Nothing about their impromptu visit, what David had been up to in London, Sophie’s divorce, or David’s triumph regarding her annulment.
Once conversation surrounding David’s house had been exhausted, Pierson went on at length about the dig and his Roman villa. Dr. Gaspar had proved so competent that Pierson had been comfortable leaving the excavation in the man’s hands for a few days. Though, he added with amusement, a villa of Roman Britain was a bit too modern for Gaspar’s tastes.
Sophie also looked pleased with Dr. Gaspar’s expertise, to David’s irritation. He needed to speak with her.
“A stroll?” he suggested after the meal had finished. Light lingered in the sky even if a brisk breeze had sprung up.
Pierson brightened, then caught on that David meant a walk with Sophie alone. “A bit chilly for me,” he said quickly. “I’d love a rummage through your library.”
The efficient Thomas, in charge of the sparsely staffed house, led him off, Pierson chattering excitedly all the way. This left David to escort Sophie, once they’d fetched wraps, out to the terrace. David glanced at the lighted windows of the library, which showed Dr. Pierson avidly looking over books packed onto a tall shelf.
“I never knew he could dissemble so well,” he remarked. “I suppose that’s a good trait in a vicar.”
“Yes, Uncle is full of surprises.” Sophie’s words were light but stiff.
David could think of nothing to reply so he led her unhurriedly down the steps to the main garden, where lingering twilight touched pale flowers.
“Beautiful in the summer,” David said as they walked side-by-side, not touching. “Fountains play, birds sing, the trees are green. Absolute paradise. Or so I remember as a child.”
“Do you not come here for summers now?” Sophie’s face softened. “It is incredibly lovely. You are lucky.”
“No, I’m usually flitting about Britain or the Continent, doing errands for Hart. All part of the game.”
He heard weariness in his voice that he never meant to put there. Only a few years ago, he’d thrived on the game, chasing down men reluctant to help Hart with his schemes, campaigning for his own seat in Commons. What had changed?
“Well, one day you must come for the summer and enjoy it,” Sophie said.
David halted. “Are you feeling quite well, Miss Tierney?”
Sophie turned from admiring the view. “Ever so robust. Why?”
“You aren’t teasing me, twitting me, or telling me I’m an ungrateful wretch for throwing everything my father built to the wind.”
Her faint smile made his heart turn over. “I don’t need to. You’ve just done it yourself.”
“And I’d say you are right.”
Sophie stood very still, the night breeze stirring the curls on her forehead, peeping from under her fetching fur hat. “Is that why you rushed away to London? Something to do with your estate? And why you returned today?”
“Pardon?” David made himself cease watching the way Sophie’s lips moved, which only enticed him to kiss them. “No, indeed. I went to London to see about your annulment.”
All color left her cheeks. “You mean my divorce. Which I asked you to leave alone.”
David faced her squarely. “I know you asked me, but of course I could not. And you will have an annulment. The solicitors have all the papers now and it only awaits the verdict of a judge.”
13
Sophie’s breath left her, her lacings suddenly far too tight. She turned swiftly as she coughed, seeking air.
David was beside her in an instant. “My dearest Sophie, forgive this wretch for springing the news on you so callously. But it is the truth. We can rejoice.”
Spots swam before Sophie’s eyes, but she found her voice. “You are wrong. My husband will never let me go that easily.”
“Oh, but he will. With the Scots Machine and Hart Mackenzie on your side, the proceedings will take mere weeks, not the months it does for lesser mortals.”
“You don’t know Laurie,” Sophie said, shaking her head. “He does as he pleases, and he wants to humiliate me. I did not fill his nursery like the dutiful wife I was supposed to be. He is punishing me for that.”
Somehow David’s hand was on her arm, holding her up. “If I may say so, Lackwit underestimates me and Hart, not to mention Sinclair McBride. The marriage will be annulled, you may trust me on that. I’ll spare you the sordid details—believe me, they are sordid—but Lackwit will keep his mouth shut to protect himself.”