The Heir lf-1

by Johanna Lindsay

  But they were back to thinking of other gentlemen who might "do" for her, and just last night when they were gathered in the parlor together after dinner, Alice mentioned a newcomer to the neighborhood.

  "Sir Albert Shinwell is his name. He's building a manor house on the other side of Oxbow near that lovely meadow there. I heard he's just come into an unexpected inheritance, and decided on Oxbow for his country retreat."

  Hilary nodded, adding, "People do tend to spend a lot of money when it's new money. Odd, that, but it happens all the time."

  "I've heard he's also building in Bath and in Portsmouth. Sounds like it was quite a big inheritance." "He's not married, nor ever has been," Hilary put in. "That has been confirmed." "And he's young," Alice thought to add. "Not quite thirty yet."

  Sabrina had no trouble figuring out where the conversation was heading by then. "I'll get around to meeting him, just do not bring him here to meet me."

  "We wouldn't do that, dear, at least I wouldn't," Hilary assured her.

  "Which implies I would?" Alice huffed. "I'm not so insensitive to not realize that our gel is not happy over the big wedding next week."

  "No, just insensitive enough to mention it," Hilary shot back with a snort.

  Sabrina stood up to get their attention off of bickering before they seriously got into it, and back on her. "It's all right. You don't have to tiptoe around me on this subject. It's true, like Aunt Hilary, I thought something more than just friendship might be occurring between Duncan and me, but I was mistaken. I will get over it. It was more a surprise than anything else, his reengagement to Ophelia, which I am recovered from. Really, I am fine."

  She left them before she belied that statement with a quivering lip, but the two sisters looked at each other and both knew better.

  "She's lying." Hilary sighed. "She's still quite devastated." "I know." Alice's sigh was a bit louder. "I'd like to take a club to—"

  "So would I," Hilary cut in. "But what would that help? It's not as if any gel would have a hope of competing with someone like Ophelia, not even one as wonderful as our Sabrina, when men can be such blind idiots."

  Alice might have giggled at that, if they both weren't rather despondent over the subject themselves. "Not that it signifies, but it's just as well, if you ask me. I wasn't looking forward to being condescended to by that old coot Neville again, if we actually ended up related to him by marriage. He made his sentiments perfectly clear, back when the scandal first broke in our day, that he wanted nothing more to do with our family."

  "I'm not so sure it was just that," Hilary replied thoughtfully. "He made a remark to me at the party that led me to think it was more that he was disgusted over what our grandfather did, rather than that a scandal had come of it. He was chummy with him, after all. At least, they used to go hunting together all the time."

  "What remark?"

  "He asked me if idiocy still ran in the family," Hilary replied.

  Alice flushed with heated ire that was reflected in her tone as she blustered, "Why, that hypocrite! Who was it let his daughter go off and marry a Highlander, then bemoaned that fact forever after? That was idiocy."

  Hilary shook her head. "That was a circumstance that couldn't be helped after she went and fell in love with the man. What he should have done was kept them from meeting in the first place."

  "You snubbed him, I hope," Alice replied, still indignant.

  "Of course. But after thinking about it, I was sure he was merely referring to Grandfather shooting himself, which, you'll have to admit, has been our own opinion from time to time."

  "Oh, well, all water under the bridge, as it were," Alice said, then went on to a new complaint. "But you never should have encouraged Sabrina into thinking she had a chance with young Duncan. It's not as if Neville would have allowed a match between them."

  "Encourage how?" Hilary glared at her sister. "I have eyes, you know. It was quite obvious the boy was taken with her, though as it turns out, it was merely her friendship that he cherished," she added with a sigh.

  "Can't blame him for that," Alice replied. "She is a joy to be around."

  "Of course she is. However, you're wrong in thinking Neville would have objected due to the scandal. He wouldn't have liked it, but from what I've gathered, he just wants a new heir, and quickly. With such haste involved, they can't exactly afford to be hoity-toity about it."

  "Sure they can," Alice disagreed. "That was the point of the gathering. Duncan had more gels to choose from than he needed, and look what happened. He ended up choosing the very one that Neville wanted for him."

  "But did he choose her?" "What do you mean?"

  "You know Mary Petty's daughter who is an upstairs maid at Summers Glade? I spoke with her this morning at the cobbler's. She says her daughter told her that no one at Summers Glade is happy about the upcoming wedding, least of all the bride and the groom."

  "Neither of them?"

  "That's what she said."

  "Well, that doesn't make sense. Why are they getting married then?"

  Hilary just raised a supercilious brow that had Alice snorting. "Nonsense. Not a breath of scandal has been hinted at—"

  "Exactly," Hilary cut in with a smirk. "Forced marriages usually occur to nip a scandal in the bud before it has a chance to get started."

  "A groundless assumption in this case," Alice noted. "You are merely guessing."

  "Common sense—"

  Alice cut in, "Who says you have any?"

  "Humph, talking to you is like talking to a doorknob," Hilary complained. "Implying?"

  "That you can turn the knob, but you still haven't sense enough to open the door."

  "Or more than enough sense to know that there is nothing on the other side of the door worth seeing," Alice shot back triumphantly.

  Hilary conceded. That was a rather nice comeback, after all, and though she'd never say so, she was proud of her sister for thinking of it.

  Chapter Forty-one

  This morning when Sabrina passed through Oxbow on her typical walking route, she had four encounters that pretty much convinced her to give up her old routines, at least for a while. It was one thing to get on with her life if she could avoid thinking about Duncan, but quite another when people inadvertently thrust him into her thoughts. Unfortunately, Duncan, still so new to the neighborhood, was going to be a major topic for a good long time. Sir Albert was also getting his share of gossip now, but Duncan, in line for such a lofty title, was still of more interest.

  The first two encounters each told her that Duncan had gone off to London, most likely to buy his bride a special wedding gift. The third encounter, with old Mrs. Spode, was only slightly different.

  Mrs. Spode was a cantankerous old lady, one of Sabrina's aunts' more amusing friends, and she scoffed at the "wedding gif" assumption, whispering to Sabrina that the young lord was more likely off on a last bit of oat sowing in London before the nuptials, especially since Lord Locke, a known rake, had gone with him.

  "Now I ask you, would Lord Locke know where to find wedding gifts, or would he know where to find ladies of ill repute? The latter, of course. If the young lord comes back with a gif, it will be one of those unmentionable diseases." And the old girl had cackled at her own wit.

  Sabrina did not encourage that conversation, in fact, left Mrs. Spode in what might be considered very rude haste. But before she could get out of town completely, she had her fourth encounter.

  This one was the worst, with Duncan's grandfather. Not Neville. Him, she probably could have managed quite nicely—if she could have gotten past the shock of finding him in Oxbow. But it was the Scots grandfather who hailed her as he came out of Oxbow's combination inn and tavern, the grandfather she hadn't actually met yet, though he seemed to know her well enough to call her by name.

  "Yer Duncan's friend Sabrina, aye?" At her nod, he continued, "I had been meaning tae meet ye at Summers Glade, but ye stopped visiting. I'd wondered at that. Most o' the other lassies hie
d it back tae London when they didna win the lad, which was understandable. But ye now—I didna think ye were there for that."

  "I wasn't."

  "Then why did ye stop coming?"

  The direct question, and in such an accusing tone, caused a blush. Unfortunately, Archibald noticed it and interpreted it correctly.

  "Sae, 'tis like that, is it? Ye've let yerself feel more for the lad than friendship?"

  To admit that, to him in particular, was almost a guarantee that it would get back to Duncan, which, under the circumstances, was the very last thing she wanted. Lying, though, which she abhorred doing but had no choice but to do in this case, caused an even worse blush.

  "That isn't the case a'tall. Duncan is charming, I like him a lot, but really, just as a friend."

  His expression was skeptical, even though he went along with her assertion by saying, "Och, I'm glad tae be hearing that. No' that ye arena a sweet lass, I'm sure, but ye ken auld Neville was worried aboot the amount o' time the lad was giving tae ye, and Duncan did assure us o' that same thing, that ye are merely a friend, albeit a verra good friend. I'd hazard e'en tae say yer his best friend just now, which is why I found it strange that ye'd desert him in his—"

  "Excuse me?" she cut in, her voice quite stiff now, but because of that "worried about the amount of time" remark, which, of course had to do with her scandal, rather than his last accusation. "How have I deserted him? Just because I was feeling a bit under the weather and kept to my bed for a few days doesn't mean I have deserted him. And I have spoken to him since the engagement."

  "Ah, well, I didna know that," he replied, and then uncomfortably, "Did he, ah, mention tae ye aboot the, er ... silliness that led tae his—"

  He coughed, giving up trying to ask her what had been confided to her, without actually mentioning what might have been confided. She almost laughed over his difficulty, though it wouldn't have been with much humor, when the subject was still so painful.

  But she did take pity on him and admitted, "If you mean did Duncan tell me that he didn't actually ask Ophelia to marry him, and mentioned to me what led to their renewed engagement, yes, he did."

  Archibald sighed in relief. "Then I can speak freely. Good, I dinna like pussyfooting around a subject. This is why I was concerned wi' yer absence, lass, ye ken? He's in need o' friends just now. I hope ye were able tae cheer him a wee bit when ye spoke tae him?"

  Cheer him? That had been a very painful encounter with Duncan that day on the road. Hearing that he was forced to marry Ophelia was almost as bad as thinking he wanted to. But then she had two very different accounts on their relationship from the both of them. Ophelia was known to lie, so her assertion that Duncan was still passionate for her might have been fabrication, and yet, what if Duncan's assertion that he didn't want Ophelia was the lie instead?

  He had reminded her that the only real compromising had been done to her. Had that been his intent all along? Had he asked Ophelia to marry him in a moment of passion and quickly regretted it as soon as he left her? Then used Sabrina to give him a way to get out of it?

  She didn't want to believe that of him, yet it could have happened exactly that way. Why would Ophelia lie about the time that he'd asked her to marry him, after all? Just because Sabrina had been unable to hide that the answer was extremely important to her?

  She was deluding herself, though, trying to see him in a bad light in hope that it would kill her love for him. It just didn't work. She didn’t really think he had lied to her. But even if he had, there'd been no doubting that he was now miserable over whatever he'd done.

  She had wanted to cheer him up that day. The urge had been strong. But how could she cheer up anyone when she was so miserable herself?

  Archibald's question, though, she decided to simply avoid altogether, and did so by mentioning, "I heard just today that Duncan has gone to London. Perhaps the trip will take his mind off of—"

  "Nae, he's gone searching for the Newbolt lass, sae his mind will be on nothing else."

  She was surprised and hopeful, hearing that. "He knows where to look then?"

  "No' really," he said, disappointing her. "He didna like sitting aboot doing nothing while Neville's people searched, sae he's gone hisself. No' that he's likely tae find her, and he knows it. There's just no' enough time afore the wedding."

  "I suppose not." She managed to keep from sighing.

  "I wanted tae simply postpone it m'self, but Neville seems tae think that any prevaricating on our part will start the scandal brewing."

  "Then you must hope he gets lucky."

  "A slim hope. But if he does manage tae get oout o' this predicament and is back tae looking for a bride, I've a feeling he will be asking ye tae wed."

  Sabrina blinked. "Me?"

  "Aye, but it would be for the wrong reasons, ye ken? He wants ye near tae hand is all. He showed how far he's willing tae go tae hae ye near, by bringing ye tae the gathering, e'en though it brought Ophelia as well. He'd move ye intae Summers Glade if it werena inappropriate. I'm thinking he'd marry ye just tae get ye there permanently. He values yer friendship that much. But it is only that. Dinna let him fool ye intae thinking there's more tae his feelings. Ye'd both sorely regret it if ye do."

  Sabrina prayed she could hold back her emotions for just another few moments, until she could escape from this unwanted conversation. She'd heard the first time what Archibald had said, that Duncan had assured him that she was just a friend. She had put it from her mind when he said it, because to think about it was to rip her heart apart yet again. Yet he'd just thrust it into the open once more, where she couldn't possibly ignore it now. A friend. She was only a friend. She'd never be more than a friend.

  "You are creating worries over something that has little chance of ever occurring, when the wedding is only two days away."

  "True." He sighed. "And m'apologies, lass, for feeling a need tae warn ye—just in case. Ye will come tae the wedding, aye?"

  Sit there and watch Duncan and Ophelia be joined forever more? No way in hell, which had her lying yet again, though evasively this time.

  "I'm sure everyone who receives an invitation will be in attendance. Now I really must get home. My aunts didn't expect me to be gone this long and will begin to worry ..."

  She didn't hear his second sigh as she hurried off. Archibald was already regretting what he'd said to

  her. He didn't doubt any of it, he just realized, belatedly, that he had put the cart before the horse. There'd been no reason to warn her of anything, when Duncan was likely to marry the other girl. If he was saved from that, then that would have been the time to do any warning, not beforehand.

  Chapter Forty-two

  The letter arrived the next afternoon. It completely confounded Sabrina. She really did think it was a joke. It was just too farcical. If someone of consequence was going to be ransomed, why for only forty pounds? Forty thousand pounds, she might have taken seriously, even just several thousand, but a mere forty pounds, and such an odd number at that? It had to be a joke.

  Unfortunately, she couldn't just ignore it. She wasn't even sure that the person who signed the letter was actually that person. If it was a joke, then it wouldn't be the real person who'd sent it. But she had no other correspondence from that individual to compare it with. So on the farfetched chance that the letter was legitimate, she had to act on it.

  She showed the letter to her aunts, of course.

  The sender might have requested that she tell no one, but she couldn't just leave home without letting them know why.

  They both agreed it had to be a joke, and one in very poor taste. But they were certainly eager for a little adventure, even if it was only a waste of time, and thus their coachman was summoned from Oxbow where he lived and the three of them set off late that afternoon.

  They knew they couldn't actually go all the way with her, because of the instructions that only Sabrina was to show up with the money. But they pointed out that she couldn't travel
alone, and they did want to be nearby to find out soonest who had perpetuated the joke.

  Sabrina didn't see it as an adventure, but she did see it as a good excuse for why she wouldn't be at the wedding tomorrow morning, since it was highly doubtful that they would return in time for it. Even if they turned right about after confirming that the letter was just a farce, they wouldn't get back home until very late at night, or rather the wee hours of the morning, thus she'd be sleeping through the latter hours—and right through the wedding.

  They arrived after dark, which was why they had trouble finding the address given in the letter. There weren't many people out and about at that time of the evening whom they could ask, and they were twice given wrong directions from the few who were. It was near midnight when they did finally locate the residence.

  Alice and Hilary were going to wait in the coach, close to hand. The letter stressed that Sabrina must come alone so no one would get hurt, but they absolutely refused to just leave her there. And she was to scream very loudly if she needed help. Mickie, their coachman, had been apprised of their task and had brought along a pistol as well as a very nasty-looking club. For that matter, Sabrina's aunts each had a weapon as well. She had managed to keep from laughing when she'd seen them tuck the very small pair of matching pistols, one each, into their reticules before they left home.

  All the precautions were silly in her opinion, though. She fully expected to find the house vacant, or another letter waiting for her on the porch laughing at her foolishness in coming there. The utter darkness inside the dwelling supported that contention. Not a single light, not even a dull one, showed at any of the windows. And it was a nice looking house, two stories in height, not overly large, but no small cottage either. Hardly the setting one would imagine for nefarious deeds like holding people captive for ransom.

  There was no letter on the porch. She tried the front door, but it was locked. As it should be for an empty house, she told herself. She thought about going around to the back to see if there was another door that might be open, but figured she'd probably trip on something in the dark, and besides, she wasn't exactly trying to keep the fact that she was there a secret. So she knocked on the door, quite briskly. The sooner it was confirmed that no one was in the house, the sooner she and her aunts could return home.