Johanna Lindsay - The Heir

"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, pray 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?"

He laughed at that point. "Touché. Indeed, I'd package you up and take you home with me."

Sabrina grinned. "Well, Duncan doesn't have to go that far, since I live in the neighborhood. He knows very well he can always come visiting when he needs cheering up."

"That's assuming he thinks you'll always be available, but what if you marry and move out of the neighborhood? D'you think he's considered that?"

"Why would he, when it's very likely I'll follow in my aunts' footsteps and never marry?"

"Good God, what a waste!" he said in exaggeration, then seriously, "You don’t really think that a silly scandal like yours is would stop someone from marrying you if he really wants to marry you, do you?"

"Actually, I know it will, and you know it will, when the object of most marriages is to continue the line with heirs, and if my particular scandal is believed, then I won't last long enough to beget heirs."

Raphael's snort was most definitely a snort this time. "You know very well you have no intention of ever kicking the bucket intentionally, and anyone with any sense a'tall would know it as well, when you are obviously so very full of laughter and joy of life. There isn't a melancholic bone in your little body, m'dear."

She gave him a wide-eyed look. "Well, no, there isn't, but where did you get the idea that anyone has any sense—aside from the two of us, of course?"

He laughed heartily. "Gads, I suppose when you look at it that way, you're quite right. Of course, if you were to agree to marry me—not to actually do so, mind you, but just to, well, to pretend, so to speak—what do you think Duncan's reaction would be?"

"I think he'd be the first to congratulate me and wish me happy, if that's what he thinks I want."

Raphael tsked. "I disagree. I think he'll discover some serious jealousy, if he hasn't already figured out that's why he can't stand seeing me dance with you. Care to give it a try to find out?"

"You are being ridiculous again and decidedly single-minded. Friends can be jealous of friends, you know, or haven't you ever experienced that when your best friend ignores you a bit and is seen having fun with other friends? Jealousy does not always involve love. Far from it. Envy takes many different forms."

"Yes, yes," he said in exasperation. "But why don't we try it anyway? It won't hurt your reputation a'tall, nor mine, for you to announce later that you've changed your mind and don't want to marry me."

"Well, there is the point that some other young man might take notice of me here and seriously ask me to marry him, but won't if I'm pretending to be engaged to you. Not that I expect any such thing to happen, but if it did, I'd be losing my chance because of this silly nonsense."

He sighed as he led her off the dance floor. "Think about it, Sabrina. You know it won't do any harm, and you might be happily surprised by the results."

Think about it? Sabrina had trouble thinking about anything else during the next hour. What if Raphael was right and Duncan just hadn't figured out yet that he was falling in love with her? That kiss he had treated her to could even support that contention. He had been embarrassed and upset about it, yet why had he kissed her if there was nothing but friendship between them?

But when rational thoughts finally intruded, she knew she wouldn't do it, what Raphael was suggesting. It would be pure deceit just for Duncan's benefit, and she couldn't do that to him. Besides, it might have sounded logical, the way Raphael had put it, but anything could sound logical if twisted just right. That she might want to believe it was sheer foolishness on her part. Playing "what ifs" had never been part of her realistic nature.