But he'd been smiling when he left her, and that pleased her more than she could say, that she'd lightened his mood, because she had liked him. She didn't usually make such a judgment that quickly, but in his case it was hard not to like him, his voice, his smile, his sense of humor when he allowed it loose, and of course, the look of him. He had disturbed her senses in a myriad of ways, but she still had enjoyed every moment she had spent in his presence.
But she wasn't delusional. A man like him was not for the likes of her; he was for the Ophelias of the world. A shame, a pitiful shame really, that it was so, but there you had it. Beautiful for beautiful, and for her, a nice, plain-looking man, intelligent, resourceful, kind, someone who would enjoy taking walks with her, and laughing, and sitting on a hill watching the sunset together ...
Oh, my, the sun really was about to set. Wherever had the time got to?
Sabrina leapt to her feet and ran, nearly all the way, to Summers Glade. She entered the house at the back, so as to encounter fewer people who might see her windblown appearance, and finding the servants' stairs, made it up to her room. Her aunt Alice was there, however, so she wasn't going to escape complete notice. But Alice had been impatiently waiting on her—and packing for her—so she really didn't spare her more than a brief glance before bringing another dress to the open valise on the bed.
She did spare the query, "Wherever have you been? We should have left hours ago with everyone else."
"Everyone else? So Lord Neville didn't like having London descend on him after all?"
Alice tsked. "Whether he did or didn't, he was agreeable to having a house party, then suddenly he wasn't, but no more than to be expected from that senile old coot. And there we were just getting ready to go down, when his housekeeper came round to ask us to leave. Poor woman was quite embarrassed
about it, too."
Sabrina moved to help her aunt finish the packing. "You can't blame Lord Neville, when having this gathering wasn't his idea. He no doubt feels that Ophelia and her fiancé should have some time alone together, to become acquainted—"
"Hard to do that, m'dear, when the Reids have already left to return to London."
"Left?" Sabrina frowned. "Just because the marquis declined to entertain grandly? Ophelia really wouldn't get into a snit about that, would she?"
"I've no idea. Didn't see them before they left. Hilary might have. You can ask her."
Sabrina did that, while they waited in the entryway with their baggage. The housekeeper had sent for one of Lord Neville's own vehicles, since they had no other transportation, having arrived with the Reids.
"Mary said she would write me," Hilary replied in answer to Sabrina's question. "She said she was too upset to talk of it just now, and poor dear, she did look quite upset."
"And Ophelia? Did you see her?"
"Yes," Hilary said, then in a whispered aside, "And she appeared to have finally been chastised by her father, for being so presumptuous. Quite pink, her one cheek was. I don't hold with physical discipline, but Mary's girl has been allowed to take on airs that should have been nipped in the bud long ago."
Sabrina was amazed. "Her father actually slapped her?"
Hilary nodded. "That handprint on her cheek would suggest so."
"But they didn't object when she invited us here," Sabrina pointed out.
"We hardly would have been noticed if it had only been us, but fifty-six people arrived here today, all invited by Ophelia, as if she were already the marquise and had every right to invite whomever she pleased. It's no wonder Neville put his foot down after he finally got a full head count. I would have, too, I don't mind saying, if the guests I do invite happen to invite fifty-six others. M'dear, that just isn't proper form."
Of course it wasn't, and Ophelia did no doubt know that. But then Sabrina had never spoken to her aunts about Ophelia's attempt to sabotage her engagement to be rid of what had been an unwanted fiancé. She just hadn't felt comfortable talking about it, when she so disapproved of it, and Ophelia's mother was Hilary's good friend.
This latest scheme of Ophelia's to have half the ton descending on Summers Glade had likely been done just to infuriate the marquis. But then that was before she had actually met her fiancé, and if she had met him by now, she was undoubtedly regretting what she had set in motion.
It was all very complicated, Ophelia's plans and means of accomplishing them. Sabrina was quite glad to be out of it. She had been raised to be straightforward. Setting up complicated schemes in the hopes that they would have a particular desired effect just wasn't her cup of tea. It had never been dull, being around Ophelia, but Sabrina was actually looking forward to a bit of dullness again.
However, she was hoping for one more sight of Duncan MacTavish before she left Summers Glade, since she wasn't likely to see him again after today, at least not until the wedding, which they were sure to be invited to. With Ophelia gone back to London, he would probably be going there as well. But wherever he was in the big house, it wasn't near the entrance, and they were soon on their way home.
Chapter Fourteen
"Well, where is she? I mun admit I've been looking forward tae meeting this most bonny lassie in all o' England that ye found for the lad."
Neville bristled as the large Scotsman barged into his dining room where he'd been partaking of a solitary dinner. Neville's butler, arriving a second later, gave him a pained look, that he hadn't arrived first to give him warning of this intrusion.
"Archibald?" Neville guessed.
"Aye, and who else were ye expecting?"
"Certainly not you," Neville said disagreeably. "What the devil are you doing here?"
The Scot pulled up a chair across from Neville and stared at the butler, as if expecting him to serve him, now that he was there. But to Neville he said, "Ye didna think I'd be leaving it tae ye tae make sure the wedding goes forward in a timely manner, did ye now?"
"Duncan made no mention that you were coming," Neville pointed out.
Archie chuckled at that. "Perhaps because he didna know I was. The boy doesna do things in a relaxed manner, ye ken. Once he sets his mind on a course, he follows it straightaway. Not a bad trait tae have, but a wee bit tae fast paced for these auld bones o' mine. He would've been impatient tae hae me holding him back on the trip here, sae I decided tae follow after at a slower pace, withoout telling him. Impatience annoys him, after all, and ye wouldna hae wanted him arriving here annoyed—more'n he already was."
The last was added in an unmistakably smug tone. Neville didn't miss it and just managed to keep from grinding his teeth in his own annoyance.
"Yes, that's quite a large chip he arrived with on his shoulder. I wonder why."
Archibald snorted. "Ye'll no' be blaming me for that, mon. 'Twas no' me tha' decided he should hae the stability o' knowing only one home whilst growing up, 'twas ye and his muther decided that. A good decision, mind ye, tha' I was happy tae agree wi', but ye could've come tae visit him, tae let him know ye afore he was full grown."
"After the first trip I made up there to do that nearly killed me?"
"Och, ye English are weaklings, tae shrivel in a wee bit o' cold," Archie said in disgust, aware of that one time Neville had tried to venture into the Highlands. "But if he hasna told ye, it wasna that he never
met ye afore now that has him in such a fash, 'tis that yer taking him from his home and expecting him tae live amongst strangers."
"We won’t be strangers to him for long."
"And that he had nae warning that ye'd expect him tae move here."
Neville blushed slightly, unable to dispute that accusation, and said weakly in his defense, "Elizabeth should have told him."