The Heir

Chapter Two

Sabrina Lambert was nervous, but for her aunts' sake, she tried her best not to show it. Her come-out had been a year in the planning, which included several trips to Manchester for fittings for her new wardrobe. And she knew her aunts had such high hopes for her. That was why she was nervous. She really didn't want them to be disappointed, when they'd put so much effort into this launch.

But she was realistic even if they weren't. She didn't expect to find a husband here in London. The people here were much too sophisticated, while she was just a simple country girl. She was used to conversations about crops and tenants and the weather, while the London ton thrived on gossip, salacious gossip—about each other. And there would be dozens of other hopeful young misses all descending on London for the same purpose. It was considered the place to find a husband.

But Sabrina began to relax as the evening progressed. It helped that she had a friend in Ophelia, who was so very popular. But then Ophelia had been born and raised in London. She already knew everyone, was already aware of all the current on-dits, and even helped to spread the latest gossip—even if it was

about herself. The London girl was in her element. And she'd also had her launch at the very start of the Season three weeks prior.

Not that arriving in time for the first ball of the Season would have made much of a difference, when Ophelia was destined to be the success of the Season, as beautiful as she was. And ironically, she wasn't even shopping for a husband, already had a fiancé, although she'd never met him. Her own launch was merely a matter of course—at least Sabrina had thought so until she found out that Ophelia wasn't exactly happy with the husband her parents had arranged for her, and had every intention of finding a better match.

How she was setting about accomplishing that, which was to slander and ridicule her fiancé every chance she got and to anyone who would listen, Sabrina found highly distasteful. But for all she knew, that was how it was done in London, the getting rid of one's unwanted fiancé, that is.

And she might have personally felt sorry for the man in question, who apparently wasn't even in England and so couldn't put a stop to the rumors that Ophelia was spreading about him, but it wasn't her place to defend him. It could all be true, after all. How was she to know?

Besides, Ophelia's mother was their hostess and Aunt Hilary's good friend. While Lady Mary might want to know what her daughter was up to so she could put a stop to it, Sabrina wouldn't feel right being the one to tell her. Ophelia had befriended her, was introducing her to all her friends. It would be like betraying her. And furthermore, her own aunts didn't like the man’s grandfather ...

That was the strange part, and probably why Sabrina felt sorry for Ophelia's fiancé. He was actually her neighbor, or rather, his grandfather was. The "old coot," her aunts called him, "the recluse," and when they thought she wasn't listening, "the old bastard." Sabrina had never met him herself. He really was a recluse who rarely left his estate. And it had certainly been news to them that he had a grandson. Her aunts had actually scoffed when they learned that Ophelia had been affianced to this heretofore unknown heir. What grandson? They'd never met or even heard of him.

According to Lady Mary, however, it was the marquis himself who had contacted her husband and made the arrangements for the marriage on his grandson's behalf. And of course, the Reids had jumped at the chance for their daughter to be married to such a lofty title, which the grandson was going to inherit. It didn't hurt, either, that the marquis was quite rich and all that wealth would be coming to the grandson as well. It was only Ophelia who was unhappy with the match, well, Ophelia and her many ardent admirers.

She had those in abundance. The young men flocked about her, utterly entranced by her beauty, and apparently that had been the case at each affair she had thus far attended. But how could they not be? She was blond and blue eyed. You couldn't be much more fashionable than that. But she also had the most exquisitely lovely features, and a figure that, unlike her mother's, was willowy thin.

Sabrina, now, could claim none of those appealing attributes. She was on the short side at only a couple inches above five feet, which wouldn't be so bad if she didn't have such plump breasts or such wide hips, which made her altogether too curvaceous with her narrow waist.

But even that wouldn't have been so bad if her coloring were at least fashionable, but it was just the opposite. Her hair was a dull brown, not even a lustrous brown or a rich brown, but utterly dull, and her eyes, which really were her best feature, or so she used to think, were the color of spring lilacs, yet ringed with a darker violet, so they were actually quite startling when first noticed.

She found out just how startling when everyone she met, men and women alike, stared at her eyes an embarrassingly long time, as if they couldn't quite believe they were the color they were. And to top all that off, her features were rather plain, not ugly by any means, but not what one would call pretty either. Plain did describe them very well.

Actually, Sabrina had never been quite so unhappy with her own looks—until she met Ophelia and saw what a real beauty looked like. Like night and day, there was no comparison between the two of them. Which was quite possibly why Sabrina began to relax soon after they arrived at her first ball that night, and completely forget her previous nervousness. She was realistic enough to know that she couldn't possibly compete for the young gentlemen's attention with Ophelia there, and so she gave up any hope of even trying. And once she did relax, she was able to be herself rather than the stiff, timid little mouse she had been feeling like.

Sabrina enjoyed a good laugh as much as anyone, and made an effort to bring laughter to others. She could be outspoken, but she also had a teasing nature. She had a gift for lightening someone's mood when it was most sour. With two grumbling, always bickering aunts, she'd had many years to perfect that gift, and had little trouble ending their little fights when she chose to intervene.

The gentlemen who asked her to dance that night might have done so only so they could question her about Ophelia and her fiancé. But since she didn't know Ophelia very well yet, and her fiancé not at all, she could hardly answer their questions. She made them laugh, though. A few of them even asked her to dance again for that very reason—she was amusing. And at one point in the evening she actually had three young men wanting to dance with her at the same time.

Unfortunately, Ophelia happened to notice that. ..