The Heir

Chapter Thirty-five

Ophelia was working herself into a snit on the short ride back to Summers Glade. She had accomplished what she'd wanted to, got that silly business of apologizing out of the way, so that things could be back to normal with Sabrina. She hoped she had managed to succeed in at least that, because she really was getting bored at Summers Glade, and Sabrina could alleviate that quite nicely.

There simply weren't enough of the London crowd left at the mansion to keep her amused. Duncan even ignored her, still in a huff, she supposed, because they'd had to get engaged again. Too bad for him. She hadn't instigated his entrapment, he'd done that all on his own, though she couldn't deny it had worked

out wonderfully in her favor.

She never would have thought he'd do anything so rash, though, as to enter her bedchamber. That was so inappropriate, even if she hadn't been half dressed. But she really had thought he was there to patch things up between them, so she could forgive him for his impetuosity. Then to find he was only there because of Sabrina. That was really the last straw, particularly after the country girl had shown her true colors earlier, that she wasn't miss "sweet and smiles" after all, but could be quite a nasty little shrew.

But his mention of Sabrina had reminded Ophelia of her earlier conversation with her. And she'd recalled, specifically, having spoken of a situation that would lead to her being compromised, a false one, but regardless, the current one hadn't been fabricated at all.

Ironically, she never would have thought of it, if not for that earlier mention. But having it recalled, she had then been trying to think how she could keep Duncan there after he was done with his rant, at least until one of the other girls showed up, when Mavis of all people opened the door. It had been too perfect. Ophelia really couldn't have planned it better if she had planned it herself. And she'd had to do nothing to accomplish it, which was even more ironic. Duncan had brought the whole thing down on his own head.

And it had been a simple matter, after he stormed off, to locate Lord Neville and point out to him the bare facts. He was old school. He didn't need convincing that Duncan had compromised her beyond repair; that was plain enough.

He had made an effort to find Mavis, though, but fortunately, with no luck, so he'd been forced to make the announcement of his grandson's engagement that very night.

Edith and Jane had left the next afternoon, just as many of the other young ladies had, along with their escorts. Ophelia actually had the bedroom that she'd been sharing with eight others to herself now.

Mavis had left that very night, which was why Lord Neville had been unable to find her. She no doubt didn't want to take the chance that she would be browbeaten by the marquis or Duncan into keeping her mouth shut about what she'd seen, when she had no intention of keeping her mouth shut. Why else leave immediately, without even packing her bags? She'd simply collected her cousin who had escorted her there, called for their carriage, and left. But then Ophelia would have done the same thing if she had such a juicy morsel of gossip to share, so she understood perfectly.

Announcing the engagement, before that gossip could be passed around, totally deflated it. Lovers' trysts would be snickered at but forgiven for an engaged couple, whereas it was complete ruination for the woman if there was no engagement involved. So Mavis had nothing to gain now by spreading the tale. She had no doubt thought she'd get some revenge out of it, but had instead helped Ophelia get what she wanted. It was too funny.

But now, on the way back to Summers Glade, Ophelia couldn't help thinking she might have made matters worse with Sabrina, and that's why she was annoyed with herself when she shouldn't be. She was not going to feel guilty about lying to Sabrina. The chit had deserved it, for trying to steal Duncan from her. But she did want Sabrina to be her friend again, so she probably should have tried to find out why the timing of her confrontation with Duncan had seemed so important to her, instead of lying about it.

When she returned to the mansion, she found a summons from Lord Neville. She didn't know how long he had been waiting on her, since she hadn't been there to receive the summons, but she went straightaway now to his sitting room, where she was directed.

She had been expecting a talk with him much sooner than this, but he, too, had been ignoring her since the announcement. Yet an apology was in order. After all, she was the innocent party in this, and would have been seriously wronged if she didn't want to marry Duncan, but was now forced to because he'd compromised her. Fortunately, she did want to marry him, but that didn't need to be mentioned until after she had the apology owed her.

She was quite mistaken, however, in the reason for this meeting. She no sooner sat down in the chair across from Lord Neville's desk than he stated in a hard tone, "Aside from the fact that your parents have been informed of what occurred and will be arriving shortly, we have a few matters that I feel need immediate discussion."

"Certainly," Ophelia replied with some misgiving, since his tone implied she probably wasn't going to like this discussion as she'd thought.

"I have been informed, by a number of different sources, that you have a bad habit of starting gossip and rumors."

She took immediate offense. He was going to give her a scolding when they weren't even related yet? "Everyone gossips, Lord Neville," Ophelia pointed out stiffly.

"Not everyone, but those who do don't usually do so with malicious intent. I am merely letting you know, Lady Ophelia, that this sort of behavior won't be tolerated. Once you marry into this family, you will conduct yourself in a manner that is above reproach."

She was shocked and insulted now. Malicious? Her? The very idea. She might find it necessary to put people in their place occasionally, she might have to exact revenge occasionally, too, but maliciously? Hardly.

But he was no doubt referring to her campaign to make Duncan a laughingstock so that she could get out of an engagement she hadn't wanted at the time. That incident, he would take personally. But she hadn't been malicious about it, and it hadn't actually hurt Duncan in the least. It had merely been a means to an end.

"If you find my behavior objectionable, sir, simply say so, but don't accuse me of something that—"

"My dear girl," he interrupted calmly. "If you have been listening, you would have heard that I do find your behavior objectionable. The very fact that I have had numerous people point out to me your habits speaks for itself. You are being gossiped about, and that is unacceptable. Sit down!" he barked when she stood up indignantly.

Ophelia dropped back into her chair. Her cheeks were now burning. If he weren't such a high personage, she would have marched out of there immediately. It was only that that kept her there. It certainly wasn't that he frightened her with his harsh tones and quelling looks.

"Do not misunderstand," he continued in that calm, if implacable, tone. "This conversation would have taken place previously if Duncan hadn't refused to marry you after first meeting you. You need to understand that marrying into this family entails a great responsibility on your part that you may not have been trained for or were expecting."

"I am the daughter of an earl," she replied haughtily. "I assure you my education was not lacking."

The look he gave her was entirely too skeptical to soothe her ruffled feathers, and in fact he continued in the same vein. "Your parents have lived in London for most of your life, so the education you received may not have been the one that will serve you here. This is a working estate. As the future marquise, you will have specific duties that will take up a great deal of your time and bring you into contact with a wide assortment of individuals from chimney sweeps to vicars to the queen herself. But no matter who you will have to deal with, you will conduct yourself as befitting the Marquise of Birmingdale."

"What sort of work?" she asked, frowning.

"The normal duties associated with an estate this size. I assume you have at least been trained in the running of a large household? My secretary will instruct you in the actual estate duties, which will be in addition to your household duties. Suffice it to say, you will have very little time for leisure, entertaining—or gossip."

"No entertaining?" she asked incredulously.

He couldn't be serious. She associated a peer of his stature with lavish entertainments on a regular basis. The ladies of his rank in London were the premier hostesses of the city, their invitations highly sought after. Of course she had envisioned taking her place among them, and being the queen of the lot.

But he was serious, or certainly sounded so as he explained further, "We are not in the habit of entertaining here, far from it. This current gathering was a rare exception for a specific purpose. It won't be repeated. Nor do we keep a house in London, which would be a frivolous expense, when we never go to London."

"I have family in London," she reminded him. "Of course I will vis—"

"Your family can visit here," he cut in. "I was quite serious when I said you wouldn't find time to travel or entertain. Nor will Duncan, not that he would want to. You will need to readjust your thinking in that regard. Consider yourself country now."

She knew what he meant by that, unfortunately. The gentry who lived on their country estates, rather than just visiting them from time to time, rarely left them. They shunned London. They didn't participate in the gay London Season. They more or less gave up any claim to sophistication and became country. They gained new interests; weather, crops, market prices. The London ton, at least those of her circle, scorned such nobles and likened them to the working class.

Ophelia pinched herself, hoping she was just having a nightmare. She wasn't. And this was not what she had taken for granted when she had decided that Duncan would do for her after all. His future title and good looks were not worth the horror that Lord Neville had just described.

But she realized, with growing despair, that she was now stuck with Duncan whether she liked it or not, and simply because she had made an enemy of Mavis. If Mavis were still her friend, she would agree to never say anything about that scene she had walked in on. Of course she would agree, particularly after she was assured that nothing had really happened.

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.