Johanna Lindsay - The Heir

Hilary and Alice were disappointed that Sabrina hadn't been invited, and even had a row about it. Not that they thought she might catch the eye of the future marquis, but because all the other eligible young men would be at a party that size. Sabrina was disheartened herself, but not for the same reason. She simply regretted the lost opportunity to see Duncan MacTavish again, after enjoying so much her first encounter with him.

But now here was Ophelia, back in Yorkshire, and most likely she didn't have an invitation to Summers Glade either. Once Sabrina's initial surprise subsided, she could only wonder why, and that was the first thing she inquired about, in her less-than-direct fashion, as she joined Ophelia in the room she had been given and got the greetings out of the way.

"I would have thought you would be glad to be back in London where all the excitement is," Sabrina said.

Ophelia all but snapped, "When just about all of London happens to be here just now?"

Sabrina raised a brow at the tone. Ophelia might be here, but apparently she didn't really want to be here, so what the devil was she doing here? Unless ...

"You've been invited back to Summers Glade then? Have they just run out of room—?"

"Don't be obtuse," Ophelia retorted. "Of course I wouldn't be invited back there. I've come here to hide, if you really must know, and to see what can be done to rectify this appalling situation."

Sabrina was having trouble keeping up with Ophelia's thought processes. "Hide from whom? Your parents? Don't they know you've come here?"

"I swear, Sabrina, you can be annoyingly dense," Ophelia said unkindly. "My parents don't care where I go. They are most displeased with me just now. My father even slapped me. Can you believe that? He slapped me! For which I will never, ever forgive him."

"Then you are hiding from them?"

Ophelia threw herself down on the bed with a very loud sigh, indicating that she was done explaining things to people who didn't have sense enough to understand her. Sabrina didn't take offense. She'd witnessed this type of theatrics from the London girl enough to not be impressed by them, though she would allow, Ophelia didn't seem to be pretending this time. She really did seem upset.

Sabrina chose not to comment further. Silence did have a surprising effect on Ophelia. More often than not, it tended to get her to come right to the point of a discussion without any further prompting, where otherwise, she would go round and round a subject until her listeners were ready to expire from curiosity—or exasperation.

This time was no different. After a few moments, she mumbled to herself and sat up, glaring at Sabrina as if it were all her fault, whatever it was that had upset her, though she cleared up immediately just what it was.

"I'm in disgrace," she said, then on a rising note that turned into a wail, "I'm being pitied! Pitied! Can you believe that? No, of course you can't, because it's simply far too unbelievable."

Sabrina, wisely, said exactly what was expected. "I don't believe it."

Ophelia nodded. "It's true, though. Even my closest friends were 'poor dearing' me, before they set off for Summers Glade, official invitations in hand."

"Poor dearing" did indeed sound like pity. Carefully Sabrina asked, "But—why?"

The anger returned, shooting Ophelia off the bed for several paces around the room before she said, "That barbarian Highlander, that's why! The stupid man was supposed to agree that we wouldn't suit for matrimony. It was supposed to be a mutual decision where neither of us would have suffered any consequences for it. Instead, he got all huffy over a little minor criticism and let it be known that he didn't find me acceptable. Now everyone and their mother knows that he all but jilted me at the altar."

"But you didn't reach the altar," Sabrina calmly pointed out.

That got her another glare that said clearly, Idiot, what difference does that make? but aloud Ophelia said, "You still don't understand yet? I was to be congratulated for escaping a match made in hell. Instead I am the latest gossip making the rounds. Because he broke the engagement, everyone now thinks there must be something wrong with me. Why else wouldn't he want me, after all?"

Sabrina sighed at that point. "I guess I don't understand then. I could have sworn you had hoped he would break the engagement." "Not him! My parents were supposed to end it, since they were the ones who got me into it. He was supposed to remain besotted until the end, no matter what I said to him. But he is too barbaric to realize the gentlemanly part he should have played. And now I don't dare show myself until this dies down—or he rectifies it."

Well, that finally explained the "hiding" part of Ophelia's visit. Sabrina couldn't imagine, though, how Duncan was supposed to rectify this situation for Ophelia, unless it was to offer some reason for breaking the engagement that would show her in a better light.

"What did you say to him that did cause him to reject you?"

"I told you, it was just a minor remark that he took undue offense over. I will admit it was rather thoughtless of me, but then I wasn't thinking clearly when he showed up in that barbaric costume of his, which served to confirm in my mind that he was everything I'd feared he would be. If he had been dressed normally, I wouldn't have been so shocked, and that first meeting would certainly have gone much differently"

Sabrina had to agree with that possible outcome. Hadn't she herself thought that surely the engaged couple would be very pleased to be engaged, once they met and got a good look at each other? But she also knew Ophelia well enough by now to realize she was stressing her own innocence a bit too much, and wondered why.

"So you're going to stay with us until the gossip settles down?"

"Goodness, no, that might take forever. I do make a wonderful target for gossip, after all. No, we're going to rectify this ourselves."

Sabrina blinked. "We?"

"Yes." Ophelia nodded. "It's the least you can do, after I befriended you in London and helped with your launch there. You simply must help me with this now."

"Well, certainly—if I can."

"You can," Ophelia assured her. "And you needn't even do much. Just arrange a meeting is all." "A meeting with whom?"

"My ex-fiancé, of course. We're going to get him to ask me to marry him again. Then it will all seem like a silly lovers' tiff that caused the breakup, which will be quite acceptable and put an end to the gossip."

"You just show up at the door."

Truthfully, Sabrina was so appalled by Ophelia's newest scheme, and in particular that the girl wanted to

involve her in it, that she could barely put two thoughts together. And even Ophelia's suggestions for how to go about it, she found highly distasteful.

"I didn't receive an invitation, Ophelia, any more than you did," Sabrina reminded the girl. "But you're a neighbor. Neighbors don't need invitations to visit." "During a party they do."

Ophelia waved a dismissive hand. "A minor point. And besides, you don't really want to enter the house, where you might be overheard by one of the guests. No, no, you want to draw him outside where you can be assured of privacy when you speak to him."

On the one hand, that sounded like something Sabrina would very much like to do, speak to Duncan MacTavish in private, that is. But on the other hand, she knew it was bad form, really bad form, to come visiting your neighbor when you knew he was having a party—that you hadn't been invited to. Beyond rude. Simply not done.

And the subject matter that she was to broach, well, that would be utterly embarrassing as well. She didn't know the first thing about matchmaking, after all, which was pretty much what Ophelia was asking of her.

Besides, all things said and done, she liked Duncan. So did she really want to see him married to a woman like Ophelia who schemed and started rumors about people whether they were true or not? Liking him, and quite aware that she had no chance whatsoever to have him herself, then yes, she would like to see him marry someone as beautiful as Ophelia was, but hopefully someone with a bit more moral fortitude and honor than the London girl had.

So she didn't really want to help Ophelia. However, she couldn't refuse outright either, when Ophelia had befriended her in London. She owed her some help in kind for that. But she did want one thing clarified first before she agreed to this latest scheme.

"Do you want to marry him now, or is this only a means to end the gossip about you?"

Ophelia seemed surprised by the question. That she had to give it some thought before answering didn't greatly reassure Sabrina, either.

But she did finally say, "Of course, I do. I told you, if I had actually noticed him when I met him, rather than just that silly kilt he was wearing, none of this would be necessary now. He is quite handsome, after all, which I realized after it was too late."

"There was always a possibility that he might be handsome," Sabrina pointed out.

"Not really," Ophelia disagreed, and shook her head just to stress it. "My mother knew Lord Neville from years ago, when she used to live here, and she confessed he was quite plain looking himself, which didn't offer much hope that there would be any improvement in a grandson of his. Quite ironic that the Scottish side of Duncan, which was the side I objected to, or at least I objected that he was from the far northern regions that are known to still be quite barbaric, would be the side to give him his good looks."

Sabrina was forced to accept that reasoning, not that the northern Highlands were barbaric, because who knew, after all, what they were like, when Englishmen so rarely visited there to tell about it? No, she

accepted that reasoning only because she knew that people did fall in love based on mutual attraction, and if Ophelia was now attracted to Duncan, that might be all that was necessary to turn her into a good wife for him. The London girl had schemed and lied because she had felt desperate and trapped, but now she found it had all been wasted effort on her part, that she was pleased with her fiancé, or ex-fiancé at the moment, after all.

So Sabrina found herself walking to Summers Glade that afternoon, even though she'd rather be walking in any other direction. She really, really didn't want to be doing this, not just because she liked Duncan, and didn't really like Ophelia all that much, after getting to know her, but because this matchmaking thing just wasn't something she would ordinarily do. Ordinarily? Never was more like it. It was tampering with people's lives, trying to match make them, when they might end up with a disastrous marriage that she would then see as all her fault.

But a favor—no, a discharge of an owed debt was how she tried to see it. And the sooner she got her part out of the way, the sooner the bile in her stomach would go away.

Frazzled, that was how Duncan started feeling, once Neville's guests began arriving at Summers Glade. It was bad enough before the party began, when he had to sit through the arguing over the agenda for it. He'd swear, if his grandfathers were any younger at all, they'd be taking their fists to each other, so much did they hotly disagree on things.

But once the guests showed up, he had Archie taking him from room to room to point out the physical attributes of each lass they came across. Then he had Neville dragging him aside to point out the family histories of each girl, and which ones were more desirable socially. He'd had to put his foot down finally. There were just too many women there for him to keep track of all the information being given to him about each. So now the two old men were sending him notes, and the butler, delivering them, was becoming as frazzled as he was.

He had to wonder, what ever happened to the old tried-and-true fall-in-love-and-then-get-married philosophy that served so many people well? This getting married because this lass was the prettiest, or this one had the most titles in her ancestry, just didn't sit well with him.

He'd already seen the most beautiful, and so knew firsthand that prettiest did not make for best choice. Of course, Archie insisted they couldn't all be senseless twits like Ophelia Reid, and so he was still pushing for beauty rather than credentials. Neville agreed that beauty often came paired with too much vanity and overweening pride, so was still insisting on the better social status. Duncan was inclined to think they'd disagree just to disagree.