"Boy has no manners," Ravenscar's uncle interjected with a jovial laugh. "You must forgive him, Miss Upshaw."
"Must I?" Miranda replied lightly, and though she spoke to his uncle, her gaze was on Ravenscar. His eyes remained equally fixed on her.
"I am sure Miss Upshaw is not surprised, Uncle," Ravenscar drawled in his most irritatingly upper-crust voice. "She is well aware of what a barbarian I am."
Miranda smiled at him with false sweetness, and he swung abruptly away. "I must take my leave now. Mr. Upshaw, Mrs. Upshaw, pleased to meet you. Baldwin. Miss Upshaw." He pronounced her name with great precision, turning back toward her and adding a bow so courtly it was a sarcastic statement on its own.
"My lord. So pleasant to see you, as always." Miranda returned his gesture with an equally grand curtsey.
Devin's jaw clenched so hard that she could see the muscle in it jump. Then he turned on his heel and strode out of the room, ignoring the protesting look shot him by his sister.
Rachel turned and went to Miranda, saying in a low voice, "I am so sorry. I don't know what's the matter with Devin tonight. He has been excessively sour from the moment he came into Mother's box this evening. He was the one who suggested he escort me to your box. I didn't even think about it, because he was looking so glum and glowery. Then he comes here and acts perfectly rudely."
"Don't worry, it doesn't bother me," Miranda responded with absolute candor.
The truth was, the exchange with Ravenscar had left her feeling rather invigorated, and Rachel's revelation that it was he who had wanted to come visit their box was even more encouraging. There had been something in his eye when he turned to face Hiram that in anyone else Miranda would have identified as jealousy, and it made her smile inside to think that perhaps Ravenscar had wanted to come to their box to discover exactly who the man was who was sitting beside her.
"I was wanting to talk to you, Lady Westhampton," she said, linking her arm through Rachel's.
"Rachel."
"All right, Rachel. Why don't we take a stroll out in the gallery?"
"Of course."
Rachel went with her readily, her curiosity obviously aroused. Once out in the grand hallway, Miranda glanced around and led Rachel toward the least populated area she could find, lowering her voice and bringing her head close to Rachel's.
"Now," Miranda said, "tell me about the woman who came to the opera with Ravenscar."
Chapter 7
The face Rachel turned to Miranda was almost comical in its dismay. "Who?"
"The woman with whom your brother came, the blond beauty."
"Oh. Oh, well, she's no one really. Lady Vesey is her name."
"Is she Ravenscar's mistress?"
Rachel drew in her breath in a gasp. "Miranda!"
"Well?" Miranda fixed the other woman with a pleasant but determined gaze. "You don't know me well, so I will tell you that I will eventually worm out of you everything you know about her. So you might as well go ahead and tell me all about her now."
Rachel looked at her uneasily. "I really—you shouldn't—"
“If you think that telling me about her will ruin the possibility of my marrying your brother, let me assure you that it will make absolutely no difference. Well, no, that is not true. You see, I believe in knowing everything I possibly can about a venture before I enter into it, whether it is buying a piece of real estate or having a dress made—or getting married. I want to know everything—good, bad and all the variations in between. Without all the details, I cannot make an informed decision. So I think that it is highly unlikely that I could marry your brother until I have discovered precisely what his relationship to Lady Vesey is."
Rachel let out a groan.
"I promise you, I am not naive," Miranda went on. “I know that people here like to think of Americans as unsophisticated, and perhaps in some things we are. But when it comes to matters of scandal, I will wager that we are as up-to-date as Europeans. I know that men frequently have mistresses. I would not expect a man, especially one such as your brother, not to have had, well, shall we say, affairs of the heart? But I have to know what I'm dealing with. What is Lady Vesey to him? Does he love her? It is scarcely fair to me, you must admit, to expect me to go into something like marriage blindfolded."
Her companion cast her an agonized look. "No, you are right. It is terribly unfair of me to not want you to know. But I am afraid—oh, please, do not hold it against Dev. He was very young when he met her, and—and the woman is a witch! A harpy! She sank her claws into him, and she's never let go."
Rachel stopped and sighed, then began again, her voice calmer. “Her name is Leona, and she has been considered one of the greatest beauties of the
Ton
since she came to London—many, many years ago," she added cattily. Rachel smiled self-deprecatingly. "Well, I don't know how old she is, exactly, but I am sure she is several years older than Dev. She was already an established beauty and Lord Vesey's wife before Dev came to London. When he came here, he associated with artists and other young men of whom my father disapproved, young men whose lifestyle was very free and easy. He did gamble and drink and womanize, I'm sure. He had done the same sort of things even at home, and every time it brought about a major battle with Father. I almost think that is why Dev did them—to antagonize our father. I think I told you that in London he became even wilder, but, still, I think he was not much worse than most young men."
"They are apt to sow their wild oats," Miranda said encouragingly.
"Yes, you know how it is," Rachel said, grateful for her understanding. "He had actually met Leona at home at Darkwater. Her husband's estate is not far from ours, and he saw her there. Of course, nothing would have come of it, because Leona rarely visits Vesey Park. But then Devin came to London. And he saw Leona again. Well, you know what she looks like. You can imagine how pretty she was then, in her youth. Dev fell in love with her—hopelessly, helplessly in love. A better woman would have discouraged him. A kinder one would have sent him on his way after a brief affair. But Leona is neither good nor kind. She is wicked, and she led Dev into all the same wicked pursuits she followed."
"Was it over Leona that your father disowned him?"
"No. At least, I don't think so. Father heard about his pursuing Leona and he disliked it intensely, but I—I think it was something else. I don't think he was, well, really...involved with Leona yet when he and Father had that great fight. I was still young at the time, only fourteen, and neither Father nor Mother would speak to us about it. I only know that it was something terribly scandalous. But after that scandal, whatever it was, Dev became completely enmeshed in Leona's group. I don't even know everything they have done. People have tried to protect me, you see." She offered Miranda a small smile. "I confess that I have not really wanted to know. I am not as brave as you."
"I would probably feel the same as you if it were my brother we were talking about," Miranda lied kindly. She knew that the truth was that if it had been her brother in a wicked woman's clutches and fast sinking into sin, she would not only have found out everything she could about it but would also have set forth to try to stop it. But then, she also knew that she would not have had to do anything about it, because her father would have seen to it already; he would have pulled his son out of the muck, not disowned him, as Devin's father had.
"I think he loves her," Rachel admitted in a soft, sad voice. "At least, he has remained faithful to her all these years—in his own way. People dismiss the good things about him, but he is a very loyal person. He would do anything for me or someone else he loved, and I know he feels the pull of his duty. I dunk sometimes that he hates himself for the life he has led. There are people so cruel that they blame him for our father's death—and it was not his fault! He had nothing to do with it. Father had not even spoken to him for years. But the word got out that Father would not see him even on his deathbed, and the rumors grew. But Dev's loyalty to Leona hurts him. She has dragged him down into the muck.
"By the time I married and came to London, he had become quite steeped in sin. Neither he nor Leona were received by any but the most racy sets. I was appalled and hurt when I gave parties and so few of the most proper matrons came—when they were invariably pleasant to me at other parties. But then Michael told me, as gently as he could, that they would not come because Dev attended my parties—sometimes with Leona and her brother Stuart and their friends. I told Michael that I would never exclude my own brother from my parties, and I didn't, but I think Michael must have talked to Dev, because after that Devin stopped coming to my parties. And then the more proper matrons were willing to attend and bring their daughters."
"That must have been very hard for you," Miranda said sympathetically.
Rachel nodded, tears glimmering in her eyes. She dashed them away impatiently. "It was. I would rather have had Dev there than all the others. I was quite angry with Michael for interfering. But he knew, and so did Dev, that if I continued that way, before too much longer I would be considered part of their set and excluded from the rest of the
Ton
just as they were. Dev didn't want that to happen to me, so he stopped coming, except in the afternoons and such. Even the crustiest of old biddies could hardly expect me not to allow my brother to call on me."
She added with the glimmer of a smile, "Of course, it could be that Dev just grew rather bored with my parties. I am sure he was accustomed to far livelier entertainments.''
They turned and started to stroll back toward the Upshaws' box. Rachel was silent for a moment, then said, "Leona is an evil woman. I think she bound Dev to her with her wiles, and that and his strong loyalty have kept him with her. She has encouraged him in the wicked things he's done. I know it was she who influenced him to stop painting. She wouldn't like anything that held his interest and devotion the way painting did. If you had ever met her, you would have seen what sort of person she is—sly and deceptive and—"
"Perhaps I should meet her," Miranda suggested.
"No! Oh, no, don't even think such a thing!" Rachel turned a horrified face toward Miranda. "I am sure she would do something to hurt you. She is bound to be afraid of losing Dev if he marries you—unless her pride has grown so huge that she dismisses the idea of his ever falling in love with someone else."
"Well, I am, after all, only an American heiress," Miranda pointed out with a smile.
Rachel returned a small smile. "I only hope that is the way she feels. Otherwise...if she felt threatened, well, I wouldn't put anything past her."
"Don't worry. I think that Lady Vesey might find me a more formidable opponent than she expects. If I were to marry your brother, that is."
Rachel looked at her with barely restrained eagerness. "Are you? Going to marry Dev, I mean?"
Miranda shrugged. "I have been considering it."
"Oh, Miranda!" Rachel's eyes shone. "Please, please consider it very well. The more I am around you, the more I feel that you would be able to change Dev's life. That is why I urged him to offer for you. I thought if he had a wife, someone he could fall in love with, give his devotion to, then maybe he would be able to break free of Leona's influence. If only he could be taken away from that evil woman, I know that he would be different. Better. At least happier. She doesn't make him happy, I know that She keeps him fretting and uncertain. It is part of her hold on him. But you...if he were married to you, well, he might change. He might realize that happiness could be his. It is what I want so much for him."
"I know."
"I must seem very selfish to you. But I think Dev could make you happy, too. If he had a home and family, he could be a different man."
"The man he is, is rather charming," Miranda confessed.
Rachel chuckled. "Yes, he is, isn't he?"
"But you must not tell him I said so."
"Oh, no," Rachel promised with a smile. "I would not. Trust me. But I am awfully glad you find him so."
******************
Devin returned to Leona's opera box with a scowl on his face. He felt faintly as if the Upshaw girl had been laughing at him, and he did not like the feeling at all. In fact, he had not liked the way he had felt the whole evening. He had not wanted to go to the opera in the first place. He had been in a bad mood for several days, ever since Miranda Upshaw had so casually pointed out that he was for sale, like a horse or a piece of furniture. He had spent the time since then telling himself that he would be damned before he married that American upstart—all the time, that is, when he wasn't thinking about the way she had felt in his arms, her lips yielding under his, and wondering what it would have felt like to have taken the moment further, to have peeled the clothes from her sweetly curved body and explored it inch by delicious inch.
Not, of course, that he liked the baggage or was interested in her—especially not in marrying her. But it would have been satisfying to have bent her to his will, to have caressed and kissed her until she was panting for him, begging him to take her, which he would, of course, do, but not until after he had made her ache for him as she never would for any other man. Every time he thought about that imagined ending to the evening—instead of the reality of his storming out of his sister's house in a black fury—he had grown hot and stiff, and it had been only he who had ended up aching. That fact had only made him dislike the American more. He hated even to say her name. Miranda. What a foolish conceit, as if she were Shakespeare's enchanting heroine, a role in which he could imagine no one less likely than she.