A Rogue Meets a Scandalous Lady: Mackenzies, Book 11 Page 7

  David shook his head. “Lifelong bachelor, me.”

  “Too bad, old man. Domestic bliss has its place.”

  He waved David to a chair. David took it, letting his gaze go to the bookshelves around him, which were filled with erudite tomes. “Domestic bliss, eh? Aren’t you charging through courts to obtain a divorce?”

  Laurie waved that away and resumed his seat behind the desk. “Only because the woman I chose decided to hurt me in the most scurrilous way. Fortunately, I have met another lady who will make me very happy.”

  “How lucky for you.” David’s gaze rested on a book on the nearest shelf. “Erasmus Darwin. Interesting. His translation of Linnaeus changed botany as we know it, do you not think? And he was far ahead of his time in his opinions on the education of women.”

  Laurie’s brow furrowed. “Never knew he was interested in women. Can’t agree with him that men are descended from monkeys. He simply met too many monkeys when he traveled around the world, I wager. Loneliness and wishful thinking, more like.” He snorted a laugh.

  “Mmm.” David forbore to explain that, while related, Erasmus Darwin and Charles Darwin were two different people, the younger born several years after the elder, his grandfather, had died. “As interested as I am in natural history, my visit is of a different nature.”

  “Yes, indeed. Why have you come? Does the Duke of Kilmorgan want my backing on one of his daft bills? He’ll never win us over, no matter how many Highland dances he performs. Tell him to go back to Scottish-land and eat haggis.” Another snort, Laurie fond of his own wit.

  David again decided to keep silent, this time on the fact that he too was Scots and preferred beefsteak and vegetable soufflé to sheep’s innards.

  “My request is of a more personal nature,” David said, draping his arm comfortably over the back of the Louis XV chair. “I have a favor to ask, man to man, one Harrow boy to another.”

  “I remember you and Hart being great bullies at Harrow,” Laurie said. “To me, I mean. Well, to most not fortunate enough to be in your circle.”

  “As you say, boys can be cruel.” David spread one hand. “Males are thoughtless at that age, without the learning, experience, and gentler sentiments we acquire once we become men. I can only apologize.”

  Laurie gave him a nod, a smug one. He’d obviously thought David had come to grovel, to beg the condescension of a lofty earl.

  The thought of this man touching Sophie made David’s blood boil, but he held himself in check. He could only accomplish what he needed by remaining cool-headed.

  “What is this favor?” Laurie asked the question with the air of a man who could make one’s dreams come true or shatter them in a blow.

  “Miss Tierney. Your wife.”

  Laurie frowned. “You mean Lady Devonport.”

  “What is in a name?” David smiled as Laurie looked befuddled at the question. “You see, my dear fellow, I am slightly acquainted with Miss Tierney. She is the niece of an old friend of mine. This friend is most distressed for her.”

  “You know my wife?” Sudden rage crossed Laurie’s face. “Good Lord, have you come to offer your testimony of crim con as well?”

  David pretended to look puzzled, tamping down his desire to punch Laurie’s protruding nose. That Laurie instantly believed David had tumbled Sophie increased the boiling inside him.

  He kept his tone calm. “You mean have I had criminal conversation with Miss Tierney? No, no. You misunderstand me. I barely know the gel. But my friend, he was like a father to me, and I hate to see him unhappy. I am here to ask, on his behalf, for you to give up the divorce.”

  Laurie blinked. Not what he’d expected. Laurie settled into his chair, which he’d half risen out of, looking thoughtful. “I am sorry your friend is distressed, but I have already begun the proceeding. My wife, sadly, is an adulteress. I have two of her lovers willing to appear in court and say so.”

  David came out of his slouch and sat forward, changing from old acquaintance begging for a favor to the man who would take charge of the room.

  “Now, old chap, you and I both know Miss Tierney is nothing of the sort,” David said. “The gentlemen who are testifying to the crim con are friends of yours, paid handsomely for their efforts. Their reputations will not suffer too much, and they’ll be rewarded for coming to your aid. I know all this, because I’ve spoken to them, and both confessed everything to me.” Sinclair and Eleanor had many connections, and had helped David make appointments besides this one.

  Laurie flushed, uneasiness settling upon him. “Does it matter? My marriage is at an end. If the dear laws of England would let me finish it without all this mess, I certainly would.”

  “Yes, declaring ‘I divorce you,’ three times and tossing her out of your tent would be much easier.”

  “Quite.” Laurie clearly did not understand the reference, just as he had no idea what was inside any of the books in this wonderful library. “But I must take my wife to court, or I will not be free to remarry.”

  “And that is the crux of the matter, is it not?” David pinned Laurie with a gaze worthy of Basher McBride. “You wish to marry another. I understand that. Therefore, you must legally end your current marriage. But have you not thought of annulment? There will still be legal papers to wade through, but annulment is much less scandalous. You and Miss Tierney have no children to worry about, is that correct? None to become suddenly illegitimate when the marriage is declared invalid?”

  “No sons, no.” Laurie scowled. “No offense to your friend, but his niece never came up to scratch in that way.”

  David raised his brows. The rage inside him danced about, seeking release. He had already decided how to let it out, in a way it would be most effective, but it was difficult not to simply grab Laurie and bang his face into his desk.

  “Really?” David drawled. “Or is it that your little man isn’t up to the task?”

  Laurie’s expression went dark. “Of course that is not the case. Why would you even suppose such a thing? When children don’t come, it is the woman’s fault. Childbearing is up to them.”

  David could put forth plenty of medical arguments to prove Laurie wrong, but he let the statement pass. “So, no children whose lives you will ruin. Then why not annulment?”

  “An annulment is not such a simple thing,” Laurie said impatiently. “To declare a marriage invalid is difficult. There are certain conditions that must be met. Trust me, I looked into it.”

  “Yes, I do imagine your solicitors with their heads together day and night scheming, scheming. Let me see, if I recall, the conditions are …”

  David paused as though trying to remember, but he knew damn well what they were. Sinclair had gone over the process of annulment with him meticulously, but David was more interested in what Lackwit Laurie knew.

  “One is if we are too closely related,” Laurie finished for him. “I studied our family trees, and Lady Devonport and I are not even remotely connected.” He looked disdainful. “Her family is far inferior to mine, which I should have noted long before she dazzled me.”

  David barely refrained from spitting at him. He touched his fingers, counting off. “Very well, then. That possibility has been wiped away. Next?”

  “That we have already contracted a previous marriage. I had not.” Laurie pressed his hands to his chest, a virtuous man.

  “What about Miss Tierney? You could not find a marriage in her past—or at least, invent one?”

  “I thought of that.” Laurie looked regretful. “But claiming she married another before me—that would have to be proved.”

  “Yes, I can see it would be ticklish. You’d have to produce documentation, witnesses, perhaps the vicar who performed the service. Even if Miss Tierney had married on the Continent, a judge here would want to send for the documents there.”

  “I say, why do you keep referring to her as Miss Tierney?” Laurie looked affronted. “She is still my wife, at least legally, for now.”

 
“Because if you annul the marriage, as I believe you can, she will never have been the Countess of Devonport. Therefore, her true name is Miss Tierney.”

  Lackwit had to work through that. “I see.”

  “Let us resume—Miss Tierney is not a close relation. Nor is she currently married to another. I would choose the next point on which a marriage can be annulled—insanity—on your part, I mean—but alas, that also would require testimony. And Miss Tierney was of marriageable age when you wedded—too many witnesses to that.” David touched his last finger, unable to hide his glee. “But I believe another reason for annulment is …”

  “What?” Laurie said irritably. “We have run through them all. Except …” His face went red as he realized where David was leading him.

  “Yes, indeed,” David said, and pronounced the word with satisfaction. “Impotence.”

  “On her part, yes,” Laurie snapped. “But still, it is—”

  “No, no, old chap. You mistake me,” David interrupted in a hard voice. He smiled into Laurie’s face, a cold, angry smile. “Of course I mean the impotent one is you.”

  Chapter 7

  Lackwit Laurie stared in such bafflement that David couldn’t hold in his laughter. The man’s resemblance to a stuffed fish at the moment was hilarious.

  Laurie coughed. “But I am not …” He held his fist to his mouth and wheezed. “You know.”

  “Flaccid as a deflated balloon?” David suggested. “Limp as a drowned worm? Are you certain?” He made a show of glancing about the room. “I see no sons or daughters crawling around your house. No by-blows from your mistresses. I’ve investigated this point. Are you certain you are up to scratch, old son?”

  “Of course I’m not impotent!” Laurie’s voice rang out. “What the devil are you playing at?”

  “You could pretend to be. To obtain the annulment.”

  Laurie was up from his desk, advancing on David. David made a show of taking his time to rise to meet him.

  “You two-faced blackguard!” Laurie snarled. “You’re her lover, aren’t you? You want me to back off so you can have her. Well, I refuse.” He stepped to David, putting himself nearly nose to nose with him—not difficult as Laurie’s stuck out so far. “There will be no annulment. I will divorce her and cover her with so much muck, even you will be disgraced if you take her. You’ve tipped your hand, my friend.”

  David’s gaze was steady. “You always were a bit slow, weren’t you, Devonport? An annulment will save you reams of cash. Why do you care what your wife gets up to after that? You will have no blemish on your character and can marry whom you choose.”

  “What the devil are you talking about? I can’t make a case for impotence.” Laurie flinched at the word. “Such a thing must be proved, and it never will be. Please, do your worst. Send a lovely courtesan or even a homely midwife to come to me and touch my prick. It will bounce forth in all its glory and your impotent theory will be dust.”

  “An excellent idea.” David pretended to brighten. “I will make a bargain with you. If a lady can get you stiff—and she agrees to bear witness to a judge that you’re flowing like a virile man—I will withdraw the idea. But, if she proves we should change your name to Limp-Prick Laurie, you will have your marriage annulled, announce to the world that Miss Tierney was falsely accused, and go your merry way. Your wealthy widow might think twice about marrying a man who can’t please her in the bedchamber, but that is the risk you’ll have to take.”

  Laurie stepped back, his smile huge and disquieting. “You have made a bad choice, Fleming. I will accept the bargain and enjoy squashing you. I’ll have Devilish David in court as one copulating happily with my wife, and be damned to you—and to her.”

  David raised his brows. “Devilish David doesn’t have the sting of Lackwit Laurie, does it? Or Limp-Prick Laurie as I will call you from now on.” David stuck out his hand. “I believe we have an agreement. I will send my solicitor to draw it up formally if you like. Then you will … er, you know … be put to the test.”

  “I look forward to it,” Laurie said in hearty tones.

  “I dare say.”

  David and Laurie shook on it, Laurie trying not to hide a wince as David strengthened his grip. David turned away, taking up the walking stick he’d leaned on the chair and making for the door.

  “You’re a bloody fool.” Laurie always did have to put in the last word. “And I shall prove it.”

  David continued into the hall. “There is a reason we call you Lackwit, you ass,” he muttered.

  “What was that?”

  David turned back, raising his voice. “I said, I wish you good day, old sass.”

  Laurie nodded stiffly. “And you.”

  David grinned as he went down the stairs, his steps light. He took his hat and greatcoat from the footman, slinging them on as he ducked out into the pounding rain, whistling a merry tune.

  * * *

  Sophie decided that kneeling in the mud, hacking at a mound of dirt, was no bad thing. In the last few days, she and Uncle had turned up a few more loose tiles, one black, one the brilliant red of heart’s blood. A floor lay somewhere under here, Uncle Lucas vowed.

  As impatient as he was, Uncle would not simply plow down until he found it. Modern archaeology was not a treasure hunt, he declared, but a search for knowledge of the past. Even so, Sophie knew Uncle longed to find his villa before he grew too elderly to enjoy it.

  She sat back on her heels, glad of the tarp that shielded her from the worst of the muck, and wiped her brow. More to do before teatime.

  A movement across the field caught her eye, and Sophie froze, a clod of earth dropping from the trowel to her skirt.

  He’d said he wasn’t coming back. Had shouted it. Sophie climbed stiffly to her feet, heart pounding as the unmistakable form of David Fleming tramped toward her. Dismaying how quickly she’d learned his walk and way of moving.

  Uncle Lucas dropped his spade and rushed forward, peppering David with delighted greetings. Sophie remained where she was, as though the mud cemented her feet in place.

  “Thought you’d disappeared for good, my dear fellow,” Uncle Lucas said as he and David moved toward Sophie. “Leaving me to wonder when you’d turn up again.”

  “Like a bad penny.” David’s self-deprecating drawl cut through the wind. “Found your villa yet?”

  “More pieces of it.” Uncle Lucas tried and failed to hide his excitement. “Sophie is most clever at discovering relevant bits. She is officially my assistant now, so treat her with respect. Also compassion for putting up with me.”

  “Excellent.” David rested his gaze on Sophie, his gray-blue eyes holding a heat that had nothing to do with his polite words. “I am certain she will do far better than anyone else you allow on your dig. Including me.”

  Sophie warmed to the sincerity in David’s words, but she suspected he was thinking, as she was, about the kiss. At least, she was picturing the kiss with intensity, her lips burning as though he’d just lifted his mouth away.

  Then again, he was a libertine, Uncle had told her. David must kiss ladies and walk away from them all the time. He might have already forgotten their spontaneous embrace.

  She realized both men were staring at her, awaiting her response. “It is very good to see you back,” she blurted. Oh dear, like a besotted schoolgirl. “Uncle missed you, though he does not like to say so.”

  Uncle Lucas sent David a sheepish grin. “I might have let on that I enjoy having you about.”

  David gave him a mock bow. “You flatter me, sir. I shall be certain to return often—you are good for my pride.”

  Uncle shook his head in despair. “One day you will learn to gracefully accept a compliment from your friends. I say we adjourn for tea. We’ve done enough here today, and the weather is turning colder.”

  Clouds had blotted out the sun and now a fine mist began to fall, coating grass, earth, the tarp, and the three humans foolish enough to be out in it.

  David st
epped to Sophie and offered his arm. “Miss Tierney? Shall I see you home?”

  He had a strange insistence on calling her Miss Tierney, not that Sophie minded. She’d never quite believed herself as the Countess of Devonport, and she soon would no longer be.

  She wished Uncle had cut in to escort her, but he only waited, looking pleased at David’s politeness. Sophie closed her fingers on the crook of David’s arm, her knees going shaky at the strength beneath the wool. She’d end up flat on her face if she weren’t careful.

  David said little as they tramped back to the vicarage. Uncle Lucas kept up a stream of talk about the dig and his speculations, never inquiring what David had been up to in London or why he’d returned. Sophie said nothing at all, not trusting herself to speak.

  Not long later, they gathered around the table in the warm dining room. Mrs. Corcoran brought out a lavish tea of sandwiches, scones, soup, and divine cakes, not seeming to mind that they’d come in early. Sophie’s curls were still damp from hurried ablutions in her room—her haste to wash off her grubbiness and rush back to David unnerved her.

  He sat across from her now, as he’d done the first morning of his stay. Today his dark hair was neatly combed, the red in it imperceptible in the gloom of the afternoon. His suit looked new, fresh from the tailor, a long frock coat and loosely tied cravat which were the height of fashion.

  After maddening civil conversation—dissecting the weather, the slowness of certain trains, the thick pall of London—David turned to Sophie, color brushing his cheeks.

  “A bit of good news for you, Miss Tierney. Lackwit Laurie—the Earl of Devonport, that is—will no longer be pursuing a divorce. Or at least, I predict he will decide this within the next week or so.”

  Sophie had plucked up a piece of sponge cake from the tray. At his words it fell from her numb fingers to the tablecloth, a puff of icing sugar bursting from it like white mist.

  “Oh.” Her fingers remained in the air, unable to move. “How …”

  This should be the finest news she could wish for. No divorce meant no trial, no gentlemen standing before a judge swearing they’d been her lovers. Her reputation might continue to be smeared by the rumors, but not destroyed by the certainty. A divorced woman never recovered from the shame.