"What the devil is she doing down there?" Julian snapped.
"Isn't it obvious? She is well on her way to becoming a success, Julian." Fanny smiled with satisfaction. "She is perfectly charming and has no trouble at all making conversation. So far she has prescribed a remedy for Lady Bixby's nervous stomach, a poultice for Lord Thanton's chest, and a syrup for Lady Yelverton's throat."
"None of the men standing around her at the moment appear to be seeking medical advice," Julian muttered.
"Quite right. When I left her side a short while ago she was just launching into a description of sheep-raising practices in Norfolk."
"Damn it, I taught her everything she knows about raising sheep in Norfolk. She learned it on our honeymoon."
"Well, then, you must be very pleased to know she's putting the knowledge to good use socially."
Julian's eyes narrowed as he studied the males bunched around his wife. A tall, pale-haired figure dressed in unrelieved black caught his attention. "I see Waycott has lost no time in introducing himself."
"Oh, dear. Is he in the group?" Fanny's smile slipped as she bent forward to follow his gaze. The mischief faded from her eyes. "I'm sorry, Julian. I had not realized he was here tonight. But you must know she was bound to run into him sooner or later along with a few of Elizabeth's other admirers."
"I put Sophy in your care, Fanny, because I credited you with sufficient common sense to keep her out of trouble."
"Keeping your wife out of trouble is your job, not mine," Fanny retorted with asperity. "I am her friend and adviser, nothing more."
Julian knew he was being reprimanded for his lack of attention to Sophy during the past week but he was in no mood to muster a defense. He was too concerned with the sight of the handsome blond god who was at that very moment handing a glass of lemonade to Sophy. He had seen that particular expression on Waycott's face five years ago when the Viscount had begun hovering around Elizabeth.
Julian's hand clenched at his side. With a great effort of will he forced himself to relax. Last time he had been a besotted fool who had not seen trouble coming until it was too late. This time he would move quickly and ruthlessly to head off disaster.
"Excuse me, Fanny. I do believe you are right. It is my job to protect Sophy and I had better get on with the task."
Fanny swung around, her brows knitting in a concerned expression. "Julian, be careful how you go about things. Remember that Sophy is not Elizabeth."
"Precisely. And I intend to see that she does not turn into Elizabeth." Julian was already pacing down the length of the balcony toward the small side staircase that would take him to the ballroom floor.
Once on the lower level he immediately found himself confronted with a wall of people, several of whom paused to greet him and congratulate him on his recent marriage. Julian managed to nod civilly, accepting the well-meant compliments on his Countess and ignoring the veiled curiosity that often accompanied them.
His size was in his favor. He was taller than most of the other people in the room and it was not difficult to keep the cluster of males orbiting around Sophy in sight. Within a few minutes he had made his way to where she was holding court.
He spotted the drooping flower ornament in her coiffure at the same instant that Waycott reached out to adjust it.
"If I may be allowed to pluck this rose, madam?" Waycott said with smooth gallantry as he started to pull the dangling enameled flower from Sophy's hair.
Julian shouldered his way past two young males who were watching the blond man enviously. "My privilege, Waycott." He tweaked the ornament from a curl just as Sophy looked up in surprise. Waycott's hand fell away, his pale blue eyes narrowed with silent anger.
"Julian." Sophy smiled up at him with genuine delight. "I was afraid you would not be able to attend this evening. Isn't it a lovely ball?"
"Lovely." Julian surveyed her deliberately, aware of a violent sense of possessiveness. Fanny had turned her out well, he realized. Sophy's dress was richly hued and perfectly cut to emphasize her slender figure. Her hair was done in an elegant series of curls piled high to show off her graceful nape.
Jewelry had been confined to a minimum he saw and it occurred to him that the Ravenwood emeralds would have looked very nice around Sophy's throat. Unfortunately, he did not have them to give to her.
"I am having the most delightful time this evening," Sophy went on cheerfully. "Everyone has been so attentive and welcoming. Have you met all my friends?" She indicated the group of hovering males with a slight nod of her head.
Julian swung a cold gaze around the small gathering and smiled laconically at each familiar face. He allowed his eyes to linger ever so briefly on Waycott's amused, assessing expression. Then he turned pointedly away from the other man. "Why, yes, Sophy, I believe I have made the acquaintance of just about everyone present. And I'm certain that by now, you've had more than enough of their company."
The unmistakable warning was not lost on any man in the surrounding circle, although Waycott seemed more amused than impressed. The others hastened to offer congratulations, however, and for a few minutes Julian was obliged to listen to a great deal of fulsome praise for his wife's charm, herbal expertise, and conversational talents.
"Has a most commendable knowledge of farming techniques, for a female," one middle-aged admirer announced. "Could talk to her for hours."
"We were just discussing sheep, " a ruddy faced young man explained. "Lady Ravenwood has some interesting notions about breeding methods."
"Fascinating, I'm sure," Julian said. He inclined his head toward his wife. "I am beginning to realize I have married an expert on the subject."
"You will recall I read widely, my lord," Sophy murmured. "And lately I have taken the liberty of indulging myself in your library. You have an excellent collection of farm management books."
"I shall have to see about replacing them with something of a more elevating nature. Religious tracts, perhaps." Julian held out his hand. "In the meantime, I wonder if you can tear yourself away from such enthralling conversation long enough to favor your husband with a dance, madam?"
Sophy's eyes shimmered with laughter. "But, of course, Julian. You will forgive me, gentlemen?" she asked politely as she put her hand on her husband's arm.
"Of course," Waycott murmured. "We all understand the call of duty, do we not? Return to us when you are ready to play again, Sophy."
Julian fought back the urge to plant a fist square in the center of Waycott's too-handsome features. He knew Sophy would never forgive him for causing that sort of scene and neither would Lady Yelverton. Seething inwardly, he took the only other course open to him. He coolly ignored Waycott's jibe as he led Sophy out onto the floor.
"I get the impression you are enjoying yourself, he said as Sophy slipped easily into his arms.
"Very much. Oh, Julian, it is all so different than it was last time. Tonight everyone seems so nice. I have danced more this evening than I did during my entire season five years ago." Sophy's cheeks were flushed and her fine eyes were alight with her obvious pleasure.
"I am glad your first important event as the Countess of Ravenwood has turned out to be such a success." He put deliberate emphasis on her new title. He did not want her forgetting either her position or her obligation to that position.
Sophy's smile turned thoughtful. "I expect it's all going so well this time because I am married. I am now viewed as safe by every type of male, you see."
Startled by the observation, Julian scowled. "What the devil do you mean by that?"