Johanna Lindsay - The Heir

That was a touchy subject that Sabrina immediately regretted mentioning, so she quickly added, "I heard there is to be dancing tonight. Has that been confirmed?"

"Indeed it has," Alice replied. "But there's no need to rush home to break the ball gowns out of storage. It will be quite informal."

"It has to be," Hilary pointed out. "At gatherings this large, it's almost impossible to set anything to a schedule, where everyone would need to prepare at the same time. Can you just imagine eight women in the same room, with eight ball gowns laid out, and eight maids trying to dress their ladies all at once? Can't be done, not without mass confusion and tempers flaring."

Sabrina did imagine it and smiled. "I don't know, the flaring tempers might be amusing to witness." "Have you met Lord Archibald MacTavish yet, m'dear?" Alice asked next. "No, but I've heard he's here," Sabrina replied. "Have you?" "Not yet, though we were hoping to today."

"She was hoping to," Hilary corrected her sister. "She has the silly notion that the widower MacTavish could use a new wife himself."

Sabrina raised a teasing brow. "Why, Aunt Alice, are you thinking of getting married?"

Alice blushed and humphed in her sister's direction. "Certainly not. It merely occurred to me that with his grandson moving to England, he'll be alone up in those Highlands of his now."

"We don't know what his home is like," Hilary argued back. "It could be filled to the brim with other relatives of his, for all we know."

"Actually, it's rather empty, according to Duncan," Alice said, smirking at Hilary in triumph that she had that information.

Sabrina decided to nip their bickering in the bud before it got seriously started by satisfying her own curiosity. "You spoke to Duncan?" she asked Alice.

"Yes, just after lunch, though not for long. Poor boy seemed rather upset about something. He did ask where you had got to, and I couldn't answer him. I presume this was when you went home to change?"

"Possibly," Sabrina replied uncomfortably, and even more uncomfortably, tried to sound nonchalant in asking, "Did he say if he was looking for me for a reason, or merely wondered where I was?"

"No, but it's all right for you to seek him out to find out," Alice said.

"Yes," Hilary confirmed. "It's quite acceptable for you to do that in a gathering like this. You are his neighbor, after all."

Sabrina gave both of her aunts a narrow look, aware of what they were doing. "If it's important, I'm sure he'll find me. But in the meantime, stop imagining there is more there than there is. He sees me merely as a friend, something neighbors tend to do."

As they watched Sabrina leave the room, Alice said, "She stressed that rather nicely, didn't she?"

"Yes, rather overstressed it, actually. He likes her, you know."

"I thought as much, but apparently she doesn't," Alice said, frowning thoughtfully.

"Can you blame her for being less than confident after the disaster London turned out to be?"

"It wasn't a disaster, merely a—"

"Disaster."

"I swear, Hilary, could you not disagree with me for once, when we do happen to be in agreement about Duncan MacTavish? If Sabrina thinks he only wants to be friends with her, then she's not going to notice any hints to the contrary that will come from him. We need to convince her that she has a chance at a fine match here."

Ophelia wasn't overly embarrassed to be the only woman there that evening wearing a ball gown. She would have changed her clothes, however, if she'd noticed it in time, rather than after she was already halfway into the ballroom. She'd been too busy trying to locate Raphael Locke, though, to see what everyone else was wearing.

But she ignored it after her initial surprise and momentary discomfort. She knew how splendid she looked, after all, and that was all that mattered. She would merely shine even brighter compared to the other women there, which was fine by her and as it should be.

She didn't see the Locke heir yet, but she did see that Mavis was still there, and was exceedingly annoyed by it. The hateful bitch should have left Summers Glade already, but apparently being labeled a lying, backstabbing traitor to her friends wasn't enough to shame her into going. Ophelia would have to think of something else to send her running home in tears.

When she did finally spot Raphael Locke, it was to see him standing with Sabrina—again? How intolerable! What did he and Duncan find so interesting about that girl? It certainly couldn't be her looks. Amusing, Mavis had said. What nonsense. It was more likely they were getting something from her that they shouldn't be, yes, that must be it. And who would have thought the little country mouse would have loose morals? But why not? It wasn't as if she had any hope of ever marrying, so she wouldn't really care if she got a sordid reputation, now would she?

Ophelia strolled near them, hoping no gentlemen would stop her along the way. She was in luck, for once, and arrived without anyone trailing behind her. She offered Sabrina a brief smile before giving Lord Locke a demure look that she knew was exceptionally flattering, since she had practiced it enough before her mirror.

"I don't believe I've had the pleasure," Ophelia said. "Would you do the honors, Sabrina?"

"Certainly," Sabrina said, grinning impishly. "Lady Ophelia, may I present to you Raphael Locke, scion of the Locke family, from a long line of dukes and sure to carry on that line someday— if some woman doesn't shoot him first for his outlandish flirting."

Lord Locke, instead of being insulted as Ophelia would have expected him to be, laughed. But what else could he do, without being rude? Yet he must be mortified over that bizarre introduction. Whatever could have prompted Sabrina to say something so ridiculous?

"I don't believe a word of it," Ophelia offered, gaining his attention again.

"Oh, it's quite true, the 'flirting' part, at least. I object to the 'outlandish' part, though, 'deed I do. My

flirting is quite refined, I'll have you know."

He was being kind. How nice of him. He should have put Sabrina in her place instead, as Ophelia would have. She turned to do just that, but Sabrina chose to leave at that moment, and since that was what Ophelia had been hoping she would do, she held her tongue.

"If you'll excuse me," Sabrina said. "I believe my aunts are in need of rescuing."

Raphael, who'd met her aunts earlier, saw them across the room and protested, "From whom? They are standing there alone together."

Sabrina chuckled. "Exactly. If you knew them better, you'd know that they frequently need rescuing—from each other. Even in a gathering like this where they should just be enjoying themselves, not five minutes can pass that they won't start arguing about something. Doesn't matter what. Pick any subject, and they'll disagree over it."

"Well, if you must play the angel of arbitration, then you must," he said with an exaggerated forlorn sigh. "But do keep in mind that I haven't forgotten how skillfully you evaded my request to dance. You can be sure that I'll mention it again later."

Sabrina still left them, though she did so now with a blush on her cheeks. Ophelia snorted to herself, would have done so aloud if it weren't such an indelicate sound. They wouldn't be dancing together later if she had anything to do about it, she promised herself.

But she was alone now with Raphael Locke, and far enough from any of the other guests that they wouldn't be overheard. And he was finally behaving as he should, his blue eyes now taking in every inch of her in a slow, thorough examination. She wasn't the least bit embarrassed by it, was quite used to being stared at, even methodically as he was doing, had in fact expected it much sooner.