The Lover
“You need not tell me,” Sabrina murmured wryly. “I am well aware of my aunt’s subservience to fashion. How is my aunt, by the bye?” she asked to change the subject.
“Well enough, not that you care. I hear you have been in town more than a sennight, yet you have never called on us.” Her cousin frowned petulantly. “I cannot think why not. It is not like you to be so self-centered.”
“Oliver said you were unwell.”
Frances’s gaze narrowed sharply. “You have seen Oliver?”
Sabrina stared, surprised to think her beautiful younger cousin might be jealous of her. She had never provided Frances the least competition, but blended in harmlessly with the rest of the wallflowers. Even with Oliver, who had professed to love her, there’d been no contest once he’d spied Frances. The girl had the petite delicacy of a porcelain doll, with an animated charm that was warm and real—a charm that seemed to be entirely missing tonight.
“We met by chance on the street,” Sabrina replied lightly, “when my husband was escorting me to the shops. Oliver told me the happy news then. You are pleased by the coming child, are you not?”
“Yes…I suppose so.”
“I did not think to see you here tonight if you are feeling poorly.”
“We are not so high in society that we can refuse an invitation by the Duke of Kintail. I cannot attach the title of milady to my name. I am only plain Mistress Irvine.”
Sabrina raised her eyebrows in astonishment. She had never seen Frances in such a mood. Usually her cousin displayed the sweetest of dispositions, even if she was perhaps a trifle spoiled. But it seemed Frances somehow blamed her for wedding a Highland laird. Perhaps she’d forgotten the true course of events; if Frances had not vanquished Oliver with a smile, Sabrina would have wed him herself.
“But then,” Sabrina murmured consolingly, “you were fortunate enough to marry for love.”
To her astonishment, Frances’s lower lip trembled. “Oh, Brina, I do not mean to act the witch. It is just that I am so unhappy.” Her pretty features turned bleak. “There…are other women.”
“Surely you are mistaken.”
“No. Oliver has a…a mistress. I’ve seen her. She is uncommonly beautiful. And he spends a fortune on gifts for her.” When Sabrina’s expression remained slightly doubtful, Frances said insistently, “How else do you explain how Oliver has managed to run through so much of my dowry in so short a time?”
“His wardrobe is a bit more spectacular than I recall.”
“He buys the latest fashions in order to impress that woman. At least she dares not show her face in polite company. She is an actress, Brina.” Her lower lip quivering, she raised a hand to her brow.
“Frances?” Sabrina asked, concerned.
“No, I will be better presently.” Fumbling in the pocket of her skirt, Frances withdrew a vile of sal volatile and breathed deeply, wincing at the pungent odor.
“I do not know how you manage to remain so unaffected, Brina. But then I imagine you are accustomed to such betrayal, wed as you are to a celebrated libertine. How I envy your fortitude. How do you bear it?”
“Bear what?”
“Your husband’s infidelities.”
She was fortunately spared a reply when a gentleman approached. Frances stiffened, while Sabrina found it difficult not to stare.
She scarcely recognized Oliver. Resplendent in a coat of yellow satin, he sported a full white wig, gold-buttoned cuffs, and high-heeled, gold-buckled shoes. The gentle suitor she’d known had been scholarly, serious, personally ambitious. This man was a stranger to her.
He bowed deeply before them, though he appeared to ignore his wife. “I am enraptured to greet the bonniest ladies at the ball.”
His gaze drifted down Sabrina’s bosom, making her overly aware of her exposed flesh. Frances apparently noticed his wandering eyes as well, for she sent her husband a withering look that was at once murderous and verging on tears.
When she stalked away without a word, Oliver leaned close to whisper gravely in Sabrina’s ear. “I must speak to you in private. Will you join me in the library in a few moments’ time? ’Tis along the main corridor to the right.”
He gave her no time to reply, but bowed again and turned away.
Puzzled, Sabrina waited for a moment and then followed.
She found the library with little difficulty, but entered warily when she saw that only a single lamp had been lit. Oliver startled a gasp f
rom her when he appeared from the shadows.