Instead, Raphael Locke took a step back from Ophelia, gave her an incredulous look as color slowly climbed his cheeks, and in what was apparent anger, actually started to walk away from her without any response at all. He changed his mind, though, swung about, and the anger was most definitely there—and turned on her.
“Good God, what an appalling rumormonger you are,” he said in an amazed tone. “I had heard that it was so, but hadn’t believed that any female could be quite as spiteful as you, but apparently it’s true. But I warn you, Lady Ophelia, if you attempt to spread that particular rumor about Sabrina, which isn’t the least bit true, I will ruin you myself. Do you understand? I will see to it that you are never accepted again in polite society. Your superficial beauty will not save you, m’dear, I promise you it won’t.”
Now he did walk away, back stiff, fury contained—he hadn’t once raised his voice—and left her in shock. The very idea that he would talk to her like that, her, and threaten her, just to protect a nobody like Sabrina, she simply couldn’t comprehend it. Well, she wouldn’t have him now. The stupid man had quite ruined his chances.
And that left Duncan MacTavish.
Ophelia sighed inwardly. She didn’t really want to marry him, but he wasn’t as bad as she had feared. He was different, with his brogue, his red hair, his unpredictability, but he was handsome enough, and every other woman there seemed to find him a fine catch, which made all the difference as far as she was concerned.
But dealing with that Scot again and his denseness—he hadn’t even grasped that she was apologizing to him yesterday—as well as his offended pride, was going to be a lesson in patience for her. Yet he did want her back. That was obvious, at least to her, or she wouldn’t be here now. He was just pretending otherwise, nursing his grudge, she supposed, and probably quite at wits’ end, trying to figure out how to get her back without it appearing that he was willing to forgive her.
She could help in that regard by pretending that the incident was forgotten as far as she was concerned. It might be more amusing to let him flounder about, no more than he deserved for not immediately forgiving her, but there were all these other young hopefuls in attendance who needed to realize that they didn’t stand a chance with him, now that she was here. She didn’t want to see any more simpering looks and eyes batting his way than she already had.
As for Sabrina garnering Duncan’s attention as she’d apparently done last night, he was obviously just trying to make Ophelia jealous, since he knew she’d hear about it, which she did. As if Sabrina could. So absurd. But at least Ophelia had figured out what he was up to now, and she knew just how to counter such nonsense.
Chapter Twenty-eight
Now that the guests at Summers Glade had been in residence for several days, and Duncan had been introduced, and in some cases reintroduced, to all of them, they were no longer wary of him as being the “outsider” in their midst. The simple passing of a few days acquaintance had elevated him into being “one of them.”
This began a phenomenon that he discovered late that day. It was now increasingly difficult for him to pass from room to room, or even just across the hall, without being stopped by guests who wanted to chat with him. He found he much preferred it when he’d been the “stranger” and most of them were leery of approaching him.
The phenomenon continued into the evening. He had tried to get to the ballroom sooner, where he expected to find Sabrina and could attempt to correct the blunder he’d made with her on the terrace that afternoon. But not all the guests were interested in dancing, however informal it was, and so many of them were still spread out in the other rooms. And they thought nothing of dragging him into the drawing room to settle an argument, or into another room to join what they considered a discussion he shouldn’t miss.
Unwilling to be outright rude, which he was striving not to be, Duncan had been detained again and again, so it was several hours into the evening before he did finally escape long enough to slip into the ballroom. But it didn’t end there as he’d hoped.
His eyes went right to Sabrina on the far side of the room, passing over Ophelia without really noticing her, though she noticed his oversight. But there was quite a trail of people between them, each determined to stop him to say something, so that he was actually annoyed by the time he reached Sabrina and his tone a bit surly in his greeting.
But insightful as she usually was, she took one look at him and laughed, guessing, “You’re not used to being so popular, are you?”
“ Tis no‘ that, lass. In the Highlands we dinna talk just tae hear ourselves talk as these English do, we talk o’ real concerns.”
“I understand,” she replied, still grinning. “It must have been difficult for you, the conversations you and I have had, which were for the most part quite frivolous.”
He blushed to his roots and tried to quickly amend, “I dinna mean tae imply—”
“Duncan, stop that,” she chided gently. “You should know by now when I’m teasing.”
He sighed. She was right. He should have known. But then he’d been expecting a more reserved attitude from her after what had passed between them on the terrace, possibly even anger. Yet, now that he thought of it, it was almost impossible to imagine Sabrina angry, truly angry, with raised voice, flashing eyes—that would be something to behold, violet eyes filled with hot passion . . .
He glanced away from her so she wouldn’t see what his own thoughts were doing to him. Unfortunately, his eyes did light on Ophelia this time, and he couldn’t miss the smile she was sending him as she started his way.
It didn’t take much for him to realize that standing with Sabrina, who knew Ophelia quite well, gave the blond girl an excuse to join them. This had him quickly moving off in another direction.
“I’ll be back, lass,” was all he tossed at Sabrina before he hurried off.
It was more than an hour later before he managed to work his way back to Sabrina. He’d realized after the fact that running from Ophelia because he couldn’t tolerate her wasn’t going to work, when she was going to be in the house every day. He was simply going to have to make it clear to her to stay away from him, since trying to ignore her didn’t seem to get that message across.
“It seems I owe you several apologies now,” he told Sabrina as he joined her near the refreshment table.
“Only several?” she replied, lifting a brow. “I can count at least seven.”
It was the odd number she used, and her straight face, that made him think she was serious for once. “Och, what else have I done?”
“Well, one, you haven’t asked me to dance yet. Two, you should apologize for thinking you have anything to apologize for, when you don’t. Three, you shouldn’t look so surprised when someone is pulling your leg, because they might get the idea that you’re in need of a lesson in the art of silliness and walk off with it.”
“Walk off wi‘ what?” he asked in exasperation after trying to follow her strange trail of thoughts.
“Your leg, of course.”
It was because she was still looking at him so seriously that his laughter, when it burst out, was so loud and sudden. Not that he cared at the moment if he was drawing eyes their way. Once again she had managed to put him at complete ease, to more or less wash away all his aggravations of the day as if they’d never been.
“One o‘ these days I’ll be asking you for the other four things I was tae apologize for.”
“Oh, good, I just love having extra time to be creative in my endeavors. I can be really, really silly when I put my mind to it, you know.”
He grinned at her and stressed, “But I’ll still be apologizing for leaving you tae your own devices this afternoon, when I should have taken you home m’self for a dry change o‘ clothes. There’s nae excuse for such thoughtlessness on my part. I went back tae the ballroom when I realized it, but you were already gone.”
“And now who’s being silly? It’s not as if I had to go to London to change. Easy
enough to find my way home when I live just around the corner, more or less. Is that why you were upset today?” At his own raised brow, she added, “My aunts mentioned that they sensed you were.”
“Och, well, that among other things. Wi‘ both o’ my granddas hoping I’ll find a wife afore this party ends, I’m feeling a wee bit o‘ pressure. Disappoint them, or disappoint m’self in a hasty decision, makes for nae winners. Neville, I dinna care if I disappoint, but he’s o’ the same mind as Archie on this, and I do care if I disappoint him. Archie, however, is being foolish in what he wants, but you canna tell an auld stubborn Scot that.”
“That’s quite a predicament,” Sabrina replied, her lips pursed thoughtfully. “Perhaps if you weren’t trying so hard to make this important decision of yours, it might get much easier for you.”
“And the sun managed tae shine all day as well, I noticed,” he countered.
Since it had in fact rained most of the day, she scolded lightly, “Don’t be so skeptical, when it really does work occasionally. In my own case, I have found that if I don’t worry a problem to death, the answer will sometimes just come to me of a sudden. Not always, of course, that would be too simple, but often enough that I do try not to worry about it when a problem first presents itself. A few predicaments do have a way of correcting themselves with no help from you a’tall. Would that they all did,” she ended with a smile.
“You’re a might young tae be so philosophical, lass.”
“You think so?” she said in wide-eyed innocence. “When that’s a child’s logic I just gave you, that most adults tend to forget once they become adults?”
He chuckled. She was such a treasure, this friend of his. And she looked especially lovely tonight in her simple blue frock with her eyes sparkling with laughter. She had mentioned dancing in jest, but he did want to dance with her, and he realized why. He wanted to touch her.
Duncan sighed inwardly. He had to stop these kinds of thoughts. She wasn’t interested in him that way, had never once looked at him with other than camaraderie. She considered him a friend. A fine friend he would be if he pounced on her every chance he got.
He was going to frighten her away if he didn’t get control of this sudden attraction he was finding to her. Much as he might like to steal another kiss or two from her, he would much rather have her friendship, which he was finding he valued beyond measure.
But he could dance with her. Even she would think nothing of it, probably did expect him to at least ask her for a twirl about the floor. One dance, and then he would get back to the matter of finding a wife.
Chapter Twenty-nine
“Will you marry me, Sabrina?”
She imagined that he had waited until they were twirling about the dance floor before springing that shocking question on her so she wouldn’t just walk off and ignore it as it deserved. She did miss a step and almost tripped them both. And she didn’t find him amusing. Marriage was nothing to tease about, really, at least not in such a direct way.
“Don’t be absurd,” she finally told him. “You know very well that you and I wouldn’t suit. Nor would your family approve, as if I need to point that out, when you know it very well.”
“If those are your only objections, then we can set a date for the wedding.”
She rolled her eyes at him. He was joking. She just wished she could find it a matter for joking as well. Not that she wouldn’t have been exceptionally flattered if she thought he was serious. But she was realistic, knew she wasn’t a prime catch like he was, even if she didn’t have a scandal attached to her name. But she did come packaged with an old scandal, and most families, particularly those that prided themselves on having pristine ancestry, would summarily cross her off a list of possibilities for their heirs.
And besides, she had decided that very afternoon that she was never going to marry, after coming to the heartbreaking conclusion that she loved a man she could never have. Marrying someone else just wouldn’t be fair to the man in question, even if that man was Raphael Locke, who might deserve it for treating this subject so frivolously.
“Why won’t you believe me?” Raphael asked after her silence continued.
“I’m not blind, Rafe,” she said uncomfortably.
He ignored the reference to her looks, said instead, “You’re wonderful, is what you are. I’d much rather marry someone I truly enjoy being with than some snooty chit who spends all her time primping in front of a mirror.”
She laughed. “Well, I’d have to admit mirrors and I don’t get along too well. But if I did believe you, my answer would have to be no.”
“Why?”
How to explain without really explaining? She decided not to try, to turn the tables on him instead.
“You aren’t the least bit devastated by my refusal, which proves you don’t love me.”
“Well, no, but I like you well enough, and I’ve no doubt love would blossom in no time a’tall.”
She snorted at him. “Now, why would you hope for such an occurrence, rather than wait for it to happen first and then proceed in a more natural order? Why would you even want to get married as young as you are, when you don’t have to, and love isn’t involved?”
He gave her a wounded look. “You don’t think you could learn to love me?”
“When I haven’t given you the least indication that I’m interested, might you not conclude that my interest lies elsewhere?”
“Aha! Are we going to confess now that we love someone else?”
She blinked at him. He seemed too triumphant by half with that conclusion.
“Is that what this is all about? You’re looking for a grand confession that—”
“Now, now, don’t say something we will both regret. No, I’m hoping two people I like will wake up and see what’s in front of them before it’s too late.”
There was a serious side to Raphael Locke, and she was seeing it now. It actually made him much more attractive than his usual attitude of jocularity, but she only barely noticed that.
“And which two people are those?” she asked, her eyes narrowing on him suspiciously.
“You, of course, and that dunderhead Highlander,” he replied simply.
Sabrina blushed furiously. Good God, how could he possibly have guessed her feelings when she had only just discovered them herself? Was she obvious about it? Staring at Duncan too long, perhaps? Looking at him in a way she shouldn’t? She was mortified to think she might be. Or was it only because she had spent so much time with Duncan the other night, and that had been taken note of? If that was the case, then Raphael was only guessing, and she wasn’t about to give him yet another reason to exclaim, Aha!
“You are mistaken,” she said succinctly. “Duncan and I are just friends.”
He didn’t exactly snort, but it was definitely a similar sound of skepticism that he made. That he made no comment, though, and the silence continued, forced her to elaborate. He was obviously still harboring false assumptions—at least where Duncan was concerned. Her own feelings hardly counted when they weren’t returned.
“I can’t imagine where you got this silly idea from,” she said. “Duncan even discusses with me his dilemma in needing to pick a wife from among those in attendance here. I was going to recommend your sister to him. That should please you, since, as you say, you like him.”
Raphael chuckled now. “Trouble is, I do like him, so I would not wish my sister on him, who would drive him batty within a month.”
She frowned at him. “Bosh. You adore your sister. How can you not, when she’s so charming? Perhaps it’s your constant teasing of her that causes her to act in such a way that might cause someone to go batty.”
He smiled. “Perhaps, but hardly the point. He might be dancing with her now.” He paused to take a moment to spot the other couple in the crowd on the dance floor. “But take it from a man who would recognize the signs, m’dear. He isn’t the least bit interested in my little sister.”
“And what, pra
y tell, makes you think he’s interested in me that way?”
“Possibly because he looks for you when you’re not with him. Possibly because he’s already sent a couple scowls my way since I’ve been dancing with you. Possibly because Lady Ophelia is here when she shouldn’t be here, but she’s here because he couldn’t stand it that you wouldn’t be here unless she was.”
Sabrina stared at him blankly for a moment until that last long sentence unjumbled itself enough to make sense in her mind. She then sighed.
“You misunderstand completely Duncan’s reactions, but then of course you would, since you aren’t aware of all the circumstances involved.”
“Which would be?”
“Basically, the effect I have on some people. I’m quite aware of it. In fact, I work at it diligently.”
He was frowning now. “What are you talking about? What effect?”
“I put people at ease, Rafe. Whatever is bothering them, aggravation, frustration, real anger, et cetera, I’m able to tease them out of it with simple silliness or a laugh or two. It really is amazing, how beneficial a little thing like laughter is. But in Duncan’s case, he’s been overset with all of the negative emotions since coming here, since he really didn’t want to come here. And both his grandfathers have been causing him extra frustration in insisting he get this marriage business over with quickly. And to be truthful ...” She whispered now. “I don’t think he likes Lord Neville a’tall. I wouldn’t presume to ask why, but from certain remarks he’s made, I have gathered as much.”
“And your point in all of that?”
She rolled her eyes at him. “Wretch, you got the point very well. He’s constantly angry or frustrated or whatever, and I’m able to make him forget his troubles for a bit, that’s all. Now, wouldn’t you often seek out someone who was able to help you forget for a while that you’re facing the guillotine in the morning?”
The Heir Page 14