am sure that wasn’t the reason. She likes you. Didn’t you tell me that you liked her?”
“Yes. But not enough to marry her odious brother.”
“Now, Miranda, my love, was he really that bad?” Joseph had asked in a wheedling tone.
“He was the rudest, most arrogant man I have ever had the misfortune to talk to. Why, he barely even glanced at me the whole time he was talking. It was quite clear that he considered me far beneath him and was offering only because he was desperate. If I had to live with a man like that, one or the other of us would be dead within a month, I am sure.”
“Perhaps he was nervous,” Joseph suggested. “Asking for a woman’s hand will do that to a man.”
“I have never met a man less nervous.”
Miranda had not told her father about the way Lord Ravenscar had jerked her to him and kissed her forcefully. She was not exactly sure why. She knew that such a revelation would end her father’s questions and pleadings immediately. However, she had found herself reluctant to tell him about it. It was embarrassing; she could scarcely even think about the incident without blushing. Also, she was not sure exactly how her father would react. He was not a man with an excessive temper, but an insult like that to his daughter was something that could make him fly into a rage, and if he did, she was fairly sure he might do something rash like march over to the Earl’s house and lay into him with his fists. While that was something that the man richly deserved, she suspected, having seen the Earl in action the other night, that her father would be the one who came out the worse for the fisticuffs, and she certainly did not want him to get hurt.
But Miranda knew that there was something more than these things that had kept her from revealing Ravenscar’s scandalous behavior. She was not sure of the reason; she knew only that she wanted to keep the information to herself. His kiss had left her confused and uncertain, a condition to which she was not accustomed, and she was reluctant to let anyone see that.
She thoroughly disliked the man, just as she had told her father, and she felt certain that even a few minutes in his company would make her furious again. What did she not reveal, however, was that she could not stop thinking about his kiss, and there was something inside her that wanted with equal intensity to experience it again. She did not want to tell Joseph, of course, but she knew that deep down she was intrigued by the thought of meeting Ravenscar once more.
Lord Ravenscar would find no dowdy girl with spectacles tonight, she thought, and smiled to herself, taking a last look in the mirror before turning away to pull on her long evening gloves. The whole evening would be worth it just to see his expression.
Joseph popped into the room again, evening gloves in one hand and his gold watch in the other. “Time to go,” he said, then stopped, looking at his daughter. “Well! I’ll be having to fight them off tonight, I can see that.”
Miranda chuckled. “Thank you, Papa.”
“Don’t you have anything you can put in that neckline to cover you up some?” he went on, frowning. “Ruffles or lace or some such?”
“It is an evening gown, Papa. That’s the way it’s supposed to look.”
“Yes, dear,” Elizabeth agreed placidly from her position on the couch. “It is the very height of fashion.”
“I think it’s perfectly grand,” Veronica stuck in, sighing. “I wish I could go with you. To think of meeting all those people—the wealthiest and toniest of English society.”
“The phoniest and silliest is more like it,” Miranda replied and ran a loving hand down the girl’s brown hair. “Just wait, you shall get your chance.”
“Yes, your sister will see to your coming out,” Joseph promised. “Once we’ve got her all settled.”
“Papa…”
“You know, Joseph, you should not push her,” Elizabeth put in softly. “She does not need to marry Lord Ravenscar. Indeed, you know that I think she should not.”
“I know, Elizabeth,” Miranda told her stepmother with a smile. “Believe me, I have no intention of agreeing to become Lady Ravenscar.”
“I think that is a wonderfully romantic name,” Veronica said, heaving another sigh of admiration. “Ravenscar. It sounds so—so wild and exotic.”
“Mmm.” Miranda picked up her fan from the table nearby. “Far too wild and exotic for a plain thing like me, I’m sure. All right, Papa, I’m ready.”
“Finally.” He went to his wife and bent to kiss her cheek. “I wish you would go with us, Elizabeth. It seems a shame that you’re missing all these parties.”
“It doesn’t matter. I’m really not feeling up to it tonight. I want to go to the opera in a few days more.”
“I am sure it will be much more enjoyable—and far less tiring,” Miranda agreed, also going to her stepmother and kissing her on the cheek.
Her father offered her his arm, she took it, and they proceeded out the door and down the stairs to where the carriage awaited them outside. Her father was uncharacteristically silent on the drive over to Westhampton House, staring thoughtfully out the window.
Finally he said, “You know, I would not want you to do anything that would make you unhappy.”
“I know that, Papa.” Miranda reached over and patted his knee.
“Perhaps Elizabeth is right—I am just thinking of myself and not you.”
“Well, I am quite capable of thinking of myself, and, believe me, you will not be able to bully me into doing something I don’t want to.” She smiled. “Surely you don’t think that I have turned weak and biddable the last few days?”
A grin flashed across his face as he swiveled his head to look at her. “No, that I don’t.”
“Then there’s nothing to worry about. I am just as bullheaded as you, so you may argue with me to your heart’s content and you won’t budge me past what I wish to do. Now, Veronica is a different matter.”
“Veronica!” Her father looked shocked. “Why, I would never try to bully Veronica into anything. She’s, well, she might do it just to please me and then be miserably unhappy.”
“You see? You know with me you don’t have that worry.”
“You’re right.” He took her hand with a smile. “It is a comfort to me to know that you never pay the least heed to me.”
Miranda chuckled and gave his hand a squeeze.
Westhampton House, when they reached it, was packed with people. Miranda had hung back on purpose, dithering over her clothing as she never did, because she wanted to make a grand entrance. It was disappointing, therefore, when she swept down the grand staircase on her father’s arm and realized that Ravenscar was not standing at the bottom of it to watch her descent. The man had gotten the better of her, she thought disgustedly, as her eyes roamed quickly and discreetly around the great ballroom. She did not see him anywhere. Could it be that this party was all just a result of his sister’s wishful thinking and he did not plan to try to press his suit with her
