Sabrina woke with a smile, still savoring her dream. It had to be a dream, making love with Duncan MacTavish. Anything that wonderful, yet that unlikely, couldn’t have been real. She continued to think so until she noticed her clothes in a pile on the floor, and on top of the pile, her petticoat spotted with blood.

She sat down then in amazed wonder and continued to sit there on her bed in a near daze, remembering, and experiencing such incredulous delight, such utter . . happiness. She might have spent the entire day in her euphoric stupor if the rap on her door hadn’t signaled the arrival of the maid she shared with Hilary and Alice, causing her to make a mad dash to hide her petticoats before the door opened.

She couldn’t imagine how she managed to get through dressing and meeting her aunts downstairs without letting on that her life had changed or that she was so happy she could barely stand it. She wanted to share that happiness, to confess everything that had happened, but of course, she couldn’t. They might understand. They might get as excited as she was and expect an immediate announcement of marriage. And therein was why she would say nothing.

Duncan hadn’t asked her to marry him, though he did say they would talk this morning, which implied that he would. She did expect him to now, which was one reason she was so deliriously happy, but she would also make it clear to him that he wasn’t obligated to. If it had been just an impulse on his part, she wasn’t going to force him to marry her by letting others know about it. She wouldn’t regret it either way. How could she, when she loved him? But if he was going to ask her to marry him, it had to be for the right reasons, not because her aunts would demand it.

She couldn’t wait to get to Summers Glade to see Duncan this morning, and hurried her aunts out the door to the waiting coach. It was a bit disconcerting, though, to sit in that particular vehicle with the memories she now had of what had happened in it, and if her cheeks got a little red on the ride, at least her aunts didn’t notice.

They arrived in time for breakfast, which Hilary and Alice both promptly went off to have. Sabrina, hoping to find Duncan first, declined to join them. However, she ran into Raphael instead, who was determined to detain her.

She supposed she ought to tell him that he’d been right, at least partially. Duncan hadn’t needed “waking up” as Rafe had suggested, he’d merely needed opportunity, and she had certainly provided that in her mad dash from the mansion last night, which had prompted him to follow her. It just went to show why young women needed chaperones, when being alone with a man they were attracted to presented temptation in its purest form, which could very easily be impossible to resist.

But distracted as she was in searching the crowd in the drawing room for Duncan, she was only half listening to Raphael, though she did vaguely recognize the dryness of his tone and the distinct edge of disgust in it.

“The theme of this gathering has changed to one of celebration,” he said. “Course, it would depend on the individual, and come to think of it, I doubt either camp would have much reason to celebrate. Any fool madly in love with the ice queen won’t feel like celebrating, though they certainly ought to, since they’ve been saved from a fate worse than death, they just don’t know it yet. And any young lady who fancied she had a chance with our esteemed newcomer, yourself included, m’dear, will now be sadly disappointed.”

That last remark did manage to get Sabrina’s attention, enough to ask, “What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about happy tidings that don’t make a bit of bloody sense.”

“Well, thank you kindly for not making sense in explaining what doesn’t make sense.”

“Don’t mind me, Sabrina. I’d just prefer not to be the one to break the news to you,” he said with a sigh just before he walked off.

“Well, that was certainly enlightening,” Sabrina mumbled to herself.

She considered going after him for a better explanation, at least one that made sense, when she saw Hilary charge into the room, spot her, and march to her side to say, “I don’t believe it!”

Sabrina recognized the signs that Hilary was about to have a ranting fit, and by habit, tried to abate that. “I don’t either,” she agreed with an emphatic nod, but then with a grin, “What is it we don’t believe?”

“Don’t bother trying those tactics on me, dear, this is just too incredulous to shrug off. And I was so sure this time that I had the right of it. Just goes to show that speculating should be left to the London stockbrokers.”

Sabrina blinked. Had her aunt just made a joke, or was she serious? “You bought stock in something?”

Hilary made a snorting sound. “I’m not talking about stock, I’m talking about the vagaries of romance. I know that you maintained you were only friends, but I was certain there was more to it—”

“Wait a minute,” Sabrina interrupted in amused exasperation. “How did I get involved in this? Which of my friends are you talking about?”

Hilary frowned at her. “Don’t tell me you haven’t heard yet? It was announced last night right after Alice and I left, apparently, which is why we didn’t hear about it until just now. You, of course, had gone home with your headache, but surely someone has told you by now? It’s all anyone is talking about this morning.”

This was starting to sound exactly like the nonsensical conversation Sabrina had just had with Raphael, enough to start a premonition of dread. “What announcement was made?”

“That the ex-engaged couple have made up from the tiff that caused them to get unengaged in the first place, and are happily engaged again.”

The color drained from Sabrina’s face. The moment of dizziness that caused had her reaching for Hilary’s arm to steady herself. Hilary didn’t notice; she continued to expound on her disbelief.

“It just doesn’t make sense to me, indeed it don’t. Why go to all this trouble and the expense of this gathering, get all these young women here for the boy to make a choice from, if he knew all along that it was no more’n a tiff they’d had that could be repaired?”

“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 asking her to 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.”