“If who knew?”
“Neville, of course. I hope he realizes how much disappointment his announcement has caused. Celebrate indeed. It’s a bloody tragedy.”
Tragedy, no. Shock, yes. Unexpected, not really, merely forgotten for a short time, that it was the more likely outcome. So Ophelia had been right all along, and unfortunately, so had Sabrina. Last night with her and Duncan had merely been an impulse for him, an opportunity a healthy male wouldn’t pass up, and she certainly hadn’t tried to prevent it from happening. Nor could she regret it even now.
What hurt, though, what was devastating to her, was that he went from making love with her directly to making amends with Ophelia and askingherto marry him. A little time in between, even if only a week, would have lessened the blow. But apparently his making love to Sabrina had been the catalyst that made him realize where his true feelings lay.
Ophelia entered the room just then and was met with halfhearted congratulations from a few people, though she didn’t seem to notice, was radiating with triumph. Raphael had been correct in one thing, at least—no one really felt like celebrating this particular engagement. The young men there, with the exception of Raphael, who seemed to really not like her, were no doubt disappointed, if not brokenhearted, that Ophelia was officially unavailable again. And there was at least one female with shattered hopes.
Sabrina really couldn’t bear to listen to Ophelia gloat, yet knew she would if given the chance. And she suspected the only way to avoid that was to leave, and very quickly, before the London girl noticed her.
“I’m not feeling too well, Aunt Hilary.”
“Don’t blame you a’tall, m’dear. Feeling rather sick to my stomach myself. Shall we go home?”
“Yes, please.”
Thirty-three
The pounding on the door finally woke Duncan, enough to growl that he’d help whoever it was to roast himself over some hot coals if he didn’t take his pounding somewhere else. The person outside didn’t. He opened the door instead. Duncan didn’t notice, sitting there in the middle of his bed trying to hold his head together, since it truly felt like it was coming apart.
“You don’t look too good, old chap. Imbibe a bit too much while celebrating last night?”
Duncan opened one very bloodshot eye, pinned Raphael Locke with it, and said, “I’ll have tae find a vat o’ oil tae boil. Hot coals just willna do it for you.”
Raphael chuckled and pulled up a chair next to the bed. Duncan, seeing that his unwelcome visitor wasn’t getting the message that he was unwelcome, groaned and buried his head under his pillow.
Unfortunately, though Rafe’s voice was now muffled, it was still heard. “I know whyIwould be sick unto death this dreary morning, all things considered, but what’s your excuse? Since you’ve changed your mind about marrying Ophelia—”
“Why the devil would I do that?”
“Possibly because she’s so beautiful she takes your breath away?”
Duncan sat back up with a snort. “What an Englishmon may find fashionably beautiful, a Highlander might find pale and sickly. A Scotsmon would want his lass tae have a sturdy constitution and enough meat on her bones tae wi’stand a northern winter. D’you ken that Ophelia would ne’er survive in the north country, that she’d wilt at the first sign o’ bad weather? And bad weather is a constant there, no’ the exception. I would have realized that, e’en if she hadna turned me again’ her wi’ her vicious tongue.”
“But you will be living in England now, won’t you, so what’s the difference?”
“If I thought I’d ne’er see the homeland again, I’d wither and die m’self.”
“Then how is it, old chap, that you happen to be engaged to her again?”
It was there on the tip of Duncan’s tongue, an automatic answer, but this being the second time Rafe was implying that Duncan had changed his mind about Ophelia, it jarred a vague memory of why he had gotten falling-down drunk last night. And that stirred another, even more elusive memory of both his grandfathers confronting him with the news that he now had to marry Ophelia, and he was too drunk to care at that point. Had he really told them that? That he didn’t care?
Trying to remember it all was stabbing even worse pains through his head, so he finally gave up and replied, “No’ by my choice, I assure you.”
“Ah, so it’s like that, is it?” Raphael said, disgust and disappointment mixed equally in his tone. “Somehow I thought you would have a bit more of an independent nature, rather than jumping to do the old man’s bidding.”
“When did it become your bluidy concern, what the hell I do?”
“When I decided to take you under my wing, of course,” Raphael replied.
“Take your wing elsewhere, I’m no’ wanting it.”
Raphael chuckled. “Too late. I don’t abandon my friends just because they turn out to be absolute imbeciles.”
“Your last warning,friend.If you dinna get oout o’ here and let me die in peace—”
“Now, now, don’t make threats you cannot possibly carry out in your present condition.”
