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your oath."
    His smile vanished and his gaze hardened. He shoved his hands into the pockets
    of his gown and began to prowl slowly around her room. "We will not discuss my
    honor again. I assure you, it is an important matter to me and I would not do
    anything I felt would tarnish it."
    "You have your own definition of honor, then?"
    He gave her an angry glance. "I know far better how to define it than you do,
    Sophy."
    "I lack the ability to define it properly because I am merely a woman?"
    He relaxed, the faint smile edging his grim mouth again. "You are not merely a
    woman, my love. You are a most interesting female, believe me. I did not dream
    when I asked for your hand in marriage that I would be getting such a
    fascinating concoction. Did you know that there's a bit of lace dangling from
    your gown?"
    Sophy glanced down uneasily and was chagrined to see the lace flopping over her
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    breast. She made one or two fruitless efforts to push it back into place and
    then gave up. When she raised her head she found herself looking at Julian
    through a lock of hair that had slipped free of its pins. Irritably she pushed
    it back behind her ear. She drew herself up proudly.
    "Would you care for a cup of tea, my lord?"
    His smile broadened indulgently and Julian's eyes became very green. "Thank you,
    Sophy. After all the port I allowed myself after dinner, a cup of tea would be
    most welcome. I would not want to fall asleep at an awkward moment. You would be
    quite disappointed, I'm sure."
    Arrogant man, she thought as she poured the brew with shaking fingers. He was
    interpreting her offer of tea as a gesture of surrender, she just knew it. A
    moment later when she handed him the cup he accepted it the way she imagined a
    battlefield commander accepted the sword of the vanquished.
    "What an interesting aroma. Your own mixture, Sophy?" Julian took a sip of tea
    and resumed prowling her room.
    "Yes." The word seemed to get caught somewhere in her throat. She watched with
    sick fascination as he took another sip. "Chamomile and… and other flowers. It
    has a very soothing effect on nerves that have become somewhat over agitated."
    Julian nodded absently. "Excellent.' He paused in front of the little rosewood
    desk to study the handful of books she had carefully arranged there. "Ah, the
    lamentable reading material of my bluestocking bride. Let me see just how
    regrettable your tastes really are."
    He pulled first one and then another of the leather-bound volumes off the shelf.
    He helped himself to a second sip of tea while he studied the engraved leather
    bindings. "Hm. Virgil and Aristotle in translation. Admittedly a bit
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    overpowering for the average reader but not really all that terrible. I used to
    read this sort of thing myself."
    "I'm glad you approve, my lord," Sophy said stiffly.
    He glanced at her, amused. "Do you find me condescending, Sophy?"
    "Very."
    "I don't mean to be, you know. I'm merely curious about you." He replaced the
    classics and removed another volume. "What else have we here? Wesley's Primitive
    Physic? A rather dated work, is it not?"
    "Still an excellent herbal, my lord. With much detail about English herbs.
    Grandfather gave it to me."
    "Ah, yes. Herbs." He put the book down and picked up another volume. He smiled
    indulgently. "Well, now, I see Lord Byron's romantic nonsense has made its way
    into the countryside. Did you enjoy Childe Harold, Sophy?'
    "I found it very entertaining, my lord. What about you?"
    He grinned unabashedly at the open challenge. "I'll admit I read it and I'll
    admit the man has a way with melodrama, but, then he comes from a long line of
    melodramatic fools. I fear we shall hear more from Byron's melancholy heroes."
    "At least the man is not dull. I understand Lord Byron is quite the rage in
    London," Sophy said