Stanwood turned just as Julian reached him. Surprise flitted across the blackguard's face just before Julian shoved him into the wall. "I told you in May, and I'll tell you once more, Stanwood. Stay away from my sister. Next time, I'll kill you for it," he said low.

Fear flashed briefly in Stanwood's eyes before he clawed at Julian's hands. "Unhand me, Kettering!" he spat. "You've no right to treat me in such a manner!"

"I've every right," he breathed angrily, and shoved him hard against the wall again, knocking from their mountings two porcelain plates that shattered on the wood floor. "Don't think I don't know about your debts, sir, or that no bank will lend to you. Don't think I don't know about your inquiries into my sister's annuity. You want nothing more than her bloody dowry!"

Stanwood shoved back, unbalancing Julian. "What of it? I'm not so different from you! Rumor has it Redbourne settled quite a sum on you to take that harlot off his hands!"

Julian's heart stopped cold; the room suddenly seemed to shrink. His hands curled into fists, and he saw nothing but the whites of Stanwood's eyes as he lunged at him. The barmaid's shriek was lost in the thud of his fist against Stanwood's face. The two of them crashed to the floor, Julian's fist finding purchase twice more before shoving Stanwood's head into the floor and scrambling to his feet. "You son of a bitch," he snarled, "stay away from my sister, do you hear me?"

Touching his split lip gingerly, Stanwood looked at the blood on his fingers. He smirked at it, then at Julian. "How will you stop me?" he asked mockingly. "Sophie will be one and twenty in less than a month's time. You can't hold her prisoner."

It took every ounce of strength Julian had to keep from killing the man right there, in that crowded room, with his bare hands. "If you come near her, I will use every ounce of my influence to ruin you, Stanwood. There is not a bank in Europe that will lend you a single shilling. Your debts will be called in. You won't be able to find employment with a reputable establishment. You can't hide from me," he said evenly, "so you had best heed me." And with that, he turned on his heel and walked from the room with Stanwood's biting laughter pounding in his ears.

Sixteen.

S OPHIE'S HEART WOULD not stop pounding from her near-disastrous encounter with Julian and the sheer terror of imagining what he might have done had he seen William's carriage in front of the house.

On the couch in her rooms, she frantically assessed her situation as impossible and completely hopeless. How long could she continue to steal out of the house to meet William in obscure places with a desperate hope that no one saw them? Was she to avoid her own brother for the rest of her life? She wanted to tell Julian the truth, but William said that if they went to him now, he would only be angered because she had disobeyed him. They needed to allow some time to pass, William said, so that Julian would come to see how he truly adored her and did not care a whit for her fortune.

But she'd never be able to endure the wait!

The door banged open; with a start, Sophie jerked around-and she knew the moment she saw Julian's face. He knew! Her stomach plummeted instantly; she felt as if she had just been rammed against the wall, the breath knocked clean from her lungs. The room seemed to spin as a million thoughts roared through her mind, centering quickly on one-William. He meant to take her from William, banish her just as Sarah Cafferty had been banished from London, to deny her the one man who would make her happy. Unable to speak, unable to breathe, Sophie gripped the arm of the couch and tried to catch her breath. Claudia. She had to speak with Claudia.

"A word, Sophie." His voice filled the room, reverberating against the walls, the furniture, the ceiling. Sophie squeezed her eyes shut; cold fear pricked at every fiber in her. Desperate, she turned her back to the door and to her brother, frantically seeking to put the pieces of her shattered composure back together.

"Where did you go this afternoon?"

The fear paralyzed her tongue. Stumbling to her feet, she moved awkwardly to her bed and clutched at the hangings.

"Answer me!" he demanded, and she realized he had moved closer. Her grip tightened on the hangings, and she desperately sought a way out, a plausible lie- "You were with Stanwood. In spite of the fact that you have been forbidden to see him, you were with him, in front of my house."

He had seen them. The floor seemed to shift under her feet and Sophie's grip on the bed hangings slipped. She stumbled, landing on the edge of the bed. Julian was suddenly towering over her, glaring down at her with eyes as black and as hard as coal. "You have disobeyed me one time too many, Sophie," he breathed angrily. "You and I leave for Kettering Hall at once."

That single pronouncement verbalized her worst nightmare. "No, Julian!" she cried frantically. "You don't understand! William loves me!"

Something flared in his eyes, and he roughly grabbed her shoulders. "Stanwood does not love you, Sophie! He loves your bloody fortune!" he roared.

Hot tears spilled from her eyes, blinding her, and Sophie shoved helplessly against his chest. "Yes, he does love me! Why won't you believe a man like William could love me?"

Julian stilled; his grip on her arm slackened. "My God, Sophie," he muttered hoarsely. "Have you no more esteem for yourself than that?"

Esteem for herself? With a groan of pain, Sophie struggled out of his grip and stumbled away from the bed. Julian had no idea what her life was like. He was a man, he was handsome, he was a wealthy earl to whom women flocked like geese. He had no idea what it was to be the youngest sister of such an earl, the plainest and dullest of them all, the one who had to be sent to finishing school if there was to be any hope of a decent offer for her. She knew that the men Aunt Violet brought around to court her were appropriately pedigreed, but were not considered prize catches among the ton. But William- William made her feel desirable and alive. He loved her! And Julian would deny her love for the sake of a proper pedigree!

His hand was on her shoulder. "Sophie, darling, there are many other lads who-"

"No!" she cried, shrugging his hand off. "No, Julian! I love William!"

"Be that as it may," he said hoarsely, "I cannot sit by and allow that blackguard to ruin you. I have no choice- I forbade you and you expressly defied me. I gave you my trust and you betrayed me. I have no choice but to take you away from here before you are ruined."

The fear was suddenly strangling her. "No!" she sobbed, and whirled around to face him. "You can't send me away! I shall die there! Oh, Julian, I beg of you, do not send me away-I swear I won't see him again, I swear it on Valerie's grave!" she begged hysterically. "Just don't send me to Kettering Hall!"

Julian hesitated only a moment before he shook his head. "You leave me no choice, Sophie. I cannot trust you, and as I am responsible for your health and safety, I will do what I must. There will be no more discussion of it. Get ready to leave," he said tightly, and turned on his heel, striding for the door.

Terrified, Sophie watched his retreat. "Julian, please!" she screamed.

He paused at the door; through the blur of her tears, she saw his shoulders sag and for one insane moment, she hoped. "We depart in an hour," he muttered, and walked out of her room, ignoring her as she collapsed on the floor in despair, sobbing uncontrollably.

The laudanum had helped Claudia to sleep, and when she awoke, she felt much improved-enough to contemplate joining Julian for supper. Perhaps she was feeling altogether a bit too sentimental, but when he had wrapped his arms around her this afternoon, she had felt secure, almost as if nothing could touch her there- death could not touch her in his arms. But the glimmer of comfort, both physical and emotional, had ended so soon. Too soon. Yes, well, if it hadn't been for her little display of tears and self-pity, he might have stayed.

Claudia paused in the brushing of her hair to frown at her reflection. No doubt he thought her very silly, crying and carrying on like that. In truth, she hardly knew Ellie at all, but she had grieved as if the woman was her very own sister. Slowly, she resumed the brushing of her hair, swearing that she would not be so sullen, when Sophie burst into her suite, her face streaked with tears. Claudia started with great surprise. "Oh, Claudia!" Sophie wailed, and hurled herself across the room, landing at Claudia's feet to bury her face in her lap.

Tendrils of dread coiled around Claudia's heart. "Dear God, what has happened?"

"Mercy save me, it's Julian!" the girl cried into her lap.

The tendrils were suddenly squeezing the very life from her. Panicked, she roughly forced Sophie's head up. "What of Julian? What has happened to him?"

Sophie gave a feeble shake of her head. "Nothing has happened to him-he is a beast!"

A strong wave of relief flooded her. She realized she was clutching the sides of Sophie's head in something of a death grip. "Calm yourself, Sophie. Take a deep breath and tell me what has happened," she said evenly, lowering her hands.

"I hate him, I swear I do! He's horrid -he says . . . he says I must go to Kettering Hall! He would banish me before he would see me happy!" Sophie cried hysterically. "He knows about William, and he means to banish me!"

So Julian had at last discovered his sister's affections for a mere baronet. It seemed terribly harsh of him to react in such a way-how could he make Sophie cry so wretchedly?

"You promised you would help me if you could," Sophie continued raggedly. "You are the only one to whom I can turn now! Please speak with him, Claudia! He won't listen to me! You must speak with him! I. . . I cannot go to Kettering, I will perish there, I swear it!"

"Is his objection Stanwood's rank? Is it nothing more than that?"

Sniffing loudly, Sophie nodded, and Claudia felt the old burn of indignation in her. It was perfectly all right for a man to take whomever he wanted to his bed or the altar, but the moment a woman thought to look past her narrow little world, the entire British aristocracy was suddenly shaking at its very foundation! Stanwood was a baronet, for God's sake, not a murderer or a highwayman, and Julian would deny his sister the chance to marry the man she adored for the sake of his bloody propriety! "I will speak with him," she assured Sophie.

"I knew you would! You can make him change his mind!"

Claudia wasn't so certain about that. As furious as she was for Sophie, English law made Julian's word final. If she could not persuade him to let Sophie follow her heart, there were few options available to Sophie to fight him, much less any that would not embroil her deeply in scandal. Having been in a similarly precarious situation, Claudia's heart went out to her sister-in-law, and she gingerly laid a hand against her wet cheek. "I will talk to him, Sophie. I will do everything in my power to persuade him that he cannot dismiss your feelings in this. I shall speak to him tonight-"

"Now!" Sophie shrieked, clearly on the verge of crumbling with anxiety.

Claudia eased Sophie back so that she could stand. "Very well, I shall speak with him now."

With a great sigh of relief, Sophie threw her head back and closed her eyes. "Thank you, Claudia! I know you will convince him-you must convince him!"

God in heaven, she hoped that she could-she could not bear to think what Sophie might do if she failed.

She found Julian in the small blue drawing room on the third floor, poring over one of several musty leather-bound books stacked around him, so engrossed in the tome that he did not hear her enter. Claudia paused at the threshold, gazing at him. His round, wire-rimmed spectacles were perched precariously on his nose; a thick strand of ink black hair swept across his brow, dipping over his eye. The faint shadow of a beard covered his jaw . . . which was bulging with the angry clench of his teeth.

She must have moved, because he suddenly looked up, and for one brief, fleeting moment, his heart shone in his eyes. But he quickly dropped his gaze to the book again. "You are feeling much improved, I see."

"Yes, I. . . thank you." She faltered, feeling suddenly awkward, as if she was indeed intruding. She took several steps forward and clasped her hands behind her back. "If I may . . . might I have a word?"

Julian glanced up again, his black gaze swiftly running over her. "Yes?"

"It's about Sophie," she began, and Julian surprised her by slamming shut the book he held in his lap.

"Save your breath, Claudia. I am ill-disposed to discuss that little half-wit at the moment." With a scowl, he tossed the leather-bound volume onto the stack with the others.

"All right," she said carefully, and walked to the hearth where she pretended to look at a china vase.

"All right? That's it? Surely there was more you wanted to say," he snapped irritably.

Claudia stole a glance at him-he had folded his arms tightly across his chest. She had never seen him so angry and swallowed past a lump of sudden nerves. "Yes, there is more."

He snorted disdainfully. "Naturally there is. Well, then? Let's have this over with, shall we? Plead Sophie's case. Go on, then, Claudia-you wanted to tell me what a heartless cad I am, how it is her right to foolishly do as she pleases!"

Short-tempered and sarcastic, too, she thought uneasily. If there was one thing consistent about her husband, it was that he was always pleasant-roguish, but charmingly pleasant all the same. She took a steadying breath. "I merely wanted to inquire . . ."

"Yes?" he snapped impatiently.

". . . if you had ever had the pleasure of being in love."

That clearly stunned him, and good God, she had no idea where it had come from, no comprehension of how those words had found their way to her tongue. A palpable tension suddenly filled the room and Claudia cringed inwardly as the full weight of that tension pressed down on them. His gaze still locked on her, he removed his spectacles, carefully folded them, and deliberately stuffed them into a coat pocket. The only thing that belied his calm was the erratic leap of a muscle in his jaw.

"I have been foolish enough to love," he admitted quietly, "but I would hardly term it a pleasure."

Insane as it was, Claudia was suddenly wild to know just whom he had loved. A dozen names or more popped into her mind-debutantes, married ladies, widows, a host of names that had, at one time or another, been linked with his. But she bit her tongue, forced the thousand questions down, and nervously running the palms of her hands over the fabric of her gown, cleared her throat. "So . . . was there not a time you thought you might simply perish without her? Can you not understand, perhaps a little, how Sophie feels?"

Raw emotion glanced his hard features. Claudia's breath caught in her throat; she could swear it was pain that clouded his eyes. With some effort, he shoved to his feet. The look on his face, the expression of contempt- Lord God, how he despised her at this moment.

Alarm quickened her pulse as he strolled toward her. "What about you, Claudia? Was there ever a time you thought you might simply perish for want of a lover?" he mocked her. "Have you ever lain awake at night because his image haunts your sleep or been quite incapable of breathing because his mere presence has snatched the very air from your lungs?" He paused in front of her; heat flooded her, and she took an involuntary step backward.

"Well, Claudia? Do you understand how she feels?"

Staring at his glittering obsidian eyes, Claudia could not think clearly. "I. . . I understand . . ." Incredibly, the expression in his eyes hardened even more. "I understand that Sophie is in love, and to banish her now is unthinkable-"

"Let me tell you what is unthinkable," he interjected, his voice impossibly bitter. "It is unthinkable to believe that she may find some sort of salvation in love," he spat acidly. "It is unthinkable to believe that she may somehow improve her life by marrying for love! And madam, it is absurd to believe that such feelings are ever mutual, or that they elevate her situation to some loftier plane, or that they change one bloody thing about the goddam world! Trust me, the sooner the little nitwit realizes that her so-called love is an illusion, unrequited and unwanted, the better off she shall be!"

His voice carried such furious despair that Claudia could scarcely breathe. He had loved and lost, but before she could even grasp that thought, Julian seemed to read her mind, and with a smirk, turned away, strolling casually to the sideboard where he lifted a crystal decanter. "I rather imagine you believe in fairy tales, too," he drawled in a strangely hollow voice.

"You don't believe what you are saying, Julian. You don't believe that Sophie would be better off having never loved at all."

He chuckled darkly as he poured a sherry. "Ah, but I do, Claudia. The fallacy of love is that there are two who experience it, when in reality, it is rarely the case that even one is so inclined. And, I daresay, if one should feel . . . love . . . so strongly, one might very well smother the both of them with it." He paused, looked toward the window for a moment. "Or suffer from the want of it," he added roughly, and quickly downed the sherry.

The depth of emotion in that statement stunned her; she had the strong urge to wrap her arms around him and hold him tightly against her heart. It was impossible to believe-unfathomable, really-that Julian might have experienced heartbreak. She knew very well what it was to love someone and never have the affection returned, how lonely it was, how devastating. Incredibly, the expression on Julian's face reflected just that.

"Stanwood doesn't love her and he never will, Claudia," he said, still staring out the window.

"Is that not for Sophie to decide?" she asked gently.

"Absolutely not," he snapped, turning to face her. "He is a blackguard, a man of despicable morals, questionable tastes, and violent temperament! He is known to treat women cruelly, he hasn't a shilling to his name, and he wants her fortune, nothing else."

"But how would you truly know that?" she tried to reason.

"I know of his reputation, Claudia-"

"Reputation!" she exclaimed, shaking her head. "Do you know the horrible things that have been said of me? Lies and untruths! You can't possibly form your bad opinion of a man on the basis of gossip!"

His eyes narrowed dangerously. "Don't think to lecture me, madam."

"She loves him, Julian. If you banish her-"

"I am not banishing her!"

"Then what would you call it, sending her to Kettering Hall?"

Angrily, he stalked toward her. "I am keeping her safe and well! It is my responsibility to do so, and I will thank you not to interfere!"

"I am only trying to have a rational discussion-"

"I did not invite discussion. This is not another of your social debates, Claudia, it is my duty as her guardian and protector to decide what is best for my sister! Hell, it is my moral obligation! And it has nothing to do with you, so you might as well run along and find another charity to promote!"

He might as well have punched her in the gut. She leveled a heated gaze on her husband. "You do not value my opinion in this."

"Good God! Not only do I not value it, I couldn't possibly care less what it is!"

Her sympathy had quickly given away to furious indignation. "You promised to treat this marriage with respect-"

"I promised to save your reputation! Do not romanticize it," he said with a dismissive flick of his wrist.

Oh, God, there was no danger of that! With an angry toss of her head, she marched to the door. "Thank you, my lord, for your audience. I know it was quite an imposition on your time," she said. "I shall tell Sophie that she was right-you are a pig-headed beast! But I shall also tell her not to lose hope. We will find a way!"

"Splendid," he drawled, and gestured for her to leave. "Scheme away, why don't you. But she goes to Kettering Hall tonight. " With that, he seated himself and picked up the book he had been studying and opened it.

He was dismissing her, just as her father had done all her life, insinuating that she was more irritant than anything else. How the devil had she ever thought she cared for him? She turned sharply and sailed through the door, slamming it shut behind her and determined that Sophie would follow her heart in spite of his tyranny.

Julian felt the violent slam of the door as well as he heard it. He stared blankly at the pages in front of him, and after a moment, turned the book around so that it was right side up.

I just wanted to ask if you ever had the pleasure of being in love.

His chest constricted painfully with the discomfort; he closed his eyes, pressed his fingers into them. Was there never a time you thought you might simply perish without her?

Oh, yes, Claudia. Each and every day.

Damn her, he knew exactly how Sophie felt-it was one of the many reasons he wanted her away from London and Stanwood. She did not deserve to know the pain he felt, but deserved so much better than that, than Stanwood -except that the idiot girl thought so little of herself that she believed he was her best chance at happiness.