Theo Burgess came up with the way to do it. For the first time in a very long time, Sophie laughed.
It was very late. Sophie arrived at the cottage. David's horse was tethered outside. When she entered he saluted her with a rum punch. He didn't appear too drunk yet. That should make it easier.
He rose immediately to embrace her. She danced away from him, laughing, her hands in front of her. "No, David, first we must talk."
"Talk," he said blankly. "How very strange you've become. Why talk?"
"I have something to tell you. It's only fair that you know the truth since I am very fond of you. I don't want you to be hurt, to perhaps go mad as many do, I am told."
Lord David drank the rest of his rum punch. "This is talk," he said, "talk that is very curious. What do you mean, Sophie?"
"I have the pox."
He turned utterly white. "No!"
"Yes," she said in a low, very sad voice. "The pox. There is no doubt."
"You didn't get it from me, damn you!"
"Oh no, certainly not. If I had, I wouldn't have to warn you, would I now?"
"Oh God," he said and actually moaned. "What if you've given it to me?"
"I don't think that would have been possible, not yet. You are still safe. But
I fear it wouldn't be wise for us to continue as lovers."
He looked wildly about the small cottage where he'd spent a good dozen nights over the past two months. He looked at her, wondering, wondering at the strange fancies, the odd fragments of dreams, as he sometimes did when he was sober enough to assemble his thoughts coherently. But now, those fancies were nothing, less than nothing. Jesus, the pox!
"I'll go now, Sophie. I'm sorry. Good-bye."
"Good-bye, David. Don't worry. You'll be all right."
She watched him grab his hat, smash it on his head. He was actually running from the cottage, then galloping as if the great green serpent itself was after him. In this instance, Uncle Theo had been quite right.
She wondered if he was also right about David's reaction once he calmed down.
"He won't say a word to anyone. We needn't worry about that. No, he'll fear ridicule if he does. When he finds out that he hasn't caught anything, why then he'll look at the other men and just smile and wish them the worst. That is his character, you know."
"He's that kind of man," Sophie said.
Before she fell asleep that night, Sophie wondered how Ryder Sherbrooke would have reacted had she told him she had the pox. She had an idea he would search her face for the truth then demand to examÂine her himself.
He was that kind of man.
CHAPTER
4
EMILE TOLD Ryder upon his return from Montego Bay late the following morning that Lord David Lochridge was no longer one of Sophia Stanton-Greville's lovers.
Ryder blinked. "Good heavens, she's worked very quickly. Astonishing, I would say, but difficult to accept. Didn't you tell me he was at her cottage just two nights ago?"
Emile grinned, pushed back a chair and sat down. "You don't suppose she's clearing out all the flotsam for you, do you?"
Ryder was thoughtful for a long moment. He said finally, very firmly, "One could be tempted to think so at first blush. However, I still can't see her doing something so blatant. She's a subtle female when she sees it is called for and, more importantly, she isn't stupid. She's many things, but not stupid."
"Really, Ryder, perhaps you're entirely wrong. PerÂhaps she wants to bed you. Perhaps she admires you and wants you, pure and simple. No ulterior motives. You aren't a troll, you know."