dropped all
the stray bits of ribbon inside.
As he handed the purse back to her he experienced the disquieting sensation that
he had just opened Pandora's box.
THREE
Midway through the second week of her honeymoon on Julian's Norfolk estate,
Sophy began to fear that she had married a man who had a serious problem with
his after-dinner port.
Up until that point she had tentatively begun to enjoy her wedding trip.
Eslington Park was situated against a serene backdrop of wooded knolls and lush
pasture lands. The house itself was stolid and dignified in the classically
inspired Palladian tradition that had been fashionable during the last century.
There was an aging, heavy feel to the interior but Sophy thought there was hope
for the well-proportioned rooms with their tall windows. She looked forward to
doing some redecorating.
In the meantime she had gloried in daily rides with Julian during which they
explored the woods, meadows, and rich farmlands he had recently acquired. He had
introduced her to his newly appointed steward, John Fleming, and seemed
positively grateful when Sophy took no offense at the long hours he spent
plotting the future of Eslington Park with the earnest young man.
Julian had also taken pains to introduce Sophy, as well as himself, to all the
tenants on the property. He had seemed pleased when Sophy had admired sheep and
assorted specimens of agricultural produce with a knowledgeable eye. There are
some advantages to being country-bred, Sophy privately decided. At least such a
woman had something intelligent to say to a husband who obviously had a love for
the land.
More than once Sophy found herself wondering if Julian would ever develop a
similar love for his new bride.
The tenants and neighbors had been in suspense awaiting the arrival of their new
lord. But after Julian had accompanied several of the farmers into barns with
total disregard for the polish on his elegant riding boots, the word went around
that the new master of Eslington knew what he was about when it came to farming
and sheep raising.
Sophy was readily accepted after she had cooed over a few plump babies, frowned
in deep concern over a few sick ones, and held several learned discussions on
the subject of the use of local herbs in home remedies. More than once Julian
had been obliged to wait patiently while his wife exchanged a recipe for a cough
syrup or a digestive aid with a farmer's wife.
He seemed to find it amusing to remove bits of straw from Sophy's hair after she
had emerged from the close confines of a small cottage.
"You are going to make me a fine wife, Sophy," he had remarked with satisfaction
during the third day of such visiting. "I chose well this time."
Sophy had hugged her pleasure at his words to herself and managed a laughing
smile. "By that remark, I collect you mean I have the potential to become a good
farmer's wife?"
"When all is said and done, that is precisely what I am, Sophy. A farmer." He
had looked out over the landscape with the pride of a man who knows he owns
everything he sees. "And a good farm wife will suit me well."
"You speak as if I will someday become this paragon," she had pointed out
softly. "I would remind you that I am already your wife."
He had flashed her the devil's own smile. "Not yet, my sweet, but soon. Much
sooner than you had planned."
The staff at Eslington Park was well trained and commendably efficient, although
Sophy privately winced when servants nearly tripped over their own feet
endeavoring to anticipate Julian's orders. They were obviously wary of their new
master, although simultaneously proud to serve such an important man.
They had heard the rumors of his quick, ruthless temper from the coachman,
groom, valet, and lady's maid who had accompanied Lord and Lady Ravenwood to
Eslington, however, and were taking no chances.
All in all, the honeymoon was going quite well. The only thing that had marred
her stay in Norfolk
the stray bits of ribbon inside.
As he handed the purse back to her he experienced the disquieting sensation that
he had just opened Pandora's box.
THREE
Midway through the second week of her honeymoon on Julian's Norfolk estate,
Sophy began to fear that she had married a man who had a serious problem with
his after-dinner port.
Up until that point she had tentatively begun to enjoy her wedding trip.
Eslington Park was situated against a serene backdrop of wooded knolls and lush
pasture lands. The house itself was stolid and dignified in the classically
inspired Palladian tradition that had been fashionable during the last century.
There was an aging, heavy feel to the interior but Sophy thought there was hope
for the well-proportioned rooms with their tall windows. She looked forward to
doing some redecorating.
In the meantime she had gloried in daily rides with Julian during which they
explored the woods, meadows, and rich farmlands he had recently acquired. He had
introduced her to his newly appointed steward, John Fleming, and seemed
positively grateful when Sophy took no offense at the long hours he spent
plotting the future of Eslington Park with the earnest young man.
Julian had also taken pains to introduce Sophy, as well as himself, to all the
tenants on the property. He had seemed pleased when Sophy had admired sheep and
assorted specimens of agricultural produce with a knowledgeable eye. There are
some advantages to being country-bred, Sophy privately decided. At least such a
woman had something intelligent to say to a husband who obviously had a love for
the land.
More than once Sophy found herself wondering if Julian would ever develop a
similar love for his new bride.
The tenants and neighbors had been in suspense awaiting the arrival of their new
lord. But after Julian had accompanied several of the farmers into barns with
total disregard for the polish on his elegant riding boots, the word went around
that the new master of Eslington knew what he was about when it came to farming
and sheep raising.
Sophy was readily accepted after she had cooed over a few plump babies, frowned
in deep concern over a few sick ones, and held several learned discussions on
the subject of the use of local herbs in home remedies. More than once Julian
had been obliged to wait patiently while his wife exchanged a recipe for a cough
syrup or a digestive aid with a farmer's wife.
He seemed to find it amusing to remove bits of straw from Sophy's hair after she
had emerged from the close confines of a small cottage.
"You are going to make me a fine wife, Sophy," he had remarked with satisfaction
during the third day of such visiting. "I chose well this time."
Sophy had hugged her pleasure at his words to herself and managed a laughing
smile. "By that remark, I collect you mean I have the potential to become a good
farmer's wife?"
"When all is said and done, that is precisely what I am, Sophy. A farmer." He
had looked out over the landscape with the pride of a man who knows he owns
everything he sees. "And a good farm wife will suit me well."
"You speak as if I will someday become this paragon," she had pointed out
softly. "I would remind you that I am already your wife."
He had flashed her the devil's own smile. "Not yet, my sweet, but soon. Much
sooner than you had planned."
The staff at Eslington Park was well trained and commendably efficient, although
Sophy privately winced when servants nearly tripped over their own feet
endeavoring to anticipate Julian's orders. They were obviously wary of their new
master, although simultaneously proud to serve such an important man.
They had heard the rumors of his quick, ruthless temper from the coachman,
groom, valet, and lady's maid who had accompanied Lord and Lady Ravenwood to
Eslington, however, and were taking no chances.
All in all, the honeymoon was going quite well. The only thing that had marred
her stay in Norfolk
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