shook his head. “He’ll squawk. I may have to start going to another chap. Pity. Fellow knows how to make the shoulders of my coats exactly as I like them.”
“Padded?”
Stuart rolled his eyes. “Why did you say you came here?”
“The American heiress.”
“Oh, yes. Are you saying you’re thinking of not jumping on the offer?”
“The last thing I want is a wife.”
“Yes. Damned nuisances, usually. Still…hard to argue with having coins in your pocket. What else are you going to do, anyway? You’ve run through your entire fortune. Told me so yourself.”
“Such as it was. The earls of Ravenscar have been improvident for years. Even my father, holy soldier that he was, spent money like water.”
“There you have it. Have to do something to recoup the family fortunes. It’s your duty as an Aincourt and all that. That’s the good thing about being a younger son. Don’t have to worry about family duty much. Usually involves doing something boring, duty does.”
“Yes.” Dev was silent for a moment, then said quietly, “What about your sister?”
“Leona?” Stuart looked at him uncomprehendingly. “What does it have to do with her?”
Dev raised an eyebrow and looked at him pointedly.
“Oh, that. Well, it makes no difference if you’re married, does it? Leona’s shackled to Vesey. Been that way this whole time, hasn’t she? Why shouldn’t you be married, too? This fur trapper’s daughter won’t change anything. Get an heir on her and pack her off to Darkwater and enjoy her money.” He looked up as the door opened and his valet entered with a tray. “Ah, there you are. Set it on the table and fetch my dressing gown. Dev, be a good chap and look in that cabinet. There should be some Irish whiskey in it. Make the coffee palatable.”
“Of course.” Devin went over to the small Oriental cabinet and rummaged about in it until he found a small bottle of whiskey. He didn’t know why he worried about such things, he thought as he pulled out the bottle and added liberal splashes of alcohol to the cups of coffee the valet had poured for them. Stuart, and nearly everyone else he knew, would not give a moment’s thought to marrying this woman. And if they did hesitate, it would be only at the thought of mingling their blue blood with her common sort. Once they were married, he would, of course, have control of her money, and there would be nothing to stop him from leaving her at Darkwater as Stuart suggested, while he went back to his life in London—with Leona. Nor would he be technically disloyal to Leona. She was married, after all. And one could hardly expect him to let the line of Aincourts fail just because he loved a married woman.
It was foolish of him to balk, he told himself. It was scarcely as if he lived the life of an honorable man. He lived, as his father had pointed out many times, among the dregs of polite society, consorting with cardsharps, drunkards and bawdy women. It seemed absurd to hesitate about taking a wife because of his mistress—or because he would undoubtedly make this rustic heiress miserable.
“You’re right, no doubt,” he told Stuart, taking a sip of the liberally laced coffee. His stomach shuddered a little when the strong mixture hit it, but then it calmed, and the rest went down smoothly.
“’Course I am. You going to offer for her?”
“I’m not sure. I told Mother I would meet her. Dinner at Lady Ravenscar’s tonight.”
“Grim.” Stuart made a face at the thought. “Much better go with us. Boly and I are visiting Madame Valencia’s.”
“I am sure a brothel would be more entertaining,” Devin agreed. “But I ought to meet this chit, I suppose.”
“Well, if you don’t offer for her, give me her name,” Stuart told him, grinning. “I’ll take her—squint, bow legs, spotty skin and all. I’m always short of the ready.”
“I shall keep you in mind,” Devin told him gravely, and they settled down to the far more enjoyable business of drinking and discussing a curricle race they had attended the week before.
Miranda leaned closer to her father and whispered in his ear, “I believe this little dinner to meet Lord Ravenscar might have been more of a success if Lord Ravenscar had actually attended it.”
“Now, Miranda, my love,” Joseph said ingratiatingly, “he might still come. It’s only—” he sneaked a glance at his pocket watch “—ten-thirty.”
“The invitation was for nine,” Miranda reminded him. The party had waited for Lord Ravenscar for almost thirty minutes before they went in to eat. But the elaborate, multicourse dinner had now drawn to a close, and the company had retired to the music room, where one of the guests, a blond, rather toothy woman, was butchering Mozart.
“Unless the man was run over by a wagon or something of equal severity,” Miranda went on in a whisper, “he is at the very least excessively rude. Personally, I am putting my money on his not showing at all.”
The female pianist stopped, and everyone applauded graciously. Fortunately, she did not offer to play another piece. Lady Westhampton turned in her seat so that she was facing Miranda and smiled. “Miss Upshaw, I am so sorry,” she said sweetly. “I must apologize for my brother. I cannot imagine what has detained him.”
“From what I have heard about him, I imagine it was a game of cards,” Miranda replied crisply.
“Miranda!” Joseph turned to Rachel. “I beg your pardon, Lady Westhampton. My daughter is not usually so…so…”
“Truthful?” Miranda put in helpfully. “No, I’m afraid that I am, Papa. But I am sorry, Lady Westhampton, if I offended you. I like you a great deal. You are by far the nicest member of the Ton that I have met.”
Rachel smiled. “Thank you, Miss Upshaw. And I have to admit that I understand perfectly your feelings at the moment toward my brother. It is terribly impolite of Devin to be this late.” She looked pained. “You are probably thinking that he will not make an appearance at all, and you may be right. You can see that he needs someone to take him in hand.”
“No doubt he does. However, I am not looking for a husband, let alone one who must be schooled like a child. I came here only because my father was eager for me to meet Lord Ravenscar, and I feel that I have done enough to satisfy my obligation to him. Papa?” She turned to Joseph. “I am ready to take our leave now.”
“Oh, surely, not,” Joseph protested immediately. “Why, there’s, uh…”
“Cards, later, in the drawing room,” Rachel supplied. “I believe Lady Ravenscar promised your father a game of whist.”
“Yes, that’s it. Whist. Quite looking forward to it.”
“Very well, then,” Miranda said reasonably. “I shall take the carriage home and send it back for you later.”
“Please.” Rachel reached out impulsively and took Miranda’s hand. “Can I not persuade you to remain a few minutes longer? My brother is rude, I agree, but he is a good man at heart, I promise you. He is, as you doubtless are, reluctant to enter into this sort of relationship.”
“I
