The Heir lf-1

by Johanna Lindsay

  Ophelia wasn't really compromised beyond repair. It wasn't as if she and Duncan had actually made love. But Mavis would never agree to silence. Why would she, when she despised Ophelia? And the only thing keeping her quiet now was the engagement and forthcoming wedding.

  To end that, a second time, was out of the question, since it would give Mavis free rein to spread her sordid gossip.

  "You don't look very well," Neville said, breaking into her chaotic thoughts. "I don't believe I am," Ophelia replied miserably. "If you will excuse me?" She didn't wait for his permission. In fact, she nearly ran out of the room.

  Chapter Thirty-six

  The door slammed shut on Ophelia's exit from Neville's sitting room, making him wince at the unexpected sound. But then he leaned back in his chair with a thoughtful look, wondering if he hadn't overdone it a bit with the girl.

  "Having second thoughts, are ye?" Archibald asked when he poked his head around the large reading chair by the window where he had sat unnoticed, at least by Ophelia.

  "Second, third, and fourth is more like it," Neville said in a tired tone.

  "Och, dinna fash yerself, mon. If yer thinking she's the innocent in all this, yer dead wrong. She did something tae enrage the lad, or he wouldna hae taken his anger tae her, throwing caution tae the winds."

  "Did he ever tell you what that was, or at least what started it all?"

  Archibald sighed as he changed chairs, putting himself on the other side of Neville's desk. "He willna speak o' that night, no' e'en tae me. Believe me, I've asked, but he just gets angry again each time it's mentioned. He blames himself, and his temper, for the whole mess. And it's breaking m'heart tae see him sae miserable."

  "You think I like this any better?" Neville asked. "You were the one who claimed it didn't matter what the girl was made of, as long as she was beautiful. You see now that it does matter?"

  "Ye dinna need tae belabor the point," Archie grouched. "Why d'ye think I suggested ye hae that talk wi' her? She was looking tae bluidy pleased wi' the results o' this fiasco. Now she isna, and if anyone can figure a way oout o' this, it'll be a schemer like her. And ye did nae more'n tell her the truth, or did ye embellish a wee bit?"

  "Embellish, no. Overstressed a bit, indeed. Of course, I already knew she would never fit in here. Knew that after first meeting her, which is why I was so glad Duncan was able to see past her pretty face." Neville sighed at that point. "I just don't think that what was said here today is going to make any difference. There simply is no way to get out of this. The girl can’t break the engagement even if she does now wish she could. Her reputation will be shredded beyond repair if that little incident in her bedroom ever gets out. She knows that as well as we do."

  "But ye've heard nothing yet aboot it. The lass who walked in and saw them together in the bedroom,

  wherever she went, hasna spread any gossip aboot it. Did ye consider she just may no' be the type tae spread gossip? Even though she might hate Ophelia and relish her downfall as the lass claimed was the case, her scruples may prevent her from getting revenge in such a despicable way."

  "That isn't something that can be left to chance, Archibald, and well you know it. Whether Mavis Newbolt would have started the scandal or not is redundant. We had to assume the worst and take the steps to prevent it, which we did. We've heard nothing because it's passé gossip now, due to the announced engagement. What would have been shocking, now might only raise a brow or two. The engagement completely took the scandal out of the equation."

  "And ye've still had nae luck finding this lass?" Archie asked.

  Neville ran a hand through his white hair in frustration. "Completely disappeared, and now her parents as well."

  Archibald frowned, hearing that, and speculated, "Are they merely afeared o' ye?"

  Neville snorted. "I wish that were the case, but no. Lord Newbolt is the type of man who doesn't like to be questioned—about anything, and most particularly when he doesn't have the answers. I've been informed that he was quite livid when my man showed up at his door for the fourth time, refused to speak to him again, and soon after, took him and his wife out of London so they wouldn't be bothered further. If they did know where their daughter went when she left here, they aren't about to say so. My guess is that she hasn't let them know where she is, and that is one reason Lord Newbolt blew up about it."

  "Och, why in the bluidy hell does this hae tae be sae difficult? How hard can it be tae track down one wee lass? Are yer hirelings utter incompetents?"

  Neville ignored the last question, remarking, "It could simply be coincidence that we haven't found her yet. But I'm beginning to think otherwise, that she's gone into hiding instead. If she has, then we had better start turning our discussions into how to keep our future great-grandchildren away from the influence of their mother."

  Archibald waved that aside. "Ye'll simply send them tae me sooner than ye planned tae. She'll no' be wanting tae come tae the Highlands, believe me."

  "That is not an option," Neville growled,

  "Sae we're back to bickering amongst ourselves, are we?" Archibald shot back.

  "Not at all," Neville replied stiffly. "I'm merely pointing out that Duncan's children will be English, will learn a love for this country, will sound like Englishmen before you get your hands on them."

  "Dinna insult me more'n ye hae tae, mon, or I may be thinking ye dinna like me anymore," Archie remarked with a chuckle.

  Neville scowled at him. "I'm glad you got the point, though how you can find anything amusing about this situation baffles me."

  "The situation is no' the least bit amusing, but ye are when ye take on yer English airs. Now, dinna get all up in arms again, mon. We are on the same side in no' wanting the Reid lass in the family. Sae why do we no' just delay the bluidy wedding until the other lass can be found?"

  Neville was back to sighing. "Because the same outcome applies. If the girl is sitting on the scandal because it will do her little good to spread it just now, with the wedding pending, then what do you think she will do with the information she has if she suspects the engagement is just a farce? She might start spreading the tale then, and that will guarantee an immediate wedding."

  "D'ye ken who it is we're trying tae protect here, tae the detriment o' yer family and mine?"

  "If you are suggesting that we let Ophelia Reid take her own chances, and throw her to the wolves, so to speak, I have considered that, since she does hardly deserve our efforts to protect her after what she did—at least in my own opinion. I even alluded to it with Duncan, though indirectly. Now, tell me, what do you suppose his reaction was, when he considers himself responsible?"

  It was Archie's turn to sigh. "He's a good lad, Duncan is. E'en hating her, he'd nae see her harmed through a fault o' his. Sae that still leaves us searching for the Newbolt lass,, or hoping Lady Ophelia herself can think o' something tae get oout o' marrying Duncan, now ye've given her good incentive tae work on it."

  "You may think she's devious enough to come up with something, but I'm not counting on it, and will double efforts to find Mavis instead. Believe me, if I can find her, I will do whatever is necessary to gain her silence—pay her off, threaten her, plead with her, whatever it takes. But I have to find her first, and our time is running out."

  Chapter Thirty-seven

  With his wedding fast approaching, Duncan was finding it almost impossible to talk to anyone at Summers Glade without snapping at them, so he made an effort to avoid the remaining guests as much as possible. Fortunately, he was no longer the "main attraction" and thus didn't need to be in constant attendance anymore. This let him escape, which was how he saw it, for long periods each day, without causing too much comment about it when he returned.

  His grandfathers, the both of them, pretty much left him alone now. They had what they wanted—a bride, though neither seemed all that happy with the one he'd ended up with. Perhaps they found it as galling as he did, that she was the very last woman he would have cho
sen—if he had had a choice.

  He had never felt so trapped, and despondent, in his life. Not even finding out that he had to come to England to live with a grandfather he didn't know, or care to know, had affected him this adversely. That had enraged him. This having to marry a woman he didn't even like, and knew he never would, was eating him up inside with hopelessness.

  He needed cheering. He needed Sabrina. But he was beginning to think he'd never see her again, and that was adding greatly to his misery.

  He was afraid he'd lost her friendship, that she was deliberately avoiding him because she despised him now. And he couldn't even blame her. He'd taken advantage of her when she was greatly upset and most likely not thinking clearly. In reflection, she could hate him now for that. Worse, he'd gone from making love to her to getting engaged to another woman. He couldn't imagine what she thought about

  that, but it couldn't be to his good. Yet he'd been unable to explain—because she wouldn't see him.

  He'd gone to her house, he'd left notes. He'd been told she was indisposed, which could mean any number of things, including simply "go away." And though she was reputed to enjoy walking so much mat she took long walks every day, sometimes twice a day, he hadn't found her once out in the countryside. And he'd certainly tried to come across her. He traversed the road to Oxbow more than once each day, passing by Cottage by the Bow. He sat for hours on the hill where he first met her, hoping she'd take that path again. But not once did he see her, even from a distance.

  And then there she was, walking down the road far ahead of him, the winter wind whipping at her hair, bundled up in her thick coat, which hid her nicely rounded curves. He set his horse into a gallop to reach her. He kicked up dust when he did. He wanted to draw her into his arms and never let go of her, yet he found himself shouting down at her instead, all his frustration and worry and dread pouring out at her.

  "You're oout in this cold when you've been sick? Or have you no' really been sick? Why the devil would you no' see me when I came tae call on you?"

  She gave him a strange look. She opened her mouth to reply, closed it, opened it again, closed it yet again, tightly this time, and walked on. Walked on?

  He stared after her incredulously. But it gave him a moment to realize just how accusing he had sounded, and that anyone, even someone as carefree and effervescent as Sabrina was, or usually was, might take offense at it.

  He sighed and cantered after her. "Wait up, lass." She didn't. "At least talk tae me." She stopped, said simply, "We shouldn't be seen talking together, Duncan." "Why?"

  "You're engaged now. You have no business calling on other women—or detaining them on the road. If witnessed, it might give the wrong impression and get back to Ophelia, and we wouldn't want that, would we?"

  She walked away again, which infuriated him enough that he overlooked the bitterness he'd just heard in her tone. "Bedamned what she thinks," he growled. "I'll call on my friends if I choose tae, or are we nae longer friends?"

  That brought her marching back, but only to say, "Ophelia won't allow you to have women friends, Duncan, or aren't you aware of how jealous she is, or the bile she can spew because of it?"

  "Is that what happened that night tae upset you? She turned her vicious tongue on you?"

  She sighed at that point. "Not really. I was upset because I lost my own temper with her and stooped to her level of nastiness. That just isn’t me, and I was appalled that I let my own tongue run away with me."

  Sabrina lost her temper? He couldn't imagine it either, but he sure would have liked to see it. On second thought, no, he wouldn't. This stiff reservation she was showing him right now was bad enough, and he didn't like it one bit.

  He dismounted and came to stand in front of her. "At least your outburst had nae dire consequences, lass. Try losing your temper and having it ruin the rest o' your life."

  He said it so forlornly that she would have had to be completely indifferent to him not to ask, "Ruined how? What did you do?"

  "I was angry that you had been upset enough tae send you running pell-mell oout into the night. That it happened after you talked tae Ophelia told me the cause for it."

  "But she wasn't really why I was so upset. Her subtle insults don't usually bother me. It was my own behavior that shocked me."

  "Aye, but you wouldna say what had occurred when I asked you that night," he reminded her. "And by the time I returned tae Summers Glade, I was determined tae get the answer from the source. My anger built when I couldna find her. When I did finally locate her, I didna care that it was in an inappropriate place."

  "Where?"

  "Her bedroom."

  There were a dozen things that Sabrina could have said just then to lessen the impact of what she was hearing, but all that came out was, "Oh."

  "E'en that would have made nae difference if someone hadna come upon us there." "Who?"

  "Mavis Newbolt is her name. Ophelia claimed this lass hates her and would relish spreading the tale. My only hope is that isna so. But the lass has taken herself off and canna be found tae verify whether or no' she would make a scandal o' where she found us."

  "Are you saying this is why you're engaged to Ophelia again?"

  "Why else, lass?" he said. "You dinna think I want tae marry her?"

  "And this occurred after you... took me home?"

  "Aye."

  Sabrina glanced away from him. He heard what sounded suspiciously like a growl, but coming from her, doubted it. When she looked at him again, a long moment later, she was without expression and her tone was matter-of-fact.

  "Ophelia lies about many things, but how Mavis feels about her isn't one of them. She brought it on herself, though. They used to be friends, but only just recently had a falling out. It happened at Summers Glade, actually, but the result was, Ophelia tried her hardest to blacken Mavis's name."

  "How well d'you know this Mavis? Would she want tae get back at Ophelia, e'en if it meant hurting someone else tae do it?"

  "I'm sorry, Duncan, but I don't know her well enough to say. I liked her. She seemed quite nice—at

  least when she wasn't around Ophelia. When she was, she became rather catty and snide in her remarks. But then Ophelia seems to have that effect on a lot of people, bringing out the worst in them. It's an amazing quality, that."

  "Nae, what's amazing is that it would be assumed that I compromised her, merely because o' where we were seen t'gether, when I've ne'er touched her. And there doesna seem tae be any way tae get oout o' marrying her, unless ..."

  "Unless?"

  He turned around, wondering why he'd even thought of it, much less mentioned it, when it would be indirectly using her just to save himself. Not that the outcome wouldn't be infinitely more desirable, but it would still be taking advantage of her—again.

  "Never mind," he mumbled. " 'Twas a wayward thought best left unsaid."

  "I would think you would want to explore every option—if you really don't want to marry her."

  She'd said it rather stiffly, which had him turning back to her and countering defensively, "You dinna think I have? It stands oout plainly in my mind that I havena really compromised her, but I have compromised you. If I should be forced tae marry anyone, it should be you—och, that didna sound the way I meant it."

  Her voice went from stiff to much stiffer, even though she allowed, "However you meant it, it's not an option, Duncan, because it wouldn't alter the fact that Ophelia would be ruined if it gets out that you were in her bedroom alone with her. Doesn't matter that you've never touched her. A scandal is just that, and I know firsthand how detrimental one can be. Perception is everything where scandal is concerned, with truth and fact having little to do with it. And much as I have come to not like Ophelia, I will not be a party to her ruination, indirectly or otherwise."

  She walked off yet again after that. Duncan didn't try to stop her this time. The uplift in spirits he had hoped to get from an encounter with her hadn't occurred. If anything, he felt w
orse now. That she had seemed as down in spirits as he was the cause.

  Chapter Thirty-eight

  It was raining, hard enough to conceal most of the view outside. Duncan stood at the drawing room window watching the downpour, and wondering if Sabrina was watching it, too. She liked the rain, liked storms, liked anything to do with nature apparently, no matter the time of year. He remembered the joy in her expression when he'd taken her out onto that terrace in the rain ...

  "You can't keep avoiding me."

  It was distinctly jarring, hearing that particular voice behind him, even though he'd had warning that Ophelia might be approaching him, had seen her reflection in the window. The rain had darkened the late afternoon enough to cause the lamps to be turned on in the house, but he would probably have seen her reflection even without the light behind him, since she seemed to glow with her own internal light, her

  white-blond hair and pale skin only partly responsible.

  He didn't turn around. He really didn’t want to have a conversation with her, of any sort, but least of all on the subject of avoiding her. He simply hadn't decided yet how to deal with her.

  He could tell her the truth, that he could barely tolerate her, but that would no doubt lead to their living estranged once they wed, which, all things considered, sounded like an ideal arrangement— for him anyway. Or he could try to get along with her, to make the best of an unwanted marriage. He wasn't sure he could do that, but he could at least try. However, she was bound to sense, sooner or later, his true feelings, and that would probably lead back to an estranged relationship anyway, so why bother?

  But he had the answer to that. He would make an effort for Archie. Archie wanted him to marry and supply him with new heirs. He wouldn't be getting those heirs as he expected, but Duncan had plenty of time to make him see reason on that point. Yet he wouldn't be getting the heirs at all if Duncan couldn't manage to bed his own wife.

  "How will it look to people?"