Duncan grimaced. Trust Archie to make his point as well, and one he couldn't dispute.
"So I took one evening off from wife hunting, tae plain and simply enjoy m'self," Duncan said. "You begrudge me e'en that, do you?"
"Nay, as long as it was only the one evening. But this party canna go on indefinitely, lad. And ye'll no'
be finding a better opportunity than this one tae make a choice. I've ne'er in m'life seen sae many fine lassies gathered in one place before. Auld Neville did verra well in his selection o' who tae invite here, making it easy for ye tae do the same. Use yer time more wisely, is all I'm asking."
Duncan agreed that he would, yet when he came downstairs a bit later, it was Sabrina he was unconsciously looking for as he passed through each room. Unfortunately, it was Ophelia he found instead, or rather, she found him, stepping into his path so he was forced to stop or rudely ignore her.
He would have done the latter without hesitation, since he'd said all he cared to say to her yesterday. If she hadn't gotten the point, that was no fault of his. But she wasn't alone, had two other girls with her, and he was keeping Archie's admonishments in mind.
He'd met her two companions briefly, but too briefly for him to remember their names, when he'd been introduced to more than a hundred people in the last two days. Each was rather pretty, though, so worth getting to know a little better, he supposed, and that meant not being rude just now. But he changed his mind about that abruptly with the first words out of Ophelia's mouth.
"I believe you've met my two very dear friends, Edith and Jane?"
Anyone who could call herself a good friend of hers, he didn't want to know any better. Sabrina was the exception to that, but then she had never claimed to be a friend of Ophelia's, had mentioned obligations instead.
"Indeed," he said without sparing a glance for Ophelia. Looking at her companions instead, he added before walking around them, "A pleasure, ladies, but if you'll excuse me, I havena eaten yet."
"He's awfully—" There was a pause as Jane tried to think of a word other than rude to describe Duncan's attitude. She settled on, "— abrupt, isn't he?" as they all watched him leave the room.
"A Scots trait, I would imagine," Ophelia said in a bored tone.
She was actually glad that he hadn't stayed. She'd been seen talking to him. That was all she was interested in at the moment.
"Will you accept when he asks you to marry him again—that's if he doesn't take the request to your father instead this time?" Edith asked.
Ophelia pretended to give that some thought. "I haven't quite made up my mind yet. There is Lord Locke to consider now, after all."
"Of course," Jane replied. "He hasn't met you yet, but that can be rectified immediately. Sabrina could introduce you if she's still with him."
Ophelia's bored stance ended with amazing swiftness. "I don’t need an introduction," she said tersely. "And certainly not by Sabrina. I will meet Raphael Locke when I am ready to meet him— perhaps tonight. You did say there was supposed to be dancing in the ballroom tonight?"
"We heard that mentioned, yes."
"Excellent. I do have a new ball gown for just such an occasion."
"Ah, Ophelia dear, I don't think the dancing tonight will quite be classified as a ball," Jane warned. "Things are much more informal in the country."
"Nonsense, a ball is a ball, no matter where it's held. And I do want to look my best when I meet him for the first time. A splendid new ball gown assures that."
Jane started to protest further, but a look from Edith changed her mind. Ophelia was still their friend, they still wanted to bask in her popularity, but neither of them had liked the way she had turned on Mavis, who had also been their friend. And Mavis's prediction was weighing heavily on them, since they could both see how easily it could come to pass.
So if Ophelia wanted to overdress for the evening, that was her business. If she was embarrassed by it, that was also her business. She'd been warned, but typically, no one's opinion but her own mattered to her.
Chapter Twenty-five
By the time Duncan finished eating his breakfast, he was quite proud of himself. He had managed to accomplish a lot of socializing by taking his plate with him, as he'd seen others do, and making a circuit of the downstairs rooms, stopping here and there to pass out a compliment or remark on the storm that had blown in and was now battering at the windows.
If any guests had considered an outing for the day, they had now changed their minds. But then no one really cared to go out in winter, even if it weren't raining, when there were enough activities to occupy them indoors.
Card games were already in progress, some merely friendly, but most with gambling involved—a pastime the English ton seemed to find particular enjoyment in. Charades were being enacted in the drawing room amidst much laughter. The billiards room sported not one, but two tables which kept many of the older gentlemen busy, including Archie—Neville hadn't made an appearance yet.
A young lass was entertaining a group of ladies in the music room, a pretty girl with a touch of red in her blond hair who caught Duncan's eye. You'd have to be deaf to enjoy her singing, though, so he didn't stay long there.
He would have lingered in the drawing room, but that was where Ophelia was now holding court, which was too bad, since Amanda Locke was also there, and he had been thinking he'd get to know her a little better. Just because he didn't like her brother was no reason to discount one of the prettier lasses there. She wasn't as beautiful as Ophelia, but then it was unlikely that anyone could be. Ophelia was an oddity, too pretty and well aware of it.
He had covered all the rooms when he realized he hadn't seen Sabrina in any of them. The only two he hadn't checked were the ballroom, not used during the day, and Neville's study, also unused since it had pretty much been given over to Neville's estate manager, who'd been given leave while the house was entertaining. Sabrina's aunt who had been with her last evening was in the music room with another woman about the same age, but Sabrina wasn't with them either.
It occurred to Duncan then that Sabrina might not have come to Summers Glade. How ironic, that he would now have to suffer Ophelia's presence, yet the boon he was supposed to have for it, Sabrina's company, was going to be denied him. But why wouldn't she come herself when the rest of her household was here, even her guest?
Before he asked her aunt that very question, he checked the last two rooms. He found the study had been locked—a wise precaution, he supposed. The ballroom wasn't, but it was dark inside due to the storm, and empty as it should be; at least at a glance it seemed to be. A slight movement caught his eye, though, just as he was closing the door, and there she was, across the room, standing at the side of one of the glassed balcony doors. It was the lilac wallpaper behind her, which was about the same shade as her dress, that had blended her with the room, nearly hiding her.
Sabrina heard him approaching, and without looking, knew it was Duncan. There was something about his stride, so brisk, that was quite recognizable. Her pulse picked up a beat, an odd occurrence that happened each time he was near. She wondered why he was there. It wouldn't be for the same reason she was, she was sure.
As soon as the storm had begun, she had sought a quiet place to observe the primal magnificence of nature unleashed in full fury. She loved storms as much as she did gentle rain. While some people might grow nervous at the rumble of thunder or a whip-crack of lightning, she actually found such things soothing and would as soon be out in the midst of it.