Page 50 of So Wild A Heart

She glanced over at Devin, who looked at her and winked. “All a bit medieval, isn’t it?”

Miranda chuckled. “You read my mind. But I am sure Papa is wallowing in it.”

“Pleasing your father must be very important to you.”

“I love him. But I wouldn’t do absolutely anything to please him.”

“Yet you married to please him.”

“I married to please myself.” The words slipped out before Miranda really thought about them.

“Indeed?” Devin’s eyes darkened. “Then I sincerely hope that I am able to accomplish that.”

“Doing what I want will please me,” Miranda explained. “I realized that life is much easier for a married woman than a single one, even one with as forward-thinking a father as mine. A married woman may go where she likes and with no one accompanying her, and no one thinks a thing of it. There are no silly restrictions about wearing whites and pastels and no bold colors. The world does not recoil in horror if she is alone with a man. And, of course, there are the other reasons I told you at the time we became engaged.”

“I remember.” Devin watched her for a moment. “You are an odd woman. Most women, when they speak about marriage, speak about love.”

“Many women feel the need to make the best of a bad situation,” Miranda replied crisply.

Devin was startled into laughter. “My dear Lady Ravenscar, you are hopelessly blunt.”

“It is very odd to be called that,” Miranda said softly.

“You had better get used to it.”

“I suppose so.”

He studied her thoughtful face. “Having regrets already?”

“No.” She looked up and smiled. “Merely thinking. Wondering what our lives will be like.”

“Unusual, I should think.”

“You are probably right.”

At the house, they moved up to the small ballroom, where a large repast had been laid out in celebration of the wedding. Family and friends were there, including all the people of the area who were considered of sufficient social standing to attend the country wedding of the Earl of Ravenscar. Miranda had been given to understand that a city wedding or one planned for months in advance would have been an entirely different thing. Invitations would have been much sought after, and many of the lesser gentry who would be here today would not have been part of the elite. Miranda had trouble understanding the ins and outs of who was suitable to be invited, the rules a seeming mish-mash of considerations of money, family standing, proximity and social entanglements. Miranda had nodded when Lady Ravenscar tried to explain and told her gratefully that she would leave it all in that lady’s hands.

Miranda and Devin stood in a receiving line just inside the ballroom, along with Devin’s mother, Uncle Rupert, and Rachel and her husband, all lined up in an esoteric order that they all seemed to understand without question. Miranda’s family brought up the end of the line, needless to say. Miranda was sandwiched between Devin and his mother, a fact for which she was grateful, as it eliminated the need for her to carry on much conversation. Devin would introduce her to whoever came up—or, if he could not remember, which was sometimes the case, his mother would smoothly come to the rescue and introduce the visitor to Miranda herself.

Miranda was saying a few words to the doctor when she felt Devin stiffen beside her. At almost the same moment, on the other side of her, Lady Ravenscar’s arm twitched convulsively. Curious, Miranda glanced over at the newest arrivals. An old woman was standing there, smiling at Devin, and behind her stood the woman Miranda had seen with Devin at the opera. Devin’s mistress had come to the wedding reception.

“Miss Vesey,” Devin said in a constrained voice to the old lady, bending down a little to shake her hand. “How nice to see you again. It has been a long time.”

“Yes. I don’t get around much these days. I was so glad that Lady Vesey offered to accompany me. You know Lady Vesey, don’t you, my nephew’s wife?”

“Yes. I know Lady Vesey.” Devin’s voice was cold and controlled, but Miranda could sense the intense emotion radiating from his body. She wished she knew exactly what he was feeling.

She had no doubt what his mother was feeling. Lady Ravenscar was as taut as a violin string, and Miranda suspected that she would have liked to fly across the few feet separating them and slap Leona.

Leona, on the other hand, looked like the cat who had got into the cream. She was dressed beautifully, in a conservative silk dress of a muted green, nothing like the low-cut gown she had worn to the opera. However, it fit her so well and did such wonderful things for her eyes and hair that it drew one’s attention almost as much as the evening gown had. She was stunning—hair, eyes, skin—and her beauty was just as dazzling close up as it had been at a distance. Miranda could not help but feel a frisson of uncertainty as she gazed at the other woman’s perfectly modeled face. How could she ever hope to compete with this woman for Devin’s affections?

“Ravenscar and I are old friends,” Leona said now, looking up into Devin’s face with laughing eyes. “Aren’t we, my lord? I hope you won’t mind my inviting myself along to the celebration. Vesey’s aunt needed an escort, otherwise I would never have imposed.”

“Of course not,” Devin’s mother said icily. “A lady would never do such a thing. Hello, Lady Vesey.”

Leona’s gaze slid over to Lady Ravenscar, and in doing so fell on Miranda. Her eyes widened a trifle, and Miranda thought she saw the woman stiffen before she smiled at her. It gave Miranda a wicked spurt of pleasure to think that the sight of her had discomfited the woman. Obviously Lady Vesey had expected a different sort of woman.

“Allow me to introduce you to Devin’s wife,” Lady Ravenscar went on. “Miranda, this is Lady Vesey. Her husband’s estate lies not too far away from here. We see very little of them, however.” She paused before adding, “They are almost always in London.”