“I suppose Sophie didn’t want to destroy her relationship with her father.”
“You suppose. But you don’t know anything about it, Lydia.”
“Then tell me.”
Karl-Heinz reached for her and cupped her elbow in a steadying hand. It felt like a warning.
“Sophie found out she was pregnant.”
Lydia clapped her hands to her mouth. No, don’t tell me, she wanted to plead, but she couldn’t.
“Of course, her father wanted her to terminate, but she refused. She was convinced the child was Milan’s and she was still in love with him. She went to tell him about it and he sent her away. He didn’t want to know. The game was over for him and he didn’t want anything more to do with her.”
“Are you…sure about this?”
“Of course I’m sure. She was devastated, almost suicidal, but she clung on to the thought that, when the baby was born, he would come back to her. The baby was a boy. I insisted on having a DNA test to establish paternity—he was mine.”
“Oh God,” said Lydia. “Oh God. He was your son. So, what happened? You and Sophie aren’t together.”
“No, of course, she didn’t want me. And she didn’t want the child either, once she knew he wasn’t Milan’s. She had post-natal depression and she never managed to bond with him. When he was six months old, she handed him over to me. He was brought up by my mother. Sophie has suffered with poor mental health ever since. She has never held down a job or a relationship. So, if anyone’s life has been ruined…”
The appalled silence was broken by a ringing of the doorbell.
“Who the hell is that?” grumbled Hackmeyer. “I can hardly send one of the staff to the door if it’s a census taker or something. Karl-Heinz, you’re sensibly dressed. Would you mind very much?”
“Of course.”
He looked rather relieved to have an excuse to leave the table, thought Lydia. She had ruined the sexy mood now. They might as well all go home.
“I’ve rather put a dampener on the party, haven’t I?” she said apologetically.
“You needed to know the truth,” said Hackmeyer with a reassuring smile. “Kaspar has many secrets. You deserve to know them, if you are going to be with him.”
“Be with whom?”
The double doors crashed open and Milan stood between them, glaring down at the assembled company.
Chapter Twelve
“I don’t recall inviting you,” said Hackmeyer icily.
“I’m not staying,” said Milan. “I’ve just come for Lydia. Let’s go.”
He held out his hand to Lydia, who sat as if turned to stone, staring at him.
“Kaspar,” said Karl-Heinz in a more conciliatory tone. He stood and moved towards the gatecrasher. “This is not a good idea.”
“Nothing that happens in this house is a good idea,” he replied with a snarl. “Lydia. Come.” His tone was more urgent now and Lydia half-rose.
“Don’t,” snapped Karl-Heinz, turning to her.
“If you were hoping to pre-empt Julius telling the truth about you,” said Sarah calmly, “you’re too late. She knows the full story of Sophie and Jean-Marc.”
“Jean-Marc, the child you handed to you mother and ignored for the rest of his life?” Milan laughed and tossed his hair.
Julius rose, his face transfigured with rage.
“Don’t bother,” said Milan. “I suppose you don’t know that Jean-Marc wrote to me? We met up while I was in Prague earlier this year. I went to visit Sophie. You haven’t seen her since the child was born, I gather.”