of the scene brought him a great feeling of satisfaction. He was, he thought, a wicked man at heart, just as Leona had said last night. Breaking the American chit’s heart had a great deal more appeal for him than marrying her.
He changed the direction of his path, heading now for his sister’s town house, a stately white affair that took up most of a block in Mayfair. The footman knew him and merely bowed as Devin walked past him and took the stairs to his sister’s sitting room upstairs. He was relieved to find her alone rather than receiving callers, frowning over a framed circle of needlework.
She looked up at the sound of his footsteps, and a smile broke across her face. “Dev!” She rose quickly to her feet and started toward him, holding out both her hands. “I am so happy to see you—although I should scold you for what you did last night, or, I should say, didn’t do. It was terribly embarrassing. I felt a fool trying to tell Miss Upshaw that you were really a very nice man.”
“No need to lie about me, Rachel,” Devin said with a smile, greeting his sister with a kiss on the cheek. “You know I am anything but a nice man.”
“Well, everyone else in Town will tell her that. I was hoping to present a counterargument. But it was a little difficult when you did not even have the courtesy to show up.”
“Well, I made up for it today. I went to her house and asked her father for her hand.”
“Dev!” Rachel’s green eyes, a warmer, feminine version of her brother’s, lit with delight. “You never did! Really? Oh, I am so happy. I liked Miss Upshaw on sight. I think she will make you a wonderful wife. I know this is the right thing—you will be so happy.”
“Not if my happiness depends on marrying her. She turned me down.”
“Turned you down?”
Devin chuckled. “Well, it soothes my wounded feelings somewhat to see you look so shocked at the notion. I am sure our esteemed mother will tell me that it serves me right.”
“Well, it probably does,” Rachel admitted. “But, oh, this is so disappointing. I had really hoped…”
“Don’t give up hope, my love. I have a plan.”
“A plan?” The look Rachel turned on him was tinged with suspicion. “What do you mean? A plan for what?”
“For turning the tables on our Miss Moneybags,” Devin replied lightly. “I intend to woo the chit. Get her to take back her refusal.”
Rachel frowned. “But why? I thought you didn’t want to marry her anyway? I would have thought you would be glad she turned you down.”
“Glad to have an American nobody tell me I was not good enough for her?” Devin asked coolly. “I think not, dear sister. I am happy not to shackle myself to her, but that doesn’t mean I was pleased to be rejected.”
Rachel’s frown deepened. “Devin…”
“What?” He looked at her with great innocence. “I thought you would be happy for me to make a push to fix her interest.”
“I would be if I thought you were serious. But it sounds as if it is a game for you, and it seems a cruel game.”
“Don’t worry about the American. Just think of all that lovely money waiting for us to snatch it up.”
“Devin! You make us sound so…”
“So what? Mercenary? Well, aren’t we? Haven’t we always been aimed in the direction of money? Was it not the prime objective of your marriage? And Caroline’s? Haven’t I always been the slackard who would not do his family duty of wedding an heiress? The Aincourt coffers, after all, are a bottomless pit.”
“I hate it when you talk that way,” Rachel said, her face saddening. “Caroline and Richard loved each other. He has been heartbroken ever since her death, and you know it.”
“I know.” His face softened a trifle. “And I am a wretch to remind you of your own sacrifice. Especially when I have always been too selfish to match it.”
“I don’t want you to sacrifice your life, Dev. I want your happiness. That is all that I care about.”
“Well, it will make me happy to win over your Miss Upshaw. And that is why I want you to have a party and invite her to it.”
“Have a party?”
“Yes. A party which I shall attend—and where I will endeavor to repair the damage I have done to Miss Upshaw’s opinion of me.”
Rachel gave her brother a long, considering look. The hard light in his eyes frightened her a little, and she wondered if she would be doing the American girl a serious disservice by helping Devin try to charm her into accepting him. But then she thought about Miss Upshaw and their conversation of the night before, and it occurred to her that Miranda Upshaw was capable of holding her own with anyone, including Devin.
“All right,” she said finally. “I shall throw a ball for Miss Upshaw. She can scarcely refuse to attend a party designed to introduce her to the Ton.”
“Thank you, dear sister.” Devin threw her a playful bow. “I am eternally in your debt.”
“I shall hold you to that promise,” Rachel retorted in the same vein, then added, more thoughtfully, “It will be interesting to see which one of you wins out.” Perhaps, with any luck, they both would.
5
Miranda turned first this way, then that, looking at her reflection in the mirror. Behind her sat her stepsister and stepmother, observing her. Her father paced impatiently up and down the hallway, sticking his head in from time to time to see how things were progressing.
“You’re beautiful,” Veronica said, gazing up at her with stars in her eyes.
“She’s right,” Elizabeth agreed. “That seafoam green sets off your hair perfectly. I am so glad we decided to get it.”
“I am, too,” Miranda admitted. The dress was lovely. Made of layer upon layer of the palest green gauze, scalloped around the hem, it did indeed look as if she were rising from a layer of sea-foam. Tied by a wide silver ribbon beneath the bust, it accentuated the firm thrust of her breasts, and the low, round neckline showed off their creamy tops to advantage. Around her shoulders she wore a wrap of silver, so thin as to be almost nonexistent. Her chestnut hair was swept up and artfully arranged in a cascade of falling curls, through which a matching silver ribbon was twined. She did, she thought with a satisfied smile, look her best. Lord Ravenscar would not find her plain or dowdy tonight.
That, she knew, was the main reason why she had decided to attend Lady Westhampton’s ball tonight. When she had first received the invitation, she had told her father flatly that she would not go.
“It is only a ploy to force me to meet Lord Ravenscar again, and nothing could impel me to do that,” she had said, ignoring Joseph’s pleading expression.
“Now, we don’t know that.”
“Why else would Lady Westhampton have invited us? Obviously she loves her brother dearly, despite the fact that the man is a pig. She must hope that
