The Heir

by Johanna Lindsey -

  “Besides,” Hilary added, “it’s only the most important guests that would be given rooms of their own. I remember sharing a room once with six other girls, and Father, who accompanied Alice and me to that affair, didn’t fare as well, was stuffed in with nine other gentlemen. But when you throw parties of this sort that go on for weeks, there really is no other choice.”

  “You came.”

  Sabrina turned around to find Duncan had come up behind her. She had been smiling at her aunt and so was still smiling as she greeted him.

  “Did you think I wouldn’t?”

  “After the ooutcome o‘ that meeting you arranged, aye, I did have m’doubts.”

  “What meeting would that be, m’dear?” Hilary asked beside her.

  Sabrina managed not to blush, saying evasively, “Nothing of importance, Aunt Hilary. And may I introduce you to Duncan MacTavish?”

  Duncan cut a bow for her aunt, very gentlemanly. Actually, he did look quite the gentleman tonight, formally dressed in a midnight-blue tailed coat that brought out the deep blue of his eyes.

  “You don’t look anything like your grandfather, young man,” Hilary told him, adding in her blunt way, “I consider that quite fortunate—for you.”

  He laughed, but another party was heard from. “Do you indeed? And who might you be, madame?”

  Hilary raised a brow at the old gentleman who’d joined them. “Don’t recognize me, Neville? I’m not surprised, it’s been more’n twenty years.”

  “Is that you, Hilary Lambert?”

  “Indeed.”

  “You’ve put on a bit of weight, gel,” he humphed.

  “And you’re looking like you belong in a sickbed. So what else is new?”

  Sabrina put a hand to her mouth, wishing she were about ten feet away so she could laugh in peace. Duncan, glancing between the two older people who were glowering at each other, said, “Then you do know the lass?”

  “What lass?” Neville demanded grouchily. “You’re not calling this old bird here a lass, are you?”

  “I think he means my niece here, you old coot,” Hilary supplied helpfully.

  That brought Neville’s eyes to Sabrina, who was at the moment no longer in need of laughing. Hilary’s testiness could be amusing, but not when she resorted to actually insulting their host.

  He hadn’t seemed to notice that, however, was now staring at Sabrina with avid curiosity, and finally said, “Well, damn me, they really are lilac, aren’t they? Thought the boy was exaggerating.” Then, as it suddenly dawned on him, “Good God, you’re a Lambert?”

  Sabrina, of course, knew exactly why he was suddenly so shocked. Unfortunately, like her aunts, she sometimes was more blunt than she ought to be, and replied, “Last time I noticed, yes, and still alive, too.”

  He had the grace to blush. She blushed for her own reason, that she’d been less than diplomatic in her response. Duncan, seeing the blushes, frowned, said, “Excuse us,” and dragged Sabrina off into the next room.

  The next room was just as crowded, of course, but since it was the ballroom, which was easily the size of three large rooms combined, and had been set up with a buffet for dinner rather than for dancing tonight, he was able to find a spot off in one corner where they wouldn’t be overheard. And she knew exactly why he wanted a bit of privacy. The poor man was quite confused, and understandably so.

  “Would you be explaining tae me what that was all aboot?” he demanded as soon as he stopped and let go of her arm.

  She winced, deliberately. “Must I?”

  For answer he just stared at her, and stared, until her next wince was genuine. “Very well.” She sighed. “But this story would be much more interesting if you heard it from someone else. Are you sure you wouldn’t rather have your grandfather tell it? I’m sure he could exaggerate for effect. Most people do.”

  “Is that a wee bit o‘ bitterness I’m hearing, lass?” he asked.

  She blinked at him, then smiled. “You’ve found out my secret.”

  “I’m still waiting tae hear it.”

  “But you just did.”

  He tapped a palm to the side of his head a couple of times, saying, “Then something mun be wrong wi‘ my hearing, lass, ’cause I’ve heard nae secret yet.”

  “Now, how could you forget so soon, when you only just said you heard my bitterness? That’s my secret. The rest,” she said, waving a dismissive hand, “is public knowledge, so hardly a secret.”

  He was staring again, quite pointedly, letting her know that her silliness wasn’t going to lighten his mood this time. But just in case she wasn’t sure of that, he said, “Should I remind you that I’ve no‘ been part o’ this public for verra long, and any knowledge taken for granted in this area would be unknown tae me?”

  “Let me give you the brief version then, since it’s not really all that interesting. Lamberts, those closely related to me, that is, are known to have died not by natural means, but by their own incentive, as it were. This has given rise to the general conclusion that ‘bad blood’ runs in my family, and that surely I will follow this same path. Honestly, some people just can’t understand why I’m still alive. Some even swear that I’m not, that surely I must be—”

  “A ghost?”

  “Ah, you remember my mentioning that?”

  He nodded, replying, “I’m thinking I’d rather hear the long version, the one that explains why you’re a wee bit bitter o’er this.”

  “I’m not really bitter, Duncan. Truly, sometimes I find this quite amusing, like when poor corpulent Lady Marlow shrieked to the rafters before she fainted upon seeing me. Now, everyone present might not have heard her shriek, but they surely felt it when she hit the floor. One fellow even complimented our host on having such good architecture that the floor survived that fall—the lady really was very wide of girth. Oh, go ahead, I know you want to smile.”

  He chuckled instead, then cut it off and tried to look serious again, he really did, but he couldn’t quite manage it. She could have got him really laughing at that point with not much more effort, to where he just might forget about wanting to hear the “long version,” but he’d remember eventually, and she’d just as soon get it over with, so she could enjoy her one night at Summers Glade.

  “It was my great-grandfather Richard who started the scandal by killing himself. No one really knows why he did, but it was pretty obvious that he did, and his wife, unable to bear up under the tragedy of it, did the same not long after. Their only child, my grandmother, was already married at the time and had two daughters herself, the two aunts I live with. She bore up well under this double tragedy, for a while anyway. But after she gave birth once more, to my father, she, ahh, fell down some stairs. My aunts insist this was an accident, but no one else was inclined to think so, thus the ‘bad blood’ theory arose and took further root when my own parents died together.”

  “I’m sorry aboot your parents.”

  “So am I. I regret mostly not even knowing them, since I was too young at the time to remember them. But they didn’t kill themselves. It was tainted food. Even the doctor who arrived too late to help them said so. Of course, it makes for a much better story, that they took poison together. And now, even though my aunts, from the same tree, are quite hale and hardy, with no inclination to go walking off any cliffs, I’m next in line to take the tragic plunge.”

  “I canna think o‘ anyone less likely tae take anything so seriously that they’d come e’en close tae contemplating ending it all.”

  “Goodness, I believe you’ve just called me a carefree scatterbrain.”

  “I did nae such thing,” he snorted.

  “I’m gravely insulted.”

  “The devil y’are.”

  She humphed. “Well, it was certainly a golden opportunity to say so.”

  He burst out laughing, loud enough that a few heads turned their way. One fellow who’d been walking around with plate in hand—Neville didn’t possess two hundred chairs either, so not ev
eryone could sit down to eat—sauntered over to them. Sabrina could almost feel Duncan stiffening and was quite annoyed that her effort to amuse him had just gone to waste.

  “So here you are, and who is this?” the fellow asked. “Don’t believe we’ve met.”

  He was looking to Duncan to make the introduction, but the Highlander was suddenly blushing, and Sabrina realized, belatedly, that she’d never given him her full name. Before Duncan had to admit that and be even more embarrassed, she supplied, “Sabrina Lambert.”

  The fellow was surprised at first, but then seemed quite delighted. “The walking ghost? This is a pleasure. I was quite disappointed to have missed you in London recently. Truly wanted to meet the young lady who had everyone showing what bloody fools they are.”

  She smiled, realizing that she was actually meeting someone who didn’t believe the rumors about her. “And you would be?”

  “Raphael Locke, most definitely at your service.”

  “And most definitely intruding,” Duncan added.

  Raphael wasn’t insulted, seemed instead to have expected just such a remark. “Oh, come now, old chap, you don’t think you can monopolize the most interesting lady here, do you?”

  “Should you no‘ be chaperoning your sister?” Duncan reminded him pointedly.

  Raphael looked appalled. “The dear chit is surrounded by a gaggle of giggling friends. God forbid I get anywhere near them. Do have a heart. Besides, you should brave that bunch. You’re the one shopping for a bride, after all, not I. How can you make a proper decision if you don’t mingle?”

  “Perhaps I’ve already made a decision.”

  “Never say so! My sister will be sooo disappointed.”

  “Your sister will be relieved.”

  “You’re going to ask for her then?”

  “Bedamned, go away, mon.”

  Raphael chuckled, apparently satisfied that he’d annoyed Duncan enough—for now—but he did part with, “Very well, I shall go in search of that old Scotsman who claims to be another grandfather of yours. Very amusing, what he has to say about you, and I just love good ammunition, don’t you know.”

  It took quite a while for the color to leave Duncan’s cheeks after Raphael Locke left them. Sabrina might have been able to put him at ease sooner, but then again, she might have made his annoyance worse, the roots being in male rivalry, which was beyond her comprehension. Besides, she was having a real hard time with the realization that she just might have been the bone of contention they’d just fought over.

  In the end she decided she’d imagined it, and by then Duncan had calmed down enough to ask her, “Have you heard o‘ him prior tae just meeting him?”

  “No, should I have?”

  He shrugged, saying, “Auld Neville is delighted he’s here. A duke’s son, he is, apparently.”

  She smiled. “That would make his sister a fine catch for you then.”

  “D’you think so? She seems a bit scatterbrained tae me, and aye, this time I said it. E’en her brother agrees, but I just might marry her tae spite him.”

  “Oh my, you really don’t like him, do you?”

  “Och, nay, how can you think so, when m’fist is so eager tae get more friendly with his face?”

  Chapter Twenty

  Sabrina was enjoying herself too much to have realized any sooner that the reason for it was that Duncan hadn’t left her side. He had even eaten with her, finding them a couple of empty chairs in the music room to take their plates to. And afterward they had joined a game of cards where she had found it necessary to teach him how to play it as they went along, without letting the other two players be aware of it. Now, that had been hilarious. She hadn’t laughed so much herself in a very long time.

  When it did finally occur to her that as the guest of honor at the party, or at least the very reason they were even having a party, he should be dividing his time more equally among the guests, she didn’t point that out to him as she should have. She was having a bout of selfishness and fully acknowledged it. And she decided that as long as she recognized it for what it was, and didn’t try to delude herself, she could indulge it just this once.

  Nor did she try to delude herself about why he was staying near her. He had laughed too much during the evening for her to think other than that he’d simply enjoyed her company. There was nothing romantic about it. She made him laugh. She was fun to be around.

  It had been an enchanting night for her, though, the stuff of fanciful dreams. But all dreams must come to an end, and her one night at Summers Glade did as well.

  When she saw her aunt looking for her, with their coats over her arm, she turned to Duncan and told him, “I must be going.”

  He didn’t protest because he fully expected her to be there every day for the duration, and said as much. “I’ll see you in the morning, then.”

  “No, actually, you won’t.”

  She sighed, really regretting what she needed to tell him. He was already starting to frown, but she’d put this off all evening and couldn’t any longer. It was a shame, though, it really was, that this wonderful night, for her at least, had to end like this.

  “When you invited me here, well, in my original surprise I completely overlooked the fact that my aunts and I have a houseguest ourselves just now. I shouldn’t even have come tonight. It’s not as if I was committed before our guest showed up, and she does know that. So I can’t be rude and desert her a second time.”

  “You didna want tae come.”

  She smiled at his mistaken conclusion, which was so completely illogical that she was sure even he knew it, and told him, “Nonsense. I’ve enjoyed myself tonight. I really would like to come again, and perhaps if our guest leaves before your house party ends, then I can—”

  “Bring her along,” he cut in.

  “Ah, Duncan, shouldn’t you ask who my guest is, before you make an offer like that?”

  “As long as it isna Ophelia—”

  He didn’t continue. Her expression, which told him clearly that it was Ophelia, had him really scowling now.

  He was practically growling when he got around to adding, “Bedamned, what is she doing staying wi‘ you?”

  That, at least, was easy enough to explain. “Taking advantage of the same courtesy her family extended to mine when we were recently in London.”

  “And running her errands, was that part o‘ the same courtesy?” he asked.

  “No, that was settling all debts,” she said, still smiling despite his testy tone. “She befriended me, Duncan, and made my first trip to London much easier than it would otherwise have been. I couldn’t very well refuse her one request, even though I didn’t want to do it, when I felt so obliged to her. But now I feel that debt has been paid.”

  “Then ignore that she’s there, or leave her wi‘ your other aunt again, as you did t’night.”

  She shook her head at him. “Do you really see me being that rude to someone?”

  He said nothing for a long moment, then he sighed. “Nae, I ken you wouldna do that. And I’ll let you go afore you’re thinking I’m a spoiled lad, wi‘ the way I keep behaving when I dinna get my way.”

  “I wouldn’t think that.” She grinned at him. “A Highland barbarian perhaps—”

  “Begone wi‘ you,” he shot back, but he was grinning now, too.

  “Perhaps I’ll see you on one of my walks again,” she offered in parting.

  “Aye, and perhaps you’ll be getting rid o‘ unwanted guests sooner than later.”

  He walked her and her aunt to the door, and stood there a moment with the butler as they got into the waiting coach, long enough for the butler to take note of it and remark, “A nice girl, our Sabrina.”

  Duncan turned to Jacobs. “Our? You’ve known her long?”

  “Yes, she’s lived here most of her life.”

  “These walks she takes, does she take them often?” Duncan asked.

  “Every day, no matter the weather,” Jacobs replied. “She pr
efers the mornings, but sometimes she’ll go out again in the afternoon.”

  Duncan nodded, thinking about taking a walk himself tomorrow morning—until he realized that an hour or so of her company just wouldn’t be enough. And both his grandfathers would have a fit if he disappeared most of the day, when he had the job of finding a wife to do.

  After having enjoyed himself that evening, really enjoyed himself for the first time since he’d come to England, he went to bed that night in a very disagreeable mood.

  In the coach rambling toward Cottage by the Bow, the manor house that was so named years ago when it was still part of the old ducal estate, Hilary was rambling herself about the party. Sabrina wasn’t really paying attention, was still savoring her own experiences from the evening, until she heard, “He likes you.”

  That definitely caught her attention and didn’t even need explaining, since she knew her aunt well enough to know just who she meant. “Yes, I believe he does, but not in the way you mean.”

  Hilary took offense on Sabrina’s behalf and huffed, “And why not in that way?”

  “Let’s be truthful, Aunt Hilary, if you put someone like me next to someone like Ophelia or even Amanda Locke, I wouldn’t even be noticed. And the crème de la crème of English aristocracy has been invited here by Lord Neville to tempt his grandson into marriage. You saw for yourself tonight, the young women in attendance weren’t the same young hopefuls who descended on London this Season with us. A few of them were, but most of those that Neville invited don’t need to go on the marriage block, they quite know their worth and don’t need to parade it about.”

  “Posh, what has that to do with the fact that he likes you?”

  “We’ve become friends, nothing more than that,” Sabrina replied. “When he does actually choose his bride, it will be from one of the beautiful—”

  “You’re no wallflower, m’dear. You may like to think so, but it just ain’t so.”

  Sabrina sighed. It was nice to hear, of course, but one of them had to be realistic, or she’d be getting a swelled head and start hoping for something that just couldn’t be.