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  “That is understandable. You are an artist.”

  Devin let out a derisive snort. “Hardly that. No, I fear that I am just a gentleman of leisure, and I am not terribly good at anything except a number of ‘gentlemanly’ pursuits. Riding, hunting, card playing.”

  “Oh, there are places where you might find those things would stand you in good stead,” Miranda remarked. “So, my lord Ravenscar, do you wish to rescind your offer? Or will you accept this marriage ‘contract’?”

  He thought with amusement of what Leona would think once she found out what her ‘mouse of an heiress’ was really like.

  “No domination by either of us, eh?” he said thoughtfully.

  “That is correct.”

  “I think I would be agreeable to that.” It was, he told himself, the only sensible thing to do. His reluctance stemmed from nothing but a pride that was, frankly, too large for his present circumstances. He had to marry, and irritating as Miss Upshaw was, well, as Richard had pointed out, at least life with her would not be dull. And getting an heir with her would be anything but an onerous duty.

  “Good. I would hate to have to make another search for a suitable spouse,” Miranda said.

  “That won’t be necessary,” Devin replied curtly, a little surprised to find how much the idea of her marrying someone else displeased him. “My offer still stands. Will you marry me, Miss Upshaw?”

  “Yes, my lord, I will,” Miranda replied promptly, then went on, “I think we should do it quickly, don’t you? There is little point in waiting. We need to start clearing up the debts and restoring the estate. I think a short engagement is preferable.”

  “That’s fine.” He felt a trifle dazed by her brisk, businesslike manner. It seemed that an engagement should entail something more—some celebration, a kiss, at least….

  He reached for her, but Miranda neatly turned and walked away, saying, “Now, as to the details…I think a wedding away from London, don’t you? There will doubtless be enough gossip as it is, without giving them weeks and weeks to build it up.”

  Devin resumed his position at the desk and watched her thoughtfully. Had she seen the kiss coming and skillfully eluded it, or had she not realized what he was about to do? “You know, Miss Upshaw,” he began, “one has to wonder. This is all very well for me. The advantages of marrying you are clear. But why do you wish to marry me? Given the fact, after all, that you find me arrogant and—what was the other quality? Unlikeable?”

  “It is more the idea of an arranged marriage that appeals,” Miranda explained calmly, sitting down in a chair facing him. “At first I did not like the idea, as you know. But then, as I began to think about it, I could see the wisdom of marrying not for love or passion, but for practical reasons. As I mentioned the other night, I would like to restore your estate. The house and the lands. I enjoy dealing in real estate. There’s nothing quite as much fun as taking a piece of land and making it turn a profit.”

  “Indeed?” He looked doubtful.

  Miranda chuckled. “It appeals to me. I would like to restore Darkwater to its former beauty. And I would like to see what can be done to turn your estate around, modernize it, whatever it takes to make it begin to produce again.”

  “Odd reasons to marry. One would suppose you could simply buy an old house and restore it.”

  “Ah, but then it would not be one’s own. I would have no real, personal connection to it. That makes it much more special. Besides, there is the allure of your social standing. My stepmother would greatly enjoy seeing Veronica have her debut here in London. It would be nice to be able to do that for her. Veronica will enjoy that kind of thing.”

  “So you are marrying in order to bring out your sister in a few years, thereby making your stepmother happy, and to restore Darkwater.”

  “Partly. But as I told you before, those things were not enough to make me willing to marry you. But as I thought about it, I realized how freeing the whole arrangement is.”

  “Freeing?” He looked puzzled.

  “Yes. You see, I have been plagued by fortune hunters, both here and at home. I never know whether a man truly likes me or just wants to get his hands on my money. With an arranged marriage, there is no uncertainty. I know you do not care for me—indeed, I think we have established that you find me odd and off-putting. That makes it much easier than hearing honeysweet words and wondering constantly if they are false. I much prefer plain dealing.”

  “You prefer to be without love?”

  “I prefer to know where I stand. I despise lies. I hate people trying to fool me, deceive me. An honest emotion is always better than deception, I think, even if the emotion itself is not the most pleasant. At least one knows how to deal with it, how to act. And one doesn’t feel a fool afterward when one learns the truth. Besides, I have no intention of being without love. It is simply that in such circumstances, love, if one finds it, comes outside of marriage.”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “I said that love is separate from marriage when the marriage is an arranged one, and that is really much easier, don’t you think? Once I thought about it, I saw that the European way is much more practical. You and I marry for our own practical reasons, and then, in our daily lives, we simply go our separate ways. You will do what you want, live as you want, and so shall I. Then you have none of the jealousy and petty feelings that can infect a marriage made for love. You will have your lovers, I will have mine. You will—”

  “What!” Devin bounded up from his easy, relaxed pose, his face drawn into a scowl. “What do you mean, you will have lovers?”

  “Why, simply what I said. Is something the matter? I was talking about the business sort of marriage that we are entering into. Isn’t that what you had planned? That you would marry me for money but keep a mistress for pleasure? Or love?”

  “Well, yes, I would,” he retorted, then stopped short, realizing how his statement sounded.

  Miranda raised one eyebrow. “You expect different behavior from me than from yourself?”

  “Well, yes,” he admitted, looking a little uncomfortable. “It’s one thing for a man, but for a woman—”

  “Yes?”

  “Well, women just don’t go around having affairs outside of their marriages.”

  “They do not? But I had heard that Lady Vesey was married.”

  “Leona? Leona has nothing to do with this.”

  “But I understood that she was your mistress.”

  “What?” He looked stunned. “How do you—Where did you hear that?”

  “From Lady Westhampton.”

  “Rachel?” He gaped at her. “My sister? What possessed her to tell you—”

  “Oh, she didn’t volunteer the information. I asked. When I saw you together with Lady Vesey, I suspected that was the case, so I asked your sister. She could scarcely deny it.”

  “I don’t see why not!” Devin retorted. “Rachel should know how to act in polite circles.”

  Miranda’s brows rose again. “Meaning that I do not?”

  “No, not if you go about asking people such questions. Particularly of a chap’s own sister. My Lord, you shouldn’t be talking about such things with me, let alone Rachel.”

  “Why not?”

  “It simply isn’t done.”

  “Oh, pooh.” Miranda waved away his objection. “What nonsense. I thought we were to be open and honest with each other. Partners in a business, so to speak. Surely we are above pretending that what everyone knows to be true is not.”

  “That is not the point,” Devin growled.

  “Then what is the point?” Miranda asked calmly.

  “You cannot go about having affairs! I will not have the Aincourt name besmirched,” Devin snapped. “Lady Ravenscar does not engage in affairs. My wife’s name will not be bandied about by every gossip in London.”

  “I meant that I would be discreet, of course,” Miranda assured him. “I would not do anything that might hurt the Aincourt name, which you
have guarded so carefully these many years.”

  “All right, sneer if you like. I admit that I have not been a model of propriety. I have hurt my family’s name and reputation. But it is different!”

  “Because it’s you?”

  “Because I am a man,” he said through clenched teeth. “It is an entirely different matter for a woman.”

  “Why?”

  “Why? How can you even ask? Everyone knows.”

  “Knows what?”

  “That women are—that they—”

  “Are more moral than men? Have a higher standard?”

  He pressed his lips together for a moment, frustrated, then finally burst out, “No one cares if a man has a by-blow or two, but a woman’s unfaithfulness jeopardizes the succession.”

  “The succession?” Miranda giggled. “You sound as if you are talking about the kingdom.”

  “You know what I mean. One could never be certain if an heir were truly an heir if—”

  “I told you I would be perfectly discreet. I would be careful, as well. You would not have to worry.”

  “I would worry a great deal if I had to be calling men out to save your honor!”

  “What nonsense. There would be no reason to call anyone out. I cannot imagine why you are making a fuss about it. I mean, it isn’t as if you cared about me.”

  “I certainly do not.”

  “Then why should it matter what I do? I know you are too fair a man to expect me to live differently than you or Lady Vesey.”

  “Would you stop throwing her name into this?”

  Miranda shrugged and plowed ahead. “And surely you do not expect us to remain celibate after we marry.”

  “Celibate! God, no. Where did you get that idea?”

  “Well, I mean, in a marriage such as ours, where there is no conjugal love—no real liking, actually, when you come right down to it—if we did not seek pleasure elsewhere, then we would have to be celibate. I know you don’t intend that.”

  “Of course I don’t intend that. I haven’t intended anything yet. I have no earthly idea how you have come up with any of what you are saying.” Devin shoved his fingers back through his hair, disarranging it even further, and looked at her wildly.

  “No doubt you need some time to think about it,” Miranda told him kindly.

  “It will take more than time. Are you saying that you and I are not—that we will not—”

  “Share a marital bed?” Miranda offered. “That’s right. That is part of the appeal of this sort of marriage. We do not have to consummate it. If you had to pretend to love me and woo me, then you would have to follow through, and that must be a very difficult thing when one does not love a person, I would think. But this way, when you go into it honestly, without all the trappings and lies, when it is merely a business arrangement, pure and simple, neither of us will have to pretend that we want to consummate the marriage. I am sure the thought of that appeals as little to you as it does to me.”

  He looked at her, dazed, and finally murmured, “Yes, of course.”

  “There you are. That is one of the reasons why I realized what an excellent arrangement this is. We will have separate beds, separate lives.”

  “But—but what about heirs?” Devin brightened. “After all, that is one of my primary duties as the Earl of Ravenscar, making sure that the title has an heir.”

  “Well, in time, I suppose, if that is so important, then we will have to deal with it,” Miranda said, considering the idea. “We will make some sort of arrangement. But that is a long way away. There is no need to worry about it now.”

  “Of course not.” Devin walked around his desk and sank down in the chair behind it. He felt rather as though he had just been through a whirlwind. No, it was more the feeling that he had been swindled by some mountebank, but so skillfully that he could not even put his finger on exactly when and how it had occurred.

  “Good, then it’s all settled,” Miranda said briskly, rising to her feet. “My father will be delighted, as will your mother, I am sure. We shall set the proceedings into motion. You will find them quite painless and quick. Now perhaps you ought to lie down with a rag soaked in lavender on your forehead. You look a trifle under the weather.”

  Miranda swept out of the room, leaving Devin behind her, looking faintly stunned. She walked out of the house and down the steps to her waiting carriage, and only after she had climbed up into it and settled down in the plush seat did she allow a grin to break across her face.

  She had told a tremendous pack of lies back there, she thought, but the idea seemed to cause her little remorse. Last night, as she had lain awake, thinking, she had come to an important conclusion: against all reason and logic, Devin Aincourt was the man she wanted. Once she was certain of that, everything else had fallen naturally into place. Miranda was not one to distrust her instincts. She would marry him, and she had no intention of sharing him with Lady Vesey or anyone else. She knew that he wanted her; she had felt it in his kisses, his embrace. She was also sure that he would marry her. Beyond that, it would be up to her to bring him to love her.

  It was to that end that she had spent the rest of the night planning her campaign. So far, everything had gone exactly according to plan. She had left Devin confused, vaguely jealous and definitely frustrated. It was, she thought, a good beginning. The next step would be whisking him off to Darkwater for the wedding, away from London and the clutches of Lady Vesey. She knew she could rely on her father and the eager Lady Ravenscar to make that happen as soon as possible.

  Reaching into her pocket, she brought out the crumpled piece of paper that Devin had been at such pains to hide under the desk when she walked in. She had been curious about it the entire time they had been talking. Now she took it out and opened it, carefully smoothing out the wrinkled page. It was, she saw, a drawing of her face, only half-done, but easily recognizable.

  She looked at it for a long moment. Devin had fallen asleep at his desk last night because he had been trying to draw her face. She remembered the pile of crumpled papers he had kicked under the desk. The waste bin had been full of them, as well. She smiled with satisfaction and leaned her head back against the cushion. It was all going even better than planned.

  10

  Miranda’s father was predictably pleased with her announcement that she had decided to marry the Earl of Ravenscar. Veronica, too, found the news tremendously exciting. Miranda’s stepmother, however, looked less pleased. Though Elizabeth wished Miranda every happiness, as was polite, her face was marred by a small frown, and she took Miranda’s hand, looking into her eyes and asking earnestly, “Are you sure that this is what you wish to do? Joseph can find another house, another aristocrat, I’m sure.”

  “No. I have decided that this is the aristocrat I want,” Miranda replied, with a small, secret smile. “Don’t worry about me, Elizabeth. It is very sweet of you to be concerned for my happiness, but, truly, I am quite certain that this is what I want to do. Have you ever known me to vacillate?”

  “No,” Elizabeth replied honestly. “You are always quite confident. But sometimes…well, the Earl of Ravenscar is much more…ah…sophisticated than you. He is older, and he has lived a wicked life. I am very afraid that he has deceived you, that you believe him to be other than what he is. I am afraid you will be hurt.”

  Miranda smiled at the older woman fondly and reached out to hug her. “Dear Elizabeth…I think that I have an accurate understanding of what the Earl of Ravenscar is like. I am not going into this marriage blindly. Nor am I doing it for Papa’s sake. This is what I want. Trust me, and don’t worry.”

  Her stepmother acquiesced, still looking faintly troubled.

  As she had known he would, Joseph immediately swung into action, calling on his London attorney and setting up a meeting with Devin’s attorney. Miranda left the business dealings to her father, because she was far too busy with the myriad of tasks attendant upon a wedding, even the small family sort that she had requested. P
rimary among them was getting a wedding dress and trousseau made in the short amount of time before the ceremony. Looking the absolute best she could at her wedding and for the first few days of her marriage was essential. Though she had already bought several new dresses when she came to London—and before that had visited the best couturiers in Paris—she did not have something suitably fashionable and lovely for every moment of the day for two or three weeks.

  Rachel was more than happy to help her with this task, and so were Veronica and her stepmother, who set aside her reservations about the marriage in the fun of choosing beautiful new clothes. There were also dresses to be made for each of them for the event. They spent hours at Madame Ferrier’s, poring over the fashion plates in her books and discussing fabrics and colors. Madame Ferrier grew so excited about the opportunity to create so many dresses for a client who paid promptly and well that on several occasions her French accent slipped into pure Yorkshire. Once the dresses were chosen and Madame Ferrier could set about harrying her seamstresses to have them done on time, they had to find all the necessary accessories—reticules, shawls, ribbons, shoes, hats, parasols…the list seemed endless.

  Two days after Miranda told Devin that she intended to marry him, Lady Ravenscar held a party to announce the engagement. It was, perforce, a small celebration, partly because she hadn’t the time to prepare a large party and partly because she hoped that a gathering of only those closest to her would help to hold down the gossip. It would be impossible to expect the Ton not to talk about the wedding, of course, but she did hope to keep the talking to a minimum.

  Therefore the party was small, elegant and thoroughly boring. Miranda, sandwiched between Lady Ravenscar and her son, who looked even more bored than Miranda felt, politely smiled and greeted the people to whom Lady Ravenscar introduced her and wished she were somewhere else. By the time the guests had stopped arriving and Lady Ravenscar allowed them to break from the receiving line, Miranda had come up with an idea.

  Turning to Devin, she raised her fan to cover her mouth and whispered, “Do you think anyone would miss us if we left?”