"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 light-headed with her anger but she struggled desperately to conceal it. Her fate, she sensed, hinged on keeping a tight rein on her emotions.
Waycott chuckled reminiscently. "She did not remain innocent for long, I assure you. I am accounted a most excellent lover, Sophy, as you will soon discover." His eyes narrowed suddenly. "But that reminds me, my dear, I must ask you how you came by the ring."
"Yes. The ring. Where and when did you lose it, my lord?"
"I am not certain." Waycott frowned. "But it is possible the village girl stole it. She always claimed she was a member of the gentry but I knew better. She was the offspring of some village merchant. Yes, I have often wondered if she stole the ring from me while I slept. She was always after me, demanding some symbol of my love. Stupid chit. But how did the ring get into your hands?"
"I told you the night of the masquerade ball. May I inquire how you knew I was wearing the gypsy costume?"
"What? Oh, that. It was simple enough to have one of my footmen ask one of your maids what Lady Ravenwood planned to wear that evening. It was easy to find you in the crowd. But the ring was a surprise. Now I recall you said that you had acquired it from a friend of yours." Waycott pursed his lips. "But how does it happen that a lady of your class becomes friends with a tradesman's daughter? Did she work for your family?"