Duncan sighed inwardly. He had to stop these kinds of thoughts. She wasn't interested in him that way, had never once looked at him with other than camaraderie. She considered him a friend. A fine friend he would be if he pounced on her every chance he got.

He was going to frighten her away if he didn't get control of this sudden attraction he was finding to her. Much as he might like to steal another kiss or two from her, he would much rather have her friendship, which he was finding he valued beyond measure.

But he could dance with her. Even she would think nothing of it, probably did expect him to at least ask her for a twirl about the floor. One dance, and then he would get back to the matter of finding a wife.

Chapter Twenty-nine

"Will you marry me, Sabrina?"

She imagined that he had waited until they were twirling about the dance floor before springing that shocking question on her so she wouldn't just walk off and ignore it as it deserved. She did miss a step and almost tripped them both. And she didn't find him amusing. Marriage was nothing to tease about, really, at least not in such a direct way.

"Don't be absurd," she finally told him. "You know very well that you and I wouldn't suit. Nor would your family approve, as if I need to point that out, when you know it very well."

"If those are your only objections, then we can set a date for the wedding."

She rolled her eyes at him. He was joking. She just wished she could find it a matter for joking as well. Not that she wouldn't have been exceptionally flattered if she thought he was serious. But she was realistic, knew she wasn't a prime catch like he was, even if she didn't have a scandal attached to her name. But she did come packaged with an old scandal, and most families, particularly those that prided themselves on having pristine ancestry, would summarily cross her off a list of possibilities for their heirs.

And besides, she had decided that very afternoon that she was never going to marry, after coming to the heartbreaking conclusion that she loved a man she could never have. Marrying someone else just wouldn't be fair to the man in question, even if that man was Raphael Locke, who might deserve it for treating this subject so frivolously.

"Why won't you believe me?" Raphael asked after her silence continued. "I'm not blind, Rafe," she said uncomfortably.

He ignored the reference to her looks, said instead, "You're wonderful, is what you are. I'd much rather marry someone I truly enjoy being with than some snooty chit who spends all her time primping in front of a mirror."

She laughed. "Well, I'd have to admit mirrors and I don't get along too well. But if I did believe you, my answer would have to be no."

"Why?"

How to explain without really explaining? She decided not to try, to turn the tables on him instead.

"You aren't the least bit devastated by my refusal, which proves you don't love me."

"Well, no, but I like you well enough, and I've no doubt love would blossom in no time a'tall."

She snorted at him. "Now, why would you hope for such an occurrence, rather than wait for it to happen first and then proceed in a more natural order? Why would you even want to get married as young as you are, when you don't have to, and love isn't involved?"

He gave her a wounded look. "You don't think you could learn to love me?"

"When I haven't given you the least indication that I'm interested, might you not conclude that my interest lies elsewhere?"

"Aha! Are we going to confess now that we love someone else?"

She blinked at him. He seemed too triumphant by half with that conclusion.

"Is that what this is all about? You're looking for a grand confession that—"

"Now, now, don't say something we will both regret. No, I'm hoping two people I like will wake up and see what's in front of them before it's too late."

There was a serious side to Raphael Locke, and she was seeing it now. It actually made him much more attractive than his usual attitude of jocularity, but she only barely noticed that.

"And which two people are those?" she asked, her eyes narrowing on him suspiciously.

"You, of course, and that dunderhead Highlander," he replied simply.

Sabrina blushed furiously. Good God, how could he possibly have guessed her feelings when she had only just discovered them herself? Was she obvious about it? Staring at Duncan too long, perhaps? Looking at him in a way she shouldn't? She was mortified to think she might be. Or was it only because she had spent so much time with Duncan the other night, and that had been taken note of? If that was the case, then Raphael was only guessing, and she wasn't about to give him yet another reason to exclaim, Aha!

"You are mistaken," she said succinctly. "Duncan and I are just friends."

He didn't exactly snort, but it was definitely a similar sound of skepticism that he made. That he made no comment, though, and the silence continued, forced her to elaborate. He was obviously still harboring false assumptions—at least where Duncan was concerned. Her own feelings hardly counted when they weren't returned.

"I can’t imagine where you got this silly idea from," she said. "Duncan even discusses with me his dilemma in needing to pick a wife from among those in attendance here. I was going to recommend your sister to him. That should please you, since, as you say, you like him."

Raphael chuckled now. "Trouble is, I do like him, so I would not wish my sister on him, who would drive him batty within a month."

She frowned at him. "Bosh. You adore your sister. How can you not, when she's so charming? Perhaps it's your constant teasing of her that causes her to act in such a way that might cause someone to go batty."

He smiled. "Perhaps, but hardly the point. He might be dancing with her now." He paused to take a moment to spot the other couple in the crowd on the dance floor. "But take it from a man who would recognize the signs, m'dear. He isn't the least bit interested in my little sister."

"And what, pray tell, makes you think he's interested in me that way?"

"Possibly because he looks for you when you're not with him. Possibly because he's already sent a couple scowls my way since I've been dancing with you. Possibly because Lady Ophelia is here when she shouldn't be here, but she's here because he couldn't stand it that you wouldn't be here unless she was."

Sabrina stared at him blankly for a moment until that last long sentence unjumbled itself enough to make sense in her mind. She then sighed.

"You misunderstand completely Duncan's reactions, but then of course you would, since you aren't aware of all the circumstances involved."

"Which would be?"

"Basically, the effect I have on some people. I'm quite aware of it. In fact, I work at it diligently." He was frowning now. "What are you talking about? What effect?"

"I put people at ease, Rafe. Whatever is bothering them, aggravation, frustration, real anger, et cetera, I'm able to tease them out of it with simple silliness or a laugh or two. It really is amazing, how beneficial a little thing like laughter is. But in Duncan's case, he's been overset with all of the negative emotions since coming here, since he really didn't want to come here. And both his grandfathers have been causing him extra frustration in insisting he get this marriage business over with quickly. And to be truthful ..." She whispered now. "I don't think he likes Lord Neville a'tall. I wouldn't presume to ask why, but from certain remarks he's made, I have gathered as much."

"And your point in all of that?"

She rolled her eyes at him. "Wretch, you got the point very well. He's constantly angry or frustrated or whatever, and I'm able to make him forget his troubles for a bit, that's all. Now, wouldn't you often seek out someone who was able to help you forget for a while that you're facing the guillotine in the morning?"

He laughed at that point. "Touché. Indeed, I'd package you up and take you home with me."

Sabrina grinned. "Well, Duncan doesn't have to go that far, since I live in the neighborhood. He knows very well he can always come visiting when he needs cheering up."

"That's assuming he thinks you'll always be available, but what if you marry and move out of the neighborhood? D'you think he's considered that?"

"Why would he, when it's very likely I'll follow in my aunts' footsteps and never marry?"

"Good God, what a waste!" he said in exaggeration, then seriously, "You don’t really think that a silly scandal like yours is would stop someone from marrying you if he really wants to marry you, do you?"

"Actually, I know it will, and you know it will, when the object of most marriages is to continue the line with heirs, and if my particular scandal is believed, then I won't last long enough to beget heirs."

Raphael's snort was most definitely a snort this time. "You know very well you have no intention of ever kicking the bucket intentionally, and anyone with any sense a'tall would know it as well, when you are obviously so very full of laughter and joy of life. There isn't a melancholic bone in your little body, m'dear."

She gave him a wide-eyed look. "Well, no, there isn't, but where did you get the idea that anyone has any sense—aside from the two of us, of course?"

He laughed heartily. "Gads, I suppose when you look at it that way, you're quite right. Of course, if you were to agree to marry me—not to actually do so, mind you, but just to, well, to pretend, so to speak—what do you think Duncan's reaction would be?"