The gardens were magnificent. Sophy had heard they were Lord Dallimore's pride. Under any other circumstances she would have enjoyed the sight of them by moonlight. It was obvious that much care had been given to the carefully clipped hedges, terraces, and flower beds.
But tonight the elaborately designed greenery was making her pursuit of Lord Utteridge difficult. Every time she rounded a tall hedge, she found herself in another dead end. As she got farther from the house it became increasingly more difficult to peer into the shadows. Twice she stumbled into couples who had obviously left the ballroom seeking privacy.
How far could Utteridge wander, she asked herself in gathering irritation. The gardens were not so vast that he could lose himself in them. Then she began to wonder why he had chosen to take an extended excursion in the first place.
The answer to that occurred to her almost immediately. A man of Utteridge's character would no doubt use the privacy of the gardens for an assignation. Perhaps even now some hapless young woman was listening to his smooth blandishments and thinking herself in love. If he was the man who had seduced Amelia, Sophy told herself resolutely, she would do her best to see to it that he never married Cordelia Biddle or any other innocent heiress.
She plucked up her skirts, preparing to circle a small statue of Pan prancing in the middle of a flower bed.
"It's not wise to wander around out here alone," Waycott said from the shadows. "A woman could become quite lost in these gardens."
Sophy gasped and swung around to find the viscount staring at her from a short distance away. Her initial fright gave way to anger. "Really, my lord, must you sneak up on people?"
"I am beginning to think it is the only way I will ever be able to talk to you in private." Waycott took a couple of steps forward, his pale hair was almost silver in the moonlight. The contrast with the black clothes he favored made him look vaguely unreal.
"I do not think we have anything to talk about that requires privacy," Sophy said, her fingers tightening around her fan. She did not like being alone with Waycott. Julian's warnings about him were already ringing loudly in her head.
"You are wrong, Sophy. We have much to discuss. I want you to know the truth about Ravenwood and about Elizabeth. It is past time you learned the facts."
"I already know as much as I need to know," Sophy said evenly.
Waycott shook his head, his eyes glinting in the shadows. "No one knows the full truth, least of all you. If you had known it, you would never have married him. You are too sweet and gentle to have willingly given yourself to a monster like Ravenwood."
"I must ask you to stop this at once, Lord Waycott."
"God help me, I cannot stop." Waycott's voice suddenly turned ragged. "Do you not think I would if I could? If only it were that easy. I cannot stop thinking about it. About her. About everything. It haunts me, Sophy. It eats me alive. I could have saved her but she would not let me."
For the first time Sophy began to realize that whatever Waycott's feelings had been toward Elizabeth, they had not been superficial or fleeting. The man was clearly suffering a great anguish. Her natural sympathetic instincts were instantly aroused. She took a step forward to touch his arm.
"Hush," she whispered. "You must not blame yourself. Elizabeth was very high-strung, easily overwrought. Even those of us who lived in the countryside around Ravenwood knew that much about her. Whatever happened, it is finished. You must not agitate yourself over it any longer."
"He ruined her," Waycott said, his voice a mere thread of sound. "He made her what she became. Elizabeth did not want to marry him, you know. She was forced into the alliance by her family. All her parents could think about was the Ravenwood title and fortune. They had no regard for her sensibilities. They did not begin to comprehend her delicate nature."
"Please, my lord, you must not go on like this."
"He killed her." Waycott's voice grew stronger. "In the beginning he did it slowly, through a series of little cruelties. Then he began to grow more harsh with her. She told me he beat her several times with his riding crop—beat her as if she were a horse."
Sophy shook her head quickly, thinking of how frequently she, herself, had provoked Julian's wrath. He had never once used violence to retaliate. "No, I cannot believe that."
"It's true. You did not know her in the beginning. You did not see how she changed after she married him. He was always trying to cage her spirit and drown her inner fire. She fought back the only way she could by defying him. But she grew wild in her efforts to be free."
"Some say she was more than wild," Sophy said softly. "Some say she was mad. And if it is true, it is very sad."
"He made her that way."
"No. You cannot blame her condition on Ravenwood. Madness such as that is in the blood, my lord."
"No," Waycott said again, savagely. "Her death is on Ravenwood's hands. She would be alive today if it were not for him. He deserves to pay for his crime."
"That is utter nonsense, my lord," Sophy said coldly. "Elizabeth's death was an accident. You must not make such accusations. Not to me or anyone else. You know as well as I do that such statements can cause great trouble."
Waycott shook his head as if to clear it of some thick fog. His eyes seemed to become a shade less brilliant. He ran his fingers through his pale hair. "Listen to me. I am a fool to ramble on like this in front of you."
Sophy's heart went out to him as she realized what lay behind the wild accusations. "You must have loved her very much my lord."
"Too much. More than life, itself." Waycott sounded very weary now.
"I am sorry, my lord. More sorry than I can say."
The Viscount's smile was bleak. "You are kind, Sophy. Too kind, perhaps. I begin to believe you truly do understand. I do not deserve your gentleness."
"No, Waycott, you most assuredly do not." Julian's voice sliced like a blade through the darkness as he emerged from the shadows. He reached out and removed Sophy's hand from the other man's sleeve. The diamond bracelet gleamed on her wrist as he tucked it possessively under his arm.
"Julian, please," Sophy said, alarmed by his mood.
He ignored her, his attention on the Viscount. "My wife has a weakness for those she believes to be in pain. I will not have anyone taking advantage of that weakness. Most especially not you, Waycott. Do you comprehend my meaning?"
"Completely. Good night, madam. And thank you." Waycott bowed gracefully to Sophy and strode off into the darkness of the gardens.
Sophy sighed. "Really, Julian. There was no need to cause a scene."
Julian swore under his breath as he led her swiftly back along the path toward the house. "No need to cause a scene? Sophy, you do not appear to comprehend how close you are to making me lose my temper tonight. I have made it very clear to you I do not want you seeing Waycott under any circumstances."
"He followed me out into the garden. What was I supposed to do?"
"Why the devil did you go out into the garden alone in the first place?" Julian shot back.
That brought her up short. She could not tell him about her attempt to get information from Lord Utteridge. "It was very warm inside the ballroom," she said carefully, trying to stick to the truth so that she would not humiliate herself by getting caught in an outright lie.
"You should know better than to leave the ballroom alone. Where is your common sense, Sophy?"
"I am not quite certain, my lord, but I begin to suspect that marriage might have a very wearing effect on that particular faculty."
"This is not Hampshire where you can safely go traipsing off on your own."
"Yes, Julian."
He groaned. "Whenever you use that tone I know you are finding me tiresome. Sophy, I realize that I spend a great deal of my time lecturing you, but I swear you invite every word. Why do you insist on getting yourself into these situations? Do you do it just to prove to both of us that I cannot control my own wife?"