CHAPTER 12
Miranda shrieked, twisting and grabbing frantically as she fell. With one hand she managed to grab one of the slender railings, and she held on for dear life. Below her she could hear her father shout her name and the sound of feet running. Her arm felt as if it were about to tear out of its socket, and her fingers were slipping from the railing. She scrabbled desperately with her other hand for some purchase, but found nothing but slick wood floor. Then the rail snapped, and she plummeted toward the floor below.
But the seconds when she had clung to the railing had given Devin enough time to reach the spot below her, and he caught her as she fell, so that instead of crashing into the hard wood, she thudded against the solid flesh of his chest. He staggered back under the force of their collision, and they fell into a heap on the floor. For a moment they lay there, stunned. Devin’s arms were clasped around Miranda so tightly she could scarcely breathe, and she realized an instant later that she was clinging to him equally hard. She closed her eyes, and a shiver ran through her. For an instant she had thought she was gone.
“Miranda! Are you all right? Jesus God, I thought you were dead!” Her father, who had run for the stairs to climb up to her, now hurried over to where they lay.
“I—I’m all right,” Miranda said, her voice muffled by Devin’s shirt.
Joseph reached down and grasped her arm, helping her up, and Devin released her. She stood up, brushing at her dress with her hands. She wanted to burst into tears, she realized, to throw herself back against Devin’s firm chest and give way to hysterical sobs. But that was not her way. Besides, she told herself, Devin had just saved her life; she shouldn’t repay him by turning into a sodden, clinging female.
She clasped her hands together to hide their trembling and turned to Devin. She tried to give him a smile, but it didn’t work. “Thank you. You saved my life.”
“You’re welcome. I—You scared the very devil out of me.”
“Me too,” Miranda confessed, and this time a smile came out. “I should have been more careful. I know the whole place is infested with woodworm.”
Devin nodded and glanced upward at the empty stretch of balcony where the railing had fallen. “I didn’t realize it was that bad.”
He looked at the balcony for a long moment, a frown starting on his forehead.
“I think a nice rest would be in order for you, my dear,” Joseph said, putting his arm around his daughter. “Come along, I’ll take you up to your room.”
“But I am supposed to see Mr. Strong after this,” Miranda began to protest.
“Don’t worry about Strong. He’ll probably welcome the chance to recover from the shock of meeting you,” Devin told her with a grin. “I’ll send him a note telling him you will see him later. The place has been going to the devil for years. It won’t matter if you take another day or two to whip it into shape.”
Miranda’s legs were beginning to tremble in the aftermath of her fear, and she was afraid that she would start to shake all over if she stayed there much longer, so she nodded and let her father lead her out of the room.
Devin stood where he was for a moment, looking at the open doorway. His heart was still pounding like a mad thing. He didn’t think he would ever forget the sight of her tumbling off the loft. For an instant it had been as if the world had stopped.
He turned then and went up the staircase, walking along the loft until he got to the vacant spot where Miranda had fallen. He looked down at the break in the wood, first on one side, then on the other. They were the same—neatly sawed almost all the way through, only the bottom third torn and jagged. Someone had laid a trap, and Miranda had fallen into it.
* * *
Miranda refused to move back the wedding because of her fall. That evening, after a nap had restored her nerves, she was a little embarrassed by everyone’s concern, and she assured them all that she was fine.
“My pride is bruised, mostly,” she said with a smile. “There is no reason not to continue with the wedding as we had planned. The worst thing that’s wrong with me is a slightly sprained wrist.”
So the following afternoon Devin and Miranda were wed in the village church. The ceremony was simple and brief, as Miranda had requested, but the church was filled with the scent of the masses of white roses on either side of the altar, and the old stone church was cozy and bathed in the golden light of the fading afternoon sun. It was for Miranda a beautiful moment, sweet and profound, and the words the vicar spoke resonated through her. This was what she wanted. This was what was meant to be.
Devin’s hand was warm and firm around hers. She glanced up at him. His face showed little expression, and she wondered what he was thinking, whether he was sad or happy, or scared at the prospect of losing his freedom. She wondered if he thought of Leona and wished that it was she instead of Miranda who stood beside him there. Fiercely, Miranda swore to herself that she would someday erase the thought of Leona from his mind.
They rode back to Darkwater in an open barouche, and along the way, the people of the village turned out to wave and smile and cry out good wishes and congratulations. There would be a large party for all of them in the side yard at Darkwater this evening, while the Aincourts’ friends and family gathered to celebrate in the small ballroom.
She glanced over at Devin, who looked at her and winked. “All a bit medieval, isn’t it?”
Miranda chuckled. “You read my mind. But I am sure Papa is wallowing in it.”
“Pleasing your father must be very important to you.”
“I love him. But I wouldn’t do absolutely anything to please him.”
“Yet you married to please him.”
“I married to please myself.” The words slipped out before Miranda really thought about them.
“Indeed?” Devin’s eyes darkened. “Then I sincerely hope that I am able to accomplish that.”
“Doing what I want will please me,” Miranda explained. “I realized that life is much easier for a married woman than a single one, even one with as forward-thinking a father as mine. A married woman may go where she likes and with no one accompanying her, and no one thinks a thing of it. There are no silly restrictions about wearing whites and pastels and no bold colors. The world does not recoil in horror if she is alone with a man. And, of course, there are the other reasons I told you at the time we became engaged.”
“I remember.” Devin watched her for a moment. “You are an odd woman. Most women, when they speak about marriage, speak about love.”
“Many women feel the need to make the best of a bad situation,” Miranda replied crisply.
Devin was startled into laughter. “My dear Lady Ravenscar, you are hopelessly blunt.”
“It is very odd to be called that,” Miranda said softly.
“You had better get used to it.”
“I suppose so.”
He studied her thoughtful face. “Having regrets already?”
“No.” She looked up and smiled. “Merely thinking. Wondering what our lives will be like.”
“Unusual, I should think.”
“You are probably right.”
At the house, they moved up to the small ballroom, where a large repast had been laid out in celebration of the wedding. Family and friends were there, including all the people of the area who were considered of sufficient social standing to attend the country wedding of the Earl of Ravenscar. Miranda had been given to understand that a city wedding or one planned for months in advance would have been an entirely different thing. Invitations would have been much sought after, and many of the lesser gentry who would be here today would not have been part of the elite. Miranda had trouble understanding the ins and outs of who was suitable to be invited, the rules a seeming mish-mash of considerations of money, family standing, proximity and social entanglements. Miranda had nodded when Lady Ravenscar tried to explain and told her gratefully that she would leave it all in that lady’s hands.
Miranda and Devin stood in a receiving line just inside the ballroom, along with Devin’s mother, Uncle Rupert, and Rachel and her husband, all lined up in an esoteric order that they all seemed to understand without question. Miranda’s family brought up the end of the line, needless to say. Miranda was sandwiched between Devin and his mother, a fact for which she was grateful, as it eliminated the need for her to carry on much conversation. Devin would introduce her to whoever came up—or, if he could not remember, which was sometimes the case, his mother would smoothly come to the rescue and introduce the visitor to Miranda herself.
Miranda was saying a few words to the doctor when she felt Devin stiffen beside her. At almost the same moment, on the other side of her, Lady Ravenscar’s arm twitched convulsively. Curious, Miranda glanced over at the newest arrivals. An old woman was standing there, smiling at Devin, and behind her stood the woman Miranda had seen with Devin at the opera. Devin’s mistress had come to the wedding reception.
“Miss Vesey,” Devin said in a constrained voice to the old lady, bending down a little to shake her hand. “How nice to see you again. It has been a long time.”
“Yes. I don’t get around much these days. I was so glad that Lady Vesey offered to accompany me. You know Lady Vesey, don’t you, my nephew’s wife?”
“Yes. I know Lady Vesey.” Devin’s voice was cold and controlled, but Miranda could sense the intense emotion radiating from his body. She wished she knew exactly what he was feeling.
She had no doubt what his mother was feeling. Lady Ravenscar was as taut as a violin string, and Miranda suspected that she would have liked to fly across the few feet separating them and slap Leona.
Leona, on the other hand, looked like the cat who had got into the cream. She was dressed beautifully, in a conservative silk dress of a muted green, nothing like the low-cut gown she had worn to the opera. However, it fit her so well and did such wonderful things for her eyes and hair that it drew one’s attention almost as much as the evening gown had. She was stunning—hair, eyes, skin—and her beauty was just as dazzling close up as it had been at a distance. Miranda could not help but feel a frisson of uncertainty as she gazed at the other woman’s perfectly modeled face. How could she ever hope to compete with this woman for Devin’s affections?
“Ravenscar and I are old friends,” Leona said now, looking up into Devin’s face with laughing eyes. “Aren’t we, my lord? I hope you won’t mind my inviting myself along to the celebration. Vesey’s aunt needed an escort, otherwise I would never have imposed.”
“Of course not,” Devin’s mother said icily. “A lady would never do such a thing. Hello, Lady Vesey.”
Leona’s gaze slid over to Lady Ravenscar, and in doing so fell on Miranda. Her eyes widened a trifle, and Miranda thought she saw the woman stiffen before she smiled at her. It gave Miranda a wicked spurt of pleasure to think that the sight of her had discomfited the woman. Obviously Lady Vesey had expected a different sort of woman.
“Allow me to introduce you to Devin’s wife,” Lady Ravenscar went on. “Miranda, this is Lady Vesey. Her husband’s estate lies not too far away from here. We see very little of them, however.” She paused before adding, “They are almost always in London.”
Miranda ignored her momentary flash of uncertainty and held out her hand to the woman. “It’s nice to meet you, Lady Vesey. I am enjoying meeting Lady Ravenscar’s friends. If only we had known you were here, we would have sent you an invitation.”
Leona bridled a little at the suggestion that she was of an age with Devin’s mother, but there was no way that she could refute the statement. So she smiled, chalking the remark up to Miranda’s naivete, Miranda felt sure. “Thank you. You look so nice, my dear. Lady Ravenscar must have enjoyed fitting you out with clothes.”
Miranda chuckled. “You conjure up an interesting picture of me before I met Lady Ravenscar.”
“I am afraid I didn’t have enough time to accompany Miranda on her shopping expeditions,” Devin’s mother said, continuing the duel with Leona. “Fortunately, she has a wonderful sense of style and an understanding of what is appropriate and what is not.”
Miranda enjoyed seeing the faint flush rise in Leona’s cheeks. Lady Ravenscar had made a direct hit with her last statement. With great ingenuousness, Miranda went on, “You must come call on us, Lady Vesey. I would so love to talk to you again. I am sure that I will need all the advice I can get from ladies like you, who have been married a long time.”
The same quiver of expression crossed Leona’s face, a mixture of insult and uncertainty whether Miranda knew that she had been insulting or was simply too ignorant to realize what she had said.
“Yes. I would love to call on you.”
“Won’t that be delightful?” the old woman, Miss Vesey, said happily, and Miranda smiled at her with true warmth.
“You must come, too, Miss Vesey.”
“Of course, my dear. I wish you very happy, Lady Ravenscar.”
Leona added, “Yes, of course. Very happy.” She hesitated.
Miranda suspected that Leona had started to say her name as her elderly aunt had, but the words had stuck in her throat. Miranda thought that Leona had come because she had wanted to cause a stir, as well as get a glimpse of Miranda and remind Devin of who he really loved. But Miranda guessed that Lady Vesey had not thought through the whole idea of having to greet and congratulate her lover’s wife.
“Thank you, Lady Vesey,” Miranda replied, making it more difficult for her.
“Lady Ravenscar.” The words grated out of her throat, and then Leona turned and followed her husband’s aunt down the line.
Uncle Rupert said little to Leona, merely gave her a glance of horror, and Rachel favored the woman with a freezing look. Lord Westhampton was perfunctorily correct. To Miranda’s amusement, however, her own father greeted Lady Vesey with the same unrestrained delight he had displayed all evening. He chatted with the aunt and pumped Leona’s hand as he talked to her, chattering on in his amiable way about his daughter, Ravenscar and Darkwater.
Devin cast a sideways glance down at Miranda, gauging her reaction. He leaned closer to her and whispered, “I am sorry. I had no idea….”
“No. I am sure you did not,” Miranda replied equably and gave him an unconcerned smile. She had no intention of giving vent to her jealousy, least of all in front of Devin.
There were not many more guests to greet after that, and when the line broke up, Devin took Miranda’s hand and led her toward the floor. Every eye turned toward them expectantly, and the guests edged back to give them room. Devin nodded to the musicians at the end of the room, and they struck up a waltz. He turned to Miranda and offered her his hand, and she took it, moving into his arms as they began the steps of the dance.
She felt a trifle conspicuous, circling the floor, just the two of them, but it was a wonderful feeling as well, being in Devin’s arms, feeling his hand pressing against the small of her back, following him as naturally as breathing. She thought with a wicked little rush of pleasure of Leona having to watch the dance. Leona, she hoped, had gotten something different from what she had expected when she decided to invade the wedding celebration tonight.
While everyone was watching the newlyweds gracefully circle the room, Lady Ravenscar turned to her daughter and pulled her aside, whispering, “Did you have any idea that woman was planning to come here tonight?”
“No!” Rachel looked appalled. “Of course not. I would have told the servants not to admit her. I didn’t even know she was staying at Vesey Park.”
“She can’t have been here too long, then,” Rachel’s mother replied. “She usually creates a great stir when she does deign to visit the estate. She certainly did the first time she came.” Her mouth tightened, as much of a grimace as Lady Ravenscar ever allowed herself.
Rachel knew she was referring to the first time Devin had met Leona, when he had been only a boy of seventeen and had fallen in love with her with all the heat and urgency of which only an adolescent boy is capable.
“Well, at least the girl doesn’t know anything about her,” Lady Ravenscar said. “I started to give that witch the cut direct, but I knew that would give Miranda a hint that something was up where Lady Vesey was concerned. It was an insult to Miranda, of course, but as long as she does not know it was an insult, it won’t hurt her.”
Rachel, however, was well aware that Miranda did indeed know who Leona was and what significance she played in Devin’s life, so as soon as the dance was over, Rachel moved toward Miranda.
The bride was engulfed by well-wishers as soon as she and Devin walked from the floor and he bowed to her, releasing her hand and turning her over to them. Miranda, coming back to normalcy with some difficulty after the romantic dance, struggled not to look after Devin’s retreating figure to see if he went straight to his mistress. She conversed with the strangers as best she could, relieved when Rachel appeared and tucked her hand through her arm, smiling at the others and saying that she must steal her new sister away.
Rachel led her deftly out of the room to the hall beyond and over to a secluded alcove, which held an empty window seat. “I am terribly sorry,” she told Miranda as soon as they were out of earshot of the other guests. “I had no idea she was even in the area. I wouldn’t have dreamed that even Leona would have the gall to come here tonight!”
“It’s all right,” Miranda assured her with more calm than she felt. “I think it all went well enough.” She smiled at her new sister-in-law. “And the dance was divine. I am too happy right now to worry about Lady Vesey.”
“Are you?” Rachel asked delightedly. “Are you truly happy?”
“I am. Though not as happy as I hope to be in the future.”
“You care for him, don’t you?” Rachel said, laying her hand on Miranda’s arm. “You didn’t marry him for all this, did you?” She waved her hand in a broad gesture.
Miranda laughed pleasantly. “No. All this can be bought. A husband requires a great deal more than payment. I would not tie myself to someone for life to acquire a house, however grand it is.”
“I knew it!” Rachel looked gleeful. “I am positive that you will make Devin happy.”
“I cannot guarantee that,” Miranda demurred, then added with a glint of a smile, “I will do my best, however.”
* * *
Her husband was at that moment making his way through the room, doing his best to appear to be aimlessly chatting with his guests, all the while glancing around for Leona and plotting how best and most unobtrusively to separate her from the others and take her out of the room. Finally he spotted her at the other end of the room, standing close to one of the doors. She was watching him, and when their gazes met, she nodded her head toward the door and slipped out. Devin made a polite excuse to the vicar’s cousin, who had stopped him to congratulate him, and followed Leona.
He wound his way through the crowd and out the same door. There was no sign of Leona, but the staircase just a few steps down the hall led to the back garden, so he followed his hunch that she had taken it. He hurried down the steps and out the back door. Sure enough, there was Leona, waiting for him, an alluring, mischievous smile on her face.
“What the devil do you think you’re doing?” Devin burst out, his eyes flashing. He strode over to her and grabbed her wrist.
“What’s the matter?” Leona asked with a pout. “Aren’t you happy to see me?”
“It is my wedding day!” He glanced around, then pulled her behind one of the overgrown hedges that had grown up all over the yard. “Have you run mad? What are you doing here?”
“Oh, Dev, don’t be angry with me.” She smiled up at him, one hand coming up to his chest in a placating way. “I just wanted to see you.”
When he did not respond with a smile but continued to stare at her in a stony way, Leona took a step back, one eyebrow going up and an angry light flaring in her eyes.
“How else was I supposed to see you except to come here?” she asked bitingly. “You didn’t even come to call on me before you left. You sent me a note!”
“You refused to see me when I came to call, if you will remember,” Devin replied. “I got turned away three times by your butler. It was tiresome.”
“What did you expect after you walked out on me at the opera?” Leona pointed out. “And with Stuart and Geoffrey there to witness it, too! It was humiliating.” She paused, then added, “You used to be more persistent. You know I would have given in eventually.”
“Yes, well, I had to leave for Darkwater, so I didn’t have the time for games. That is why I sent you a note, telling you what I was doing. I never expected you to show up here.”
“What else was I to do? I wanted to see your bride. Besides, I thought you might enjoy a little…diversion after two weeks of being locked up in Darkwater. So I decided to take a few weeks’ rest at Vesey’s estate. It is where we met, you know. Do you remember that?” She moved back to him, smiling in a beckoning way.
To Leona’s surprise, Devin did not soften or smile back. He said only, “Of course I do. But surely you must see how…how wrong it is to come here today. You were flaunting our relationship in everyone’s face.”
“Since when did you and I worry about right and wrong?” She went up on tiptoe and brushed her lips against his. “Come, Devin, don’t be angry. So I gave everyone a little something more to gossip about. We have long done that, haven’t we? And we could…alleviate your boredom, if you’d like.” She slid her hand down his chest and into the waistband of his trousers.
“Bloody hell, Leona!” Devin jerked away. “Are you mad? Our house is full of wedding guests. Anyone could come out here and find us. It’s an insult to my wife for you to even be here.”
Leona’s eyes narrowed. “My, my, aren’t we protective of the little wife all of a sudden. When did you become so provincial?”
“Good Lord, Leona, she is Lady Ravenscar now. I cannot allow her to be insulted in my own home. What did you expect? You are the one who wanted me to marry her, if you’ll remember.”
“I didn’t expect you to suddenly become a doting husband!” Leona lashed back. “I didn’t think you would hare off to Darkwater, leaving me not knowing when you would return. Or that you would stand there smiling like a fool because you were introducing some insipid little colonial as your wife. The idea was for you to marry her, then return to me and our life in London.”
“I know. And that is what I am doing. I married her, and after a decent stay here I will come back to London.” Devin realized even as he said the words that the idea of leaving Miranda and returning to London left him strangely uncomfortable.
“Decent stay?” Leona repeated. “I cannot believe what I am hearing! When did you start worrying about what was decent or acceptable? When did you turn all proper and respectable?”
“Proper? Respectable?” Devin had to chuckle. “Leona, my dear, I think you are being a trifle farfetched. I did not want to get married. It was you who insisted on it. But now that I have done it, I have to go on with it. I couldn’t exactly leave her at the church and hie off to London.”
“Once you would have,” Leona told him.
Devin said nothing. He knew that what Leona said was true. Years ago, even a few months ago, he could not have waited to get away from Darkwater. He would have spent the past two weeks dreaming about Leona and returning to London. The truth was, he had scarcely thought about either one of them; most of his thoughts had been occupied by the supremely irritating Miss Upshaw.
“You told me you hated this girl,” Leona went on.
“She is the most annoying female I have ever met,” he responded candidly, but his words were accompanied by a softening of his expression, and a faint smile played over his lips.
Leona frowned. “Whatever is the matter with you? Don’t tell me you have developed a tendre for that insipid female!”
Devin chuckled again. “Insipid is the last word I would use to describe Miranda. Don’t be ridiculous. I have not developed a tendre for her. I cannot be in the same room with her for two minutes without getting into an argument.”
He thought it best not to mention the fact that he also could not go to sleep at night because he could not stop thinking about her sleeping just one door away from him, or that he went downstairs every morning eager for another encounter with Miranda. Leona had always been unconcerned about his sexual interest in other women. But somehow this time he thought she would not be so understanding.
His laughter soothed Leona. She knew the intensity of Devin’s desire; she had been the object of it for fourteen years, after all. And she could not imagine him laughing about a woman who was the object of that fierce lust.
Leona gave one of her throaty chuckles, leaning her head back to look up at him. “Well, you know where I am…any time you grow tired of dancing attendance on your heiress.”
“Yes. I know. Now…will you kindly collect your aunt and return to Vesey Park?”
Irritation flared up in Leona again. The entire evening had not gone at all as she had planned. The American had not been the mousy, retiring girl she had assumed she was. She was not beautiful, of course, as Leona herself was—but she seemed not at all intimidated by Leona, and she had looked thoroughly at home in her elegant gown, standing there at Devin’s side. Then Devin had followed Leona outside, and instead of eagerly seizing her and exclaiming how glad he was that she was there, how much he wanted her, he had flown into a fury because she had dared to come to the wedding party and “insult” his odious wife.
“Yes, I will go,” she snapped. “If this is the way you are going to act, I may just go all the way back to London. I am sure there are several men there who would be happy to keep me entertained while you are cooling your heels up here in the hinterlands!”
She turned and swept away, satisfied that she had roused enough simmering jealousy with her last remark that it would not be long before Devin decided to come to call at Vesey Park.
It would have filled her with gall if she had known that Devin’s first thought was a hope that she would make good her threat instead of staying here to try to stir up trouble. He waited for a few minutes, then returned to the house and went to look for Miranda.
* * *
He was not sure what he expected Miranda to be like when he returned—but it certainly wasn’t the laughing creature he found talking to Michael and his sister, the one who turned to him without the faintest hint of resentment or distrust and smiled, saying, “Ah, there you are, Devin. I wondered where you had gotten to.”
The absence of jealousy and anger seemed so surreal that for an instant he wondered if perhaps Miranda really didn’t know about Leona. But then he recalled that she had mentioned her during that bizarre proposal of hers, and he was even more puzzled by her lack of animosity. Most women, he was certain, would have been raving at the idea that their husband’s mistress had showed up at their wedding. It was then that he realized she truly did not care whether he had affairs or even kept a mistress. The knowledge galled him.
He knew he should have been happy about it. He couldn’t have asked for an arrangement better suited to him. What he felt, however, was closer to resentment than to happiness.
In point of fact, Miranda was quite relieved to see him—so much so that it overwhelmed any irritation or jealousy, making it easy to be pleasant and calm. She had been surreptitiously searching the ballroom for Devin ever since she and Rachel had returned; and his absence had set up a worry and fear in Miranda that she was not accustomed to feeling. She had been afraid that he had slipped away from the party with his lover, that he had been so overcome with desire and love for Leona that he had disappeared to some hideaway with her. That fear was heightened by the fact that she could not catch a glimpse of Leona, either. She knew that Rachel had been concerned about the same thing by the faintly pinched look around Rachel’s eyes and the way she kept unobtrusively checking the room.
Now Devin was here, and Miranda could unclench her fists and let her shoulders relax. She would not be a satisfied bride tonight, but at least she would not be a publicly abandoned one.
Rachel’s smile indicated how relieved she, too, was that Devin had reappeared. “Devin, there you are, and just in time. Don’t you think it is getting to be time for the married couple to leave?”
“Already?” Miranda looked a little startled. “But the party is still quite lively.”
“Yes, but the bride and groom always leave well before the end,” Rachel said firmly.
“Oh.” Miranda suspected that Rachel was doing her best to get Devin and Miranda as far away from Lady Vesey’s presence as possible. She would want to make sure that Miranda did not run into the woman a second time that night.
Miranda suspected that Leona, having accomplished her purpose, had already left. She also suspected that the reason she had been unable to locate Devin had been because he was seeing Leona off. However, she preferred not to think about that. He had not left with her, and that was all Miranda needed to know at present.
She did not mind leaving the party, in any case. Keeping up a cheerful, pleasant front the past few minutes had been something of an ordeal, and she was quite ready to get away from all the strangers and retreat to the comfort and safety of her room.
“Shall we go, then?” Devin turned to Miranda. “We can slip away without anyone knowing and avoid all the fuss.”
“That sounds wonderful,” Miranda replied honestly.
“I have nipped out of here many a time,” Devin assured her. “It’s easy. First, we shall go get a plate of food.”
“All right.”
They made their way through the crowd, smiling and nodding to well-wishers, but deftly avoiding coming to a full stop. At the buffet table, they loaded their plates and again wound through the crowd.
“Just act as if you’re looking for an open space to sit and eat,” Devin whispered. “Now we are almost to the door. Don’t look around or act guilty—someone is sure to catch you then. Just walk as if we’re heading toward those seats and now…out the door.”
Miranda slipped through the open doorway, with Devin right behind her.
“The back stairs are over here.” He nodded toward them. “Come on, we’ll have a picnic. I’m starving, and I haven’t be able to get near the food all night. How about you?”
Miranda nodded agreement. “Where shall we go?”
“I know a place.” He led the way up the stairs and along the hallway to a large room. Handing his plate to her, he lit a lamp in the room from one of the hallway sconces and ushered her inside. He made a sweeping gesture of the room. “Tables, chairs…”
“The nursery!”
“I grant you that they are a trifle miniature-size, but we can make do.” He took the plates and laid them down on the table, then pulled out one of the small chairs in a grand gesture. “If my lady will sit.”
Miranda grinned. “I should be honored, my lord.”
She sat down, and Devin took his place opposite her. She smothered a giggle at the sight of him sitting with his knees almost up to his chin, and he gave her a mock frown. “I am the lord of the manor, I’ll have you know. You mustn’t make jest of me.”
“I would never do such a thing,” Miranda assured him solemnly. Picking up her fork, she tucked into her food with enthusiasm. Her stomach had been too nervous for her to eat earlier, and now, she realized, she was ravenous.
While they ate, Devin entertained her with stories about his childhood, pointing out the cupboard where he had hidden as a little boy in order to jump out and scare his sisters, but had then fallen asleep and been presumed lost, with the whole household out looking for him.
“Only the first of many misadventures,” he told her with a wry grin.
They talked and laughed, sitting there incongruously in their wedding finery, and it seemed to Miranda the happiest wedding dinner she could possibly have had.
Later they walked down to the medieval musicians’ gallery, a small screened room that jutted out above the ballroom below. Through the latticework, they could look down on the party and hear the mingling of music, laughter and talk that rose from it.
“Rachel and Caro and I used to sneak in here after Nurse fell asleep and watch our parents’ parties,” Devin said. “They weren’t terribly exciting, but they seemed so to us—mostly because they were forbidden.”
“That always makes things much more fun,” Miranda agreed.
He took her hand, and it seemed the most natural thing in the world, pleasant and warm, in keeping with the light, happy aura of their “picnic.” But there was an underlying current of excitement in the touch, as well, a knowledge of his skin against hers, his warmth, his flesh, his smell—this man who was almost a stranger to her, yet her husband, as well.
They strolled along the hallway to her room, and Devin opened the door, stepping aside for her to enter. She turned to say good-night, but he was already coming in the door, too.
“What—what are you doing?”
Devin closed the door behind him, and his eyes locked on hers. “Tonight is our wedding night.” He took a step forward, and his hands went to her shoulders. “And I am your husband.”