The one on whose behalf I am acting

definitely thinks the owner of this ring is a murderer."

"But did he kill this young woman you mentioned?" Utteridge persisted.

"He caused her to take her own life."

"Some stupid little chit gets herself seduced and in trouble and now you seek

vengeance for her? Come now, Ravenwood. You are a man of the world. You know

that sort of thing happens all the time."

"Apparently the one I represent does not view that as a sufficiently mitigating

circumstance," Julian murmured. "And I am bound to take the matter as seriously

as my friend does."

Utteridge frowned. "Who are you representing? The mother of the girl? A

grandparent, perhaps?"

"As I said, that need not concern you. I have told you enough to assure you that

I am not going to put a bullet in you, Utteridge, unless you force me to do so.

You need no more information."

Utteridge grimaced. "Perhaps I owe you something after all this time. Elizabeth

was a very strange woman, was she not?"

"I am not here to discuss Elizabeth."

Utteridge nodded. "As you have approached me, I believe you already know a great

deal about the rings."

"I know that you and Varley and Ormiston wore them."

"There were others."

"Now dead," Ravenwood noted. "I have already traced two of them."

Utteridge slid him a thoughtful, sidelong glance. "But there is one other whom

you have not named and who is not dead."

"You will give me his name."

"Why not? I owe him nothing and if I do not tell you, I am certain you will get

the name from Ormiston or Varley. I will tell you what you want to know,

Ravenwood, if you will assure me that will be the end of it. I have no wish to

arise at dawn for any reason whatsoever. Getting up early does not suit my

constitution."

"The name, Utteridge."

Half an hour later Julian leaped down from his carriage and strode up the steps

of his home. His mind was full of the information he had forced out of

Utteridge. When Guppy opened the door, Julian stepped into the main hall with a

short nod of greeting.

"I will be spending an hour or so in the library, Guppy. Send the staff to bed."

Guppy cleared his throat. "My lord, you have a visitor. Lord Daregate arrived

only a few moments ago and is waiting for you in the library."

Julian nodded and walked on into the library. Daregate was seated in a chair,

reading a book he had taken from a nearby shelf. He had also helped himself to a

glass of port, Julian noticed.

"It's not even midnight, Daregate. What the devil has pried you out of your

favorite gaming hell at this hour?" Julian crossed the room and poured himself a

glass of the port.

Daregate put down the book. "I knew you planned to make further inquiries about

the ring and I thought I would drop by and see what you have learned. You

tracked down Utteridge tonight, did you not?"

"Could not your questions have waited until a decent hour?"

"I do not keep decent hours, Ravenwood. You know that."

"True enough." Julian took a chair and a healthy swallow of port. "Very well, I

will endeavor to enlighten you. There are four members of that devilish

fraternity of seducers still alive, not the two we learned about or the three

Sophy discovered."

"I see." Daregate studied the wine in his glass. "That would make it Utteridge,

Ormiston, Varley and… ?"

"Waycott."

Daregate's reaction was startling. His normal appearance of languid disinterest

vanished and in its place was a new, hard expression. "Good God, man, are you

certain of that?"

"As certain as I can be." Julian set down his glass with a controlled movement

that belied his inner rage. "Utteridge gave me the information."

"Utteridge is hardly a reliable source."

"I told him I would meet him at dawn if he were lying."

Daregate's mouth curved faintly. "Then he no doubt was convinced to tell you the

truth. Utteridge would not have any liking for such a challenge. But, if it is

true, Ravenwood, then there is a serious problem."

"Perhaps not. It's true Waycott has been hovering around Sophy for weeks and he

did manage to convince her to feel some sympathy for him, but I have lectured

her about his falseness."

"Sophy does not strike me as the type to be overly impressed with one of your

lectures, Ravenwood."

Julian smiled faintly, in spite of his mood. "True enough.

Women in general have a nasty habit of believing that they and they alone can

see the true nature of the downtrodden and the misunderstood. They are not

inclined to give a man credit for any intuitive abilities. But when I tell Sophy

that Waycott was the man who seduced her friend she will turn against him

completely."

"That is not what I meant by a problem," Daregate said bluntly.

Julian scowled at his friend, aware of the seriousness in Daregate's voice.

"What are you talking about, then?"

"This evening I heard that Waycott left town a day ago. No one seems to know

where he was headed but I think that, under the circumstances, you must consider

the possibility that he went into Hampshire."

EIGHTEEN

"You went to the old witch, just as Elizabeth did, didn't you? There is only one

reason a woman would seek her out." Waycott's tone was eerily conversational as

he set Sophy on her feet and pulled the cloak away from her face. He watched her

with an unnatural brightness in his eyes as he slowly removed his mask. "I am

quite pleased, my dear. I will be able to give Ravenwood the coup de grace when

I tell him his new Countess was determined to rid herself of his heir, just as

his first Countess did."

"Good evening, my lord." Sophy inclined her head graciously, just as if she were

meeting him in a London drawing room. She was still bound in the cloak but she

pretended to ignore that fact. She had not spent the past weeks learning to

conduct herself as befit a Countess for nothing. "Imagine meeting you here.

Rather an unusual location, is it not? I have always found this place very

picturesque."

Sophy gazed around the small stone chamber and tried to conceal a shudder of

fear. She hated this place. He had brought her to the old Norman ruin she had

loved to sketch until the day she had decided it was the scene of her sister's

seduction.

The ramshackle old castle, which had always looked so charmingly scenic, now

appeared like something out of a nightmare to her. Late afternoon shadows were

falling outside and the narrow slits of windows allowed very little light

inside. The bare stones of the ceiling and walls were darkened with traces of

old smoke from the massive hearth. The place was disturbingly dank and gloomy.

A fire had been laid on the hearth and there was a kettle and some provisions in

a basket. The most disturbing thing of all about the room, however, was the

sleeping pallet that had been arranged against one wall.

"You are familiar with my little trysting place? Excellent. You may find it very

useful in the future when you begin betraying your husband on a regular basis. I

am delighted I shall be the one to introduce you to the pleasures of the sport."

Waycott walked over to a corner of the room and dropped the mask onto the floor.

He turned to smile at Sophy from the shadows. "Elizabeth liked to come here on

occasion. It made a pleasant change, she said."

A dark premonition swept over Sophy. "And was she the only one you brought here,

Lord Waycott?"

Waycott glanced down at the mask on the floor and his face hardened. "Oh, no, I

used it occasionally to entertain myself with a pretty little piece from the

village when Elizabeth was occupied with her own strange fancies."

Rage surged through Sophy. It had a strengthening effect, she discovered. "Who

was this pretty little piece you brought here, my lord? What was her name?"

"I told you, she was just a village whore. No one important. As I said, I only

used her when Elizabeth was in one of her moods." Waycott looked up from his

contemplation of the mask, clearly anxious for Sophy to understand. "Elizabeth's

moods never lasted long, you know. But while they were upon her, she was not

herself. There were… other men at times. I could not tolerate watching her flirt

with them and then invite them to her bedchamber. Sometimes she wanted me to

join them there. I could not abide that."

"So you came here. With an innocent young woman from the village." Sophy was