"Sophy, I don't know what to say." Julian raked a hand through his hair. "If what you suspect is true, then I cannot deny I am well pleased. But I had hoped… that is, I had thought you would perhaps—" He broke off and fumbled awkwardly for the rest of his sentence. "I would have had you happier about the whole thing," he finally managed lamely.
Sophy glared at him from under her brows, the last of her tears drying up in the face of his typical male arrogance. "You assumed, no doubt, that the prospect of impending motherhood would turn me into a sweet-tempered, contented wife? One who would be quite willing to give up all her personal aspirations in favor of devoting herself full time to running your country houses and rearing your children?"
Julian had the grace to redden. "I had hoped it would make you more content, yes. Please believe me, I would have you happy in this marriage, Sophy."
"Oh, do go away, Julian. I want a bath and a rest." Fresh tears burned in her eyes. "There is much to be done if I am to be carted off to Hampshire tomorrow."
"Sophy." Julian made no move to leave the bedchamber. He stood there watching her with an oddly helpless expression. "Sophy, please do not cry." He opened his arms.
Sophy glowered at him a moment longer through her watery eyes, hating this new lack of control over her emotions. Then, with a gulping sob she walked straight into Julian's arms. They closed tightly around her as she proceeded to dampen his bare chest with her tears.
Julian held her until the storm subsided. He did not try to cheer her or soothe her or scold her. He simply folded her tightly against his strength and kept her there until the last of the wrenching sobs had faded.
Sophy recovered herself slowly, aware of the comforting warmth of Julian's embrace. It was the first time he had ever held her other than to kiss or to make love to her, she realized, the first time he had offered her something other than passion. She did not move for a long while, savoring the feel of his big palm moving soothingly up and down her spine.
Finally, with great reluctance, she pushed herself away from him. "I beg your pardon, my lord. I do not understand myself lately. I assure you, I hardly ever cry." She did not look at him as she stepped back. Instead she busied herself groping for the handkerchief that ought to have been in the pocket of her dressing gown. When she could not locate it, she muttered a small oath.
"Is this what you are looking for?" Julian scooped up the square of embroidered cotton from where it had fallen on the carpet.
Chagrined at the thought that she could not even manage to keep a handkerchief properly placed in her pocket, Sophy snatched it from his hand. "Yes, thank you."
"Allow me to get you a fresh one." He walked over to her dressing table and found another handkerchief.
When he handed it to her with an air of grave concern she blew into it with great energy, wadded it up and shoved it into her pocket. "Thank you, my lord. Please excuse such a depressing display of emotion. I do not know what came over me. Now, I really must have my bath. If you will forgive me, I have a great many details to attend to."
"Yes, Sophy," Julian said with a sigh. "I will forgive you. I only pray that someday you will forgive me." He picked up his clothes and walked out of the room without another word.
Much later that night Julian sat alone in the library, legs outstretched before him, a bottle of claret on the table beside him. He was in a devil of a mood and he knew it. The house was quiet now for the first time in hours. Up until a short time ago it had been busy with the bustle of Sophy's travel preparations. The commotion had depressed him. It was going to be lonely here without her.
Julian helped himself to another glass of claret and wondered if Sophy was crying herself to sleep. He had felt like a brute this morning when he had told her he was sending her back to Ravenwood Abbey but he also knew he had no choice. Once he had learned what she was up to, he'd had no option but to get her out of the city. She was wading into dangerous waters and she had no knowledge of how to keep herself front drowning.
Julian swallowed a mouthful of claret and speculated on whether or not he ought to feel guilty for the way he had manipulated Sophy that morning. At the very beginning of the confrontation in her bedchamber he had quickly realized there was no way she would respond to logical arguments about her own safety. Her personal sense of honor overrode such considerations. And he could not bring himself to use physical force to get her to do the reasonable thing.
He had, therefore, fallen back on the only other approach he could think of even though he had not been at all certain it would be effective. He had used her feelings for him to maneuver her into doing as he wished.
It had been a heady shock to watch her stalwart defenses crumple so swiftly when he had warned her that her actions might force him to risk his life in a duel. She must truly be in love with him. No other emotion could be powerful enough to overcome her deep sense of honor. For his sake she had abandoned her quest for vengeance.
Julian felt at once humbled by the obvious strength of her feelings and simultaneously exultant. There was no doubt but that Sophy had given herself to him—belonged to him, in ways that, until now, he had never believed possible.
But even as he gloried in that realization, he was grimly aware that she was very unhappy and he was the cause. It is just so blasted unfair. Nothing is going the way I had thought it would when I agreed to marry you.
Now, on top of everything else, she was quite possibly pregnant. He winced as he recalled that one of the things she had asked of him was not to be rushed into childbed.
Julian sank lower in the chair and wondered if he would ever be able to redeem himself in Sophy's eyes. It seemed in that moment that he had done everything wrong, right from the beginning. How did a man go about convincing his wife that he was worthy of her love? he asked himself. It was a problem he had not ever imagined having to solve and after all that had passed between himself and Sophy there was every chance the tangle could never be resolved.
The door opened behind him. Julian did not glance around the wings of his chair. "Go on to bed, Guppy and send the rest of the staff to their rooms. I intend to stay in here a while and there is no point in any of you staying up. I will see to the candles."
"I have already told Guppy and the rest of the staff to retire for the night," Sophy said, quietly closing the door.
Julian froze at the sound of her voice. Then he slowly put down his glass and got to his feet to face her. She looked very slender and fragile in a pink, high-waisted gown. It was difficult to believe she might be pregnant, Julian thought. Her hair was piled high on her head and anchored with a ribbon that was already beginning to untie itself. She smiled her gentle, beguiling smile.
"I thought you would be in bed by now," Julian said gruffly. He wondered at her mood. She was not crying, nor did she appear about to argue or scold or plead. "You need rest for your journey."
"I came to say good-bye to you, Julian." She halted in front of him, her eyes luminous.
A rush of relief went through him. Apparently she was no longer as distraught as she had been earlier. "I will be joining you soon," he promised.
"Good. I shall miss you." She traced the folds of his carefully folded cravat. "But I would not have us part with ill feelings."
"I assure you, there are no ill feelings. At least not on my part. I only want what is best for you. You must believe that, Sophy."