him try anything with my Miranda. Besides, if he’s marrying her, you can scarcely worry about him ruining her reputation.”
“I suspect she is worried more about his faithlessness, Papa,” Miranda pointed out wryly.
“Faithless? To you?” Joseph’s brows rushed together, and he said again, “I’d like to see him try! Trust me, my dear, I’ll make sure he knows what’s expected of him.”
“Nothing is expected of him,” Miranda stuck in pointedly. “I’m not marrying him.”
“Of course, dear, not unless you want to,” Joseph replied easily. He turned to Elizabeth. “Besides, Lizzie, that was years ago. He was just a boy then. Lots of men are wild in their salad years, but they straighten out as they get older.”
“Yes, I know.” Elizabeth agreed, but her forehead remained creased with worry.
“Besides, we would make sure it was all wrapped up right and tight before she married him. You know we would not allow a wastrel to endanger Miranda’s fortune.”
“It wasn’t her fortune I was thinking of,” Elizabeth retorted with an unusual touch of asperity. “It was her happiness.”
“I know.” Touched by her stepmother’s putting Miranda’s happiness over her own desire for her to marry a peer of the realm, Miranda went to Elizabeth and sat down beside her, taking her hand. “And I appreciate that. Truly.”
“Miranda can hold her own with any man,” Joseph said confidently.
“Yes, I can,” Miranda replied with a grin. “And that includes you…so don’t go thinking that you’ve won me over.” She squeezed Elizabeth’s hand. “I only agreed to meet this earl, and I have no intention of marrying him, I assure you.”
Her stepmother retained her worried expression. “But you haven’t seen him yet. He’s, well, the sort who can change anyone’s mind.”
“Handsome, is he?” Joseph asked. “Well, that’s good, isn’t it, Miranda?”
“And charming—or so I understand,” Elizabeth added.
“That was fourteen years ago,” Miranda pointed out. “Fourteen years of dissipated living can do a lot to change one’s looks.”
“That’s true.” Elizabeth brightened a little.
“Anyway, I am not about to be swayed by a pretty face. You must realize that. Remember how angelic looking that Italian count was? And I wasn’t the least tempted to accept his offer.”
Elizabeth did not look entirely reassured, but she smiled faintly at Miranda. “I know. I can still see the shock on his face when you turned him down.”
“And this one will look the same,” Miranda told her confidently. “You’ll see.”
Devin could not get the idea of the American heiress out of his mind after his relatives left. Finally he picked up his hat and left the house. He walked, hoping that the air would clear his still-aching and foggy head, but when he arrived a few minutes later at Stuart’s apartment, he felt little better. Stuart’s valet answered the door and looked a trifle shocked when Devin suggested he awaken his master.
With an impatient noise, Devin pushed past him and took the stairs two at a time up to Stuart’s room, the valet running at his heels, squawking anxiously. The noise awakened Stuart, and he was sitting up in his bed, sleeping cap slipping to the side, looking both annoyed and befuddled, when Devin opened the door and stepped into the room.
“Hallo, Stuart.”
“Good Gawd, Ravenscar,” his friend replied without any noticeable appreciation of his visit. “What the devil are you doing here? What time is it?”
“It’s two o’clock in the afternoon, sir,” the valet put in, wringing his hands. “I beg your pardon, sir, I could not keep him out.”
“Oh, give over.” Stuart waved the nervous man out of the room. “I’m not blaming you. No one can keep Ravenscar out if he decides to come in. Just go fetch me some tea. No, make that coffee. Very strong.”
“Very good, sir.” The man backed subserviently out of the room.
“When did you get him?” Devin asked, strolling over to a chair and flopping down in it. “Nervous sort.”
“Yes. I know. Afraid I’ll let him go. I will, too,” Stuart went on meditatively, “if he don’t stop messing up my ascots. I miss Rickman. Damn that Holingbroke for stealing him away from me.”
“Hardly stealing,” Devin pointed out mildly. “I believe he offered to actually pay the man.”
Stuart grimaced, muttering, “No loyalty.” He rubbed his hands over his face and sighed. “Damn, Dev, what are you doing here? I have the most ferocious headache.”
“Mmm. Not feeling too well myself. But my mother and sister visited me an hour ago.”
“No excuse to inflict yourself on me,” his friend pointed out reasonably.
“Lady Ravenscar wants me to marry.”
Stuart’s eyebrows rose. “Anyone in particular?”
“An American heiress. Fur trader’s daughter or some such thing.”
“An heiress, eh? Some people have all the luck. What’s her name?”
“I have no idea. I have no intention of marrying her.”
“Good Gawd, why not? You’re on your last legs. All of London knows it.”
“I’m not done in yet,” Devin protested.
Stuart snorted. “You owe at least three gentlemen of our acquaintance gambling debts, and you know your name will be blackened if you don’t pay them soon. Last night we had to leave by your back door, if you’ll remember, because that damned bill collector was hanging about out front. No need to pay a tradesman, of course—won’t ruin your name. But it’s a damned nuisance, tripping over those fellows all the time.”
Devin sighed. “I know. It’s worse than it was that time Father cut me off. At least then everyone knew I had an inheritance coming when he died. Between gambling and putting people off, I did all right.”
“Not the same now, though. There’s no blunt lying in your future. I’ve experienced it for years—younger son, they know I won’t inherit, never give me an inch. It’s bloody unfair, but there you have it. Tailors are the worst. As if it don’t bring them plenty of other business, my wearing their suits.”
Devin smiled faintly at his friend’s logic. “That’s true. It’s terribly selfish of them to want to get paid.”
“That’s what I told that Goldman chap, but he just kept chattering about payment. Finally had to give him a few guineas to shut him up.” He brightened a little. “Mayhap I’ll pay him off, now that I won that pot.” He stopped, frowning. “But no, there’s that gold-handled cane I saw yesterday—rather spend it on that. What’s the use of paying
