Page 23 of So Wild A Heart

“I hope you have enjoyed the party,” Rachel began tentatively.

“Yes, it has been quite entertaining.”

“Really?” Rachel eyed Miranda a trifle uneasily. “I, ah, I hope that nothing happened…I mean, that my brother did not, well, offend you.”

A mischievous grin flashed across Miranda’s face. “No. Actually, I think it was the other way around. I offended Lord Ravenscar.”

Rachel chuckled. “I cannot imagine that, Miss Upshaw. Devin is not easily offended.”

“Is he not? Really? I had a different impression of him. It seems to me that he is quite proud and easily offended.”

“Oh, dear.” Rachel’s heart sank. “He did do something, didn’t he? Or say something?”

“Well, he did say he would rather Darkwater crumble about his ears than marry me. But, you see,” Miranda added honestly, “I had been rather blunt and, well, even a bit mean.”

“Oh.” Rachel looked at her blankly. “You were mean to Devin?”

“Yes. I can be, you see. There are some men in New York who are quite terrified of me.”

Rachel chuckled, then glanced at her uncertainly. “You are joking, aren’t you?”

“Not entirely,” Miranda admitted. “I cannot abide dishonesty. And I have been rather abrupt with one or two men who thought they could get the better of me with trickery. Anyway, I was irritated with Lord Ravenscar because he was being dishonest.”

“Devin? He is usually just the opposite—blunt to the point of being rude.”

“Really? I prefer that, actually. Offensive as he was the other day, when he proposed to me, I think that it was preferable. He was arrogant and rude, but at least he was honest. Tonight he tried to seduce me into marrying him.”

“Oh, dear,” Rachel said in a faint voice.

Miranda glanced at her and saw the color in the other woman’s cheeks. “I’m sorry. Now I have embarrassed you. I almost forgot that he is your brother. You cannot like to hear him spoken of this way.”

“No,” Rachel agreed honestly. “But I have heard many bad things about Dev over the years, unfortunately.”

“Well, I would rather have him tell me the truth—that he hates the idea of marrying me but will do it for the money—than to have him pretend an interest that he does not feel.”

Miranda hesitated, realizing even as she spoke that she herself was not telling the entire truth. She did not really think that Ravenscar had felt none of the desire he expressed. She had felt the heat of his body and the other unmistakable hallmarks of passion in a man. The problem was that he had engineered the situation to try to trick her into saying yes. And, she was honest enough to admit, a great deal of her anger had been because she was afraid that he had not felt desire to the amazing degree that she had felt it. However, she could hardly explain such things to the man’s sister, so she skimmed over the truth.

“So I pointed out some of the drawbacks to marrying him—the rumors and such. It made him angry, I’m afraid.”

“Oh dear,” Rachel said in a small, sad voice. “I had hoped you would not have heard those rumors.”

“I heard most of them tonight. People are very fond of gossip.”

“And Dev makes gossiping easy.” Rachel’s voice was tinged with bitterness. “I love him, Miss Upshaw. I truly do. But sometimes it seems as if he delights in making it difficult to do so. What did you hear?”

Miranda looked at the other woman. Lady Westhampton looked so pale and unhappy that she could not bring herself to repeat the things she had heard. “Nothing that you haven’t heard already, I am sure,” she said gently. On impulse, she reached out and took Rachel’s hand. “Please, don’t be so sad. You cannot make your brother’s life right, you know. Only he can do that.”

“It has not been easy for him,” Rachel said. She looked at Miranda with a plea in her eyes. “Please don’t judge him by what other people say about him. I mean, yes, most of those things they say are probably true, but that’s not what Dev is, really. He is a good man inside. I know it. He was always good to Caroline and me, growing up, and—”

She broke off and sighed. “Sometimes I think that curse is true. The Aincourts are doomed to misery. None of our ancestors were ever very good at hanging on to our money. We have wasted it and lost it on foolish ventures. The family would have been penniless long ago except that we also had a talent for making good marriages—profitable marriages, I should say. The Aincourts have had looks—and often charm. We attracted wealthy spouses, but the marriages have rarely been happy.”

They had been strolling along the terrace as they talked, and Miranda quietly steered Rachel away from the other people and the ballroom.

“My sister and I married as we were supposed to,” Rachel went on. “Caroline seemed lucky. Her husband was a spectacular catch, a duke, no less, and he loved her very much. They were happy. They had a daughter. Then, four years ago, she and her daughter died in a carriage accident. Richard tried to save them, but he could not.”

“I’m so sorry.” They had rounded a corner, out of sight of the rest of the party, and Miranda led Rachel to a stone bench and sat down.

“Thank you.” Rachel offered her a wan smile. “I was the other dutiful daughter. I married the man my father picked out. He is a good man, a kind man. But—” she sighed, then went on “—but I did not love him. I loved another. I thought Michael knew that, accepted it, that he expected a marriage that was a business relationship and nothing more. I found out later that he did not. When he found out that I loved another, he thought I had deceived him purposefully. He—well, we live apart. He gives me everything I need—he is a generous man. He and Richard support my mother, too. But none of us are happy.”