Page 48 of Dukes for Dessert

Within a week, Sophie decided to tell Dr. Gaspar about her circumstances. He deserved the truth, and she preferred to tell him her story before he learned it from the newspapers or whispers in the village.

She explained to him over breakfast, with Uncle Lucas’s approval. Dr. Gaspar listened with confusion in his brown eyes, and then sympathy. She included the fact that David claimed the marriage would end in annulment instead of divorce, but both events were a scandal, though the annulment was the lesser of the two evils.

Dr. Gaspar said little, to Sophie’s relief. That is, until later, when she bent over pieces of pottery in Uncle Lucas’s shed, trying to decide if any matched. The faint odor of cow lingered in the old byre, but it was faint enough to be a comforting, not off-putting, scent.

Dr. Gaspar filled the doorway, cutting off what little light had filtered inside. “Miss Tierney.” He cleared his throat, looking uncomfortable in the confined space. “I mean—I think—Lady Devonport?”

“Miss Tierney will do well,” Sophie said, sliding from the stool to her feet. “I suppose I had better become used to it. Is Uncle asking for me?”

She made for the door, wondering what task Uncle Lucas wished her to perform now, but Dr. Gaspar remained awkwardly in her way.

“I am grateful to you for taking me into your confidence, Miss Tierney.” He cleared his throat again, agony in his eyes.

Sophie shrugged as though none of it—her life, her reputation, her future—truly mattered. “Not at all. I knew you would hear the gossip before long.”

“It must be difficult for you.”

She gave him a wan smile. “A bit. But I hope it will be finished soon.”

“When it is …” Dr. Gaspar removed his hat, wiped his forehead, and set the hat back on his head. He glanced at the pottery pieces, coughed, rubbed his hands together, and took off his hat again. “When it is, Miss Tierney, I hope that you will do me the honor of becoming my wife.”

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Sophie stilled in astonishment, uncertain she’d heard aright. But no, Dr. Gaspar had just asked her to marry him and now waited in anxious anticipation for her answer.

“I beg your …” Sophie clutched the edge of the table. “Your wife?”

Gaspar nodded, seeming to gather courage from his blurted proposal.

“I know it is a surprise. But it distresses me to think of you ruined and pushed aside. You are a lovely woman, if you forgive my forwardness, and intelligent too—I haven’t met many ladies who know the difference between Ancient Babylon and Hellenistic Greece.” He gave a breathy laugh. “You would be handy when I return to the Near East—a man with a helpmeet who knows how to sort pottery would be …” He waved at the scattered pieces of clay. “Heavenly, I think.”

Sophie felt the world spin beneath her, the walls of the shed wavering. “I don’t … I …”

“I know I have sprung this upon you.” Dr. Gaspar’s lips quivered behind his thick beard. “But please contemplate my offer. You’ve declared you will be your uncle’s assistant, but I would hate to see you wasted as a spinster. You would regain respectability as a married woman—and a mother.”

He averted his gaze and blushed painfully as he spoke the last word.

Sophie opened her mouth to point out that he’d need to overcome his bashfulness if he wanted her to bear his children, but she shut it again.

She could say such things to David, and he’d laugh. Tease her, yes, but he wouldn’t faint in mortification. Dr. Gaspar might.

“You are very kind.” Sophie made her voice firm. “But I have not decided what I will do.”

“Of course, of course. You must wait for the courts.” Dr. Gaspar paused, still anxious. “When the legal issues are behind you, you will give me your answer?”

Sophie hated to hurt people’s feelings. Any idea that someone smarted inside because of her made her unhappy, but she understood that if she did not tell Dr. Gaspar the truth, he might persist for the next forty years. The archaeology world was small, and their paths would often cross.

“Forgive me,” she said, standing as straight as she could. “But my answer must be no. As I say, you are kind …”

Dr. Gaspar’s crestfallen look was difficult to bear. He removed his hat and turned it in his hands. “I see.” He chewed his upper lip. “You can give me no hope?”

Sophie shook her head. “I am sorry, but no. I pray you can forgive me, and we can continue to be friends.”

“Yes, yes.” He put on his hat again, pulling it down to his ears. “Beg pardon for disturbing you.”

Dr. Gaspar turned to leave. Sophie was about to let out a breath of relief when he turned back. “When you are unmarried once more—though the words sound strange—I will speak to you again. I daresay you will change your mind when you find yourself alone.”

He tipped his hat, though he had to scrape it from his head to do it, and finally slunk out.

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