Fanny groaned. "I think we can now say with some certainty that Sophy's heirloom ring is, indeed, a man's ring. It seems to have been expressly designed to make a male think quite highly of his own prowess in the bedchamber. Perhaps it was meant to give him good luck in that area of his life. In any event, it is definitely not the sort of jewelry Ravenwood will want his wife wearing in public."
Harriett chuckled. "If I were you, Sophy, I would not tell your husband the meaning of the designs on that ring. Put the thing away and ask Ravenwood for the family emeralds, instead."
"I am certain your advice is excellent," Sophy said quietly, thinking she would be damned before she would ask her husband for the Ravenwood emeralds. And I do appreciate your assistance in helping me track down the details of the ring."
"Not at all, Harriett said, beaming. "It was quite a fascinating project, wasn't it, Fanny?"
"Most instructive."
"Well, we had best be on our way, " Anne said, as the women began reshelving the books. "I promised Grandmother I would help her entertain some friends at cards this evening."
"And I am supposed to put in an appearance at Lady St. John's," Sophy said, dusting off her hands.
Jane eyed her friends without a word but as soon as they were all three seated in Sophy's carriage and safely out of earshot of Lady Fanny and her companion, she spoke up. "Well? Do not keep me in suspense. This is not the end of it. I know that. What will you do next, Sophy?"
Sophy stared out the window of the carriage, lost in thought for a moment. "It seems to me that we now know two things for certain about the ring. The first is that it probably belonged to a man who was part of a secret society he probably joined at Cambridge. And the second is that the society was involved in disreputable sexual practices."
"I think you are right," Anne agreed. "Your poor sister was the victim of some man who used women very badly, indeed."
"We already knew that," Jane said. "What do we do now?"
Sophy pulled her gaze away from the street scene and looked at her friends. "It seems to me there is only one person who might know the men who wear such rings."
Jane's eyes widened. "You cannot mean—"
"Of course," Anne said quickly. "Why didn't I think of it? We must contact Charlotte Featherstone at once and see what she can tell us of the ring or the man who might have worn it. Sophy, write the note this afternoon. I will deliver it in disguise at once."
"She may not choose to respond," Jane said hopefully.
"Perhaps, but it is the only recourse I have left, other than to wear the ring in public again and see who reacts to it."
"Too dangerous," Anne said at once. "Any man who recognizes the ring and sees you wearing it might think you were involved in the cult, yourself."
Sophy shuddered, remembering the man in the black hooded cape and mask. A most unusual type of excitement.
No, she must be very careful not to attract further attention with the ring.
Charlotte Featherstone's answer came within hours. Anne brought it to Sophy at once. Sophy tore open the envelope with a sense of mingled dread and anticipation.
From one Honorable Woman to Another: You flatter me by requesting what you are pleased to refer to as professional information. You say in your note that you are tracing the particulars of a family heirloom and your researches have led you to believe I may be of some assistance. I am only too happy to give you what little information I have but please allow me to tell you I do not think highly of the family member who left this ring behind. Whoever he was, he must have had a nasty streak in him.
Over the years I can recall five men who wore in my presence a ring such as you describe in your note. Two are now dead and, to be frank, the world is better off without them. The remaining three are Lords Utteridge, Varley, and Ormiston. I do not know what you plan to do next, but I advise caution. I can assure you that none of the three is good company for any woman, regardless of her station in Society. I hesitate to suggest it, but perhaps you should discuss the matter, whatever it may be, with your husband before proceeding further on your own.
The letter was signed with Featherstone's beautifully scrawled C. E
Sophy's pulse beat faster. At last she had names, she told herself. One of these three might very well be the man who was responsible for Amelia's death. "Somehow I must contrive to encounter these three men," she said evenly to Anne.
"Utteridge, Varley, and Ormiston," Anne repeated thoughtfully. "I have heard of them. They all move freely in Society, although their reputations are not the best. Using your own connections and those of my grandmother, it should not be difficult to get invitations to the parties and routs where we might expect to find these three lords."
Sophy nodded, refolding Featherstone's note. "I can see my appointment book is going to become more crowded than ever."
FOURTEEN
Waycott was making a nuisance of himself and not for the first time. Sophy was growing increasingly annoyed with him. She frowned slightly over Lord Utteridge's shoulder as he led her out onto the dance floor and saw with relief that Waycott was apparently heading out into the gardens.
It was about time he left her alone tonight, Sophy told herself. She had finally managed an introduction and a dance with the first name on her list—the once-handsome, but now dissipated-looking, Utteridge—but it had been hard work. Ever since she had arrived at the party, Waycott had been hovering, just as he had hovered on several other occasions during the past two weeks.
It had been hard enough to discover Utteridge's likely whereabouts this evening, Sophy thought, irritated—much more difficult than she and Anne and Jane had anticipated. She did not need Waycott getting in her way on top of everything else. Luckily Anne had been able to find out the pertinent information concerning the guest list at this rout at the last minute. Sophy certainly did not want to waste the time and effort that had been involved in getting herself on the same guest list.
The information available on Lord Utteridge had been minimal.
"I'm told he's run through most of his fortune at the gaming tables and has now begun to look for a rich wife," Anne had explained earlier that afternoon. "At the moment he's trying to attract the interest of Cordelia Biddle and she's scheduled to be at the Dallimores' tonight."
"Lady Fanny should be able to get me invited," Sophy had decided and that assumption had turned out to be quite correct. Lady Fanny had been a bit startled that Sophy should want to attend a function that promised to be exceedingly dull, but she had obligingly had a word with the hostess.
"It was not the least bit difficult, my dear," Fanny had said later with a knowing look in her eye. "You are considered a prize for any hostess these days."
"The power of Julian's title, I suppose," Sophy had remarked dryly, thinking that if Anne was right she would be able to use that power to ultimately punish Amelia's seducer.
"The Ravenwood title certainly helps," Harriett had agreed, looking up from her book, "but you may as well know, my girl, that it is not entirely because you're a Countess that you're fast becoming quite the thing this season."
Sophy was momentarily startled by the observation and then she grinned. "You need not go into detail, Harry. I am well aware that I owe whatever popularity I am presently enjoying to the simple fact that even the members of the ton suffer from the headache, digestive problems, and assorted bilious livers. I swear, whenever I attend a party I end up writing out as many medicinal recipes as an apothecary."