So Wild A Heart

by Candace Camp

  “Devin? Oh, no, Elizabeth, not at all. You must not think that. I am very glad I married Devin.”

  “Really?” Elizabeth looked doubtful. “I worry that it was a mistake. I fear that Joseph pushed you into it.”

  “Elizabeth, you know that no one pushes me into anything. I married Ravenscar because I wanted to. And I am quite happy. I am only a little tired this morning from the party last night.”

  “Yes. I confess I am a little tired myself. I haven’t danced that much for years. But I could hardly turn down that nice young doctor, and of course…” she grinned like a schoolgirl confessing a secret, “it is always magical dancing with your father.”

  Miranda, who had danced with her father many times, found it an indication of Elizabeth’s considerable love for him, that she could deem his dancing magical.

  Elizabeth took another gulp of the chocolate. She had taken a handkerchief out of the pocket of her skirt, and she was worrying it between her fingers now, twisting and pulling and wadding it up. Miranda’s gaze went down to the poor abused bit of linen.

  “There is more, isn’t there? That isn’t all that brought you here.”

  “Well…oh, dear. I don’t know how to say this.”

  “Just say it.”

  “I know you will say I am being foolish.”

  “I won’t. I promise.”

  “Well, I—I—I’m just so worried!” she broke out finally, and Miranda realized with dismay that the older woman’s eyes were swimming with tears.

  “Elizabeth, please…” She leaned over and laid her hand over her stepmother’s hands, to still them. “Are you in some kind of trouble?”

  “No!” Elizabeth laughed a little shrilly. “It’s not I who is in trouble. It is you!”

  “Me? Whatever do you mean? I am doing quite well, I assure you.”

  “No. No, you aren’t. Miranda, I think—” She turned her hands up and clutched her stepdaughter’s, squeezing them as if they were a lifeline. She stared into Miranda’s eyes, her own gaze filled with acute pain and fear. “Miranda, he is trying to kill you!”

  16

  Miranda stared back at her stepmother blankly. “What? Who? What are you talking about?”

  “Your husband. Lord Ravenscar.”

  Miranda’s jaw dropped. Had Elizabeth completely lost her wits? “Dev?” she finally gasped.

  “Yes. Dev. Miranda, think!” The light in Elizabeth’s eyes was a little unnerving. Involuntarily Miranda thought of the mad old man who had barged into their house in London, ranting about Devin murdering his granddaughter, and she shivered.

  “There have been several attacks on your life since we came here,” Elizabeth went on earnestly.

  “What? Elizabeth, what are you talking about?”

  “You fell from that balcony.”

  “Because I was foolish enough to lean on a railing that had been eaten by woodworms. That was all.”

  “What about when you went riding and the chunk of rock almost killed you and Joseph.”

  “That was an accident, too,” Miranda said soothingly.

  “How can you say that?” Elizabeth replied agitatedly. She finished off the cup of hot chocolate, her hand trembling so that the cup rattled in the saucer when she set it back down. “You could have been killed either time.”

  “Yes, but I was not. And there is nothing to say that they were not simply accidents.”

  “Two such ‘accidents’ in a row!” Elizabeth’s voice rose to a squeak. “Don’t you see? He is trying to hurt you. Get rid of you. The man is wicked!”

  “Elizabeth!” Miranda straightened, her face growing cold and set. “I cannot allow you to speak that way about my husband.”

  “He has blinded you to his faults. I knew he would.” Tears sprang into her stepmother’s eyes.

  “Elizabeth, please…” Miranda said more gently, putting her hand on Elizabeth’s arm in a soothing gesture. She knew that she should not allow her stepmother to anger her with her comments about Devin. It was obvious that something was affecting Elizabeth’s mind, and Miranda told herself that she must be gentle with the woman. “You are upsetting yourself over nothing. I know that Dev had a bad reputation, but that is not who he is. He is a good man. I am sure of it. He would not try to kill me.”

  “You don’t know. You don’t know him!”

  “Neither do you,” Miranda pointed out. “Besides, I think I know him much better than you realize.”

  “I knew you wouldn’t listen.” Elizabeth sank her face onto her hands.

  “Of course I am listening to you,” Miranda insisted. “I understand that you are very upset, and I am sorry for that. But there is nothing to fear. Really. Both those events were accidents. I know it is a trifle odd for two accidents to happen in a row like that, but such things do occur. Haven’t you ever noticed how you will seem accident prone for several days in a row? I am that way. The railing was old, and we all know that much of the wood at Darkwater was infested with woodworm. There is nothing odd about it breaking under pressure. And limestone rock breaks off and falls frequently. Everyone who lives here says so. Neither incident was unusual.”

  “Yes, he is clever.” Elizabeth sighed, looking weary.

  “Besides, Devin could not have pushed the rock down on me. He was riding with us.”

  “He could easily have had a cohort at the top of the cliff to dislodge the stone and push it down.”

  “Endangering him, too?”

  “Was he riding beside you?”

  Miranda paused, thinking. “Well, no, he was a few yards ahead, talking to his uncle.”

  “You see?” Elizabeth exclaimed triumphantly. “It was you and Joseph who were almost killed, while Ravenscar was far from the danger.”

  “Elizabeth, please, I don’t know why you dislike Devin so. You hardly know him. You should come down to dinner more often, sit with us after the meal. Talk to him. I think you would find that he is a much nicer person than anything you have heard about him.”

  “Oh, I know he is charming. That is not the issue.” Elizabeth yawned, covering her mouth politely. “I’m sorry. I just…suddenly I feel very tired.”

  “Yes, no doubt you need to rest,” Miranda agreed.

  “No. Not until you understand…” Her words were interrupted by another yawn. “Oh, dear me.”

  “Please, why don’t you go up to your room and sleep?” Miranda suggested, eager to get her stepmother out of there. “You will feel much better when you wake up. You will see that you have gotten worried over the merest trifle.”

  “No, I won’t.” Elizabeth rubbed her hand across her face, looking confused.

  Miranda frowned in concern. “Are you feeling all right, Elizabeth? Are you ill? Let me ring for a maid to help you up to your room.”

  “Oh, no, dear, don’t be silly. I don’t need help.”

  At that moment a footman entered the room, coughed politely to draw their attention, and announced, “Lady Vesey and Miss Vesey to see you, my lady.”

  “Lady Vesey?” Miranda looked up, surprised.

  “Leona!” Elizabeth exclaimed. It was clear from her face, Miranda thought, that someone had informed her stepmother of what Lady Vesey was to Lord Ravenscar.

  The servant came forward with the small silver tray, on which sat two calling cards, one for the spinster aunt and one for Leona. A faint smile touched Miranda’s lips. She was never one to turn down a challenge.

  “Why, yes,” she told the servant. “Show Lady Vesey into the drawing room.”

  When the servant had bowed out of the room, Elizabeth turned toward Miranda, her eyes huge. “My dear, do you think you should? I understand from Lady Ravenscar that she is, well, not usually admitted into the best circles.”

  “Yes, Elizabeth, I know. However, I have an interest in talking to Lady Vesey. I feel sure that it will not tarnish my reputation to receive her. Do you wish to come?”

  “I believe that I will go upstairs and lie down, as you suggested,” Eliza
beth said quickly. “I hate to think what Lady Ravenscar will say about this….”

  “Don’t worry,” Miranda assured her. “It won’t be anything I cannot handle.”

  Her stepmother rose and started out of the room, then paused, looking back at Miranda. “Dear…please, you will be careful, won’t you? Promise me?”

  “Yes, of course I will.”

  Elizabeth nodded, still looking unsatisfied, and left the library. Miranda straightened her dress and went out into the hall, stopping at the mirror a few feet away to check the state of her hair. Her cheeks were pink and her eyes sparkling in anticipation of the scene before her, so she had few qualms about her looks.

  She continued down the hall and into the formal drawing room. She walked in to find Leona Vesey standing with Lord Vesey’s aunt in the center of the room, facing a rigid Lady Ravenscar, whose nose and mouth were pinched into a pattern of disapproval. Rachel, seated beside her mother, looked less disapproving than furious.

  It was clear that Devin’s mother had questioned Leona’s presence there, for as Miranda walked in, Leona was saying, “…with Lady Ravenscar’s approval—the new Lady Ravenscar, that is.”

  “Hello, Lady Vesey,” Miranda said cheerfully, coming forward to take the other woman’s hand and squeeze it.

  Leona winced a little as she withdrew her hand from Miranda’s. “Lady Ravenscar.”

  Miranda turned toward Rachel and her mother-in-law, greeting them pleasantly. “I am so glad you were able to entertain Lady Vesey until I got here. Please, sit down, Lady Vesey. Miss Vesey.” She took the older woman’s arm and guided her to a chair. “It is so pleasant when one’s neighbors come to visit. I confess I had expected more people to call, but then I realized that no one wished to disturb us—our newlywed state, you know.” She smiled in a secretive, self-satisfied way, doing her best to blush a little.

  Leona’s eyes narrowed. “Yes. Of course. I am so glad that you are settling in at Darkwater.”

  “Thank you. It has been most pleasant. Of course, so much of one’s happiness depends upon one’s husband. Don’t you find that is true, Lady Vesey? Fortunately, Devin is the best of husbands.”

  “Indeed.” Leona smiled faintly. “I confess,” she said, amusement tingeing her voice, “that I had never really pictured Devin as a married man. He was always so…how shall I say it? Carefree.”

  “Yes, and such an attractive man,” Miranda agreed, looking at Leona with wide, innocent eyes. “I am quite sure that many women were devastated when Devin entered the married state.”

  “No doubt.” Leona glanced around. “Where is Devin, by the way? Surely the man hasn’t gone out and left his bride alone so soon.”

  Rachel’s eyes flared with anger, but she managed to hold on to her temper and kept her mouth shut.

  “He is out painting,” Miranda said.

  “Painting!” Leona’s brows rose, and she let out a tinkling little laugh. “Oh, my, is he doing that again? I thought he had grown bored with dabbling in paints.”

  “He had seemed to get off track for a few years, but he is painting furiously now.”

  “You poor dear,” Leona said in a condescending way. “It must be awful for you to have your new husband away all the time indulging himself.”

  “I don’t mind.”

  “Really? How liberal-minded of you not to care. I really cannot imagine why Devin started again—of course, I suppose it does offer an escape, of sorts.” Her tone was honeyed, but the look she sent Miranda was significant.

  “Obviously you must not know Devin well, then,” Miranda said with such a sweet voice and innocent look that Rachel had to cover her mouth to suppress a giggle. “He is a very good artist. I would not be surprised if one day he is famous the world over.”

  Leona cast a suspicious look at her hostess, as if she could not decide whether she was being teased.

  “Perhaps you would like to see some of his sketches,” Rachel put in. “He has done any number of likenesses of Miranda.”

  Leona’s jaw clenched. “Oh, no, I wouldn’t put you out to get them.”

  “It’s no bother,” Miranda assured her, popping up. “I am sure Devin would not mind our going up to his studio to view them.”

  She went to Leona and put her hand under her arm, urging her up. Leona stood a little uncertainly, and Miranda linked her arm through Leona’s. “Rachel? Lady Ravenscar?”

  Lady Ravenscar’s eyes glittered wickedly. “Why, yes, I do think I would like to see this.”

  Leona could scarcely get out of it now, and the three Aincourt women swept her up to the floor above and down the hall to Devin’s studio. Leona stepped inside and came to a dead halt. Her eyes widened as they went about the room. A half-finished portrait of Miranda stood on an easel in the center of the room. Two more finished ones, one large and one small, were propped against the wall. A half-dozen sketches of her in charcoal were scattered across a table, and two watercolor sketches of her were lying on the floor to dry.

  Leona’s eyes grew bigger and bigger and her face paler until Miranda thought that she might faint. “Are you all right, Lady Vesey?” she asked solicitously.

  Lady Ravenscar watched Leona intently, a faint smile touching her mouth, and Rachel unabashedly smiled.

  “Yes. Fine.” Leona spoke through clenched teeth, pulling her arm sharply away from Miranda’s. “Dev has certainly been busy, hasn’t he?”

  “Yes. He has rediscovered his old love,” Miranda said contentedly. “I am sure he regrets ever having given it up.”

  Leona offered her a brittle smile and left the room abruptly, leaving the other women to follow her. Rachel glanced at Miranda and grinned.

  By the time they rejoined Lady Vesey, she had recovered her pleasant demeanor, although Miranda, walking beside her down the stairs, could feel the tension radiating from her.

  “So now Dev has gone on to other objects to paint?” she asked Miranda.

  “Yes, the rest of the day. I can only pose for an hour or two a day. It gets rather tiring.”

  Leona’s grin was a baring of teeth. “No doubt. And where is he sketching today?”

  Lady Ravenscar, on the other side of Miranda, made a noise, but Miranda ignored her. Looking straight at Leona, a challenging light in her eyes, she said, “The ruins of the abbey. It is a very scenic spot.”

  “Yes. Of course.”

  Leona left as soon as they got back to the drawing room, practically pulling Vesey’s elderly aunt from her chair and out the door. Miranda felt sure that she would divest herself of the aunt in record time and would soon be riding from Vesey Park to the abbey.

  Almost as soon as Leona left, Miranda excused herself to go check on her stepmother. She walked out of the room, humming under her breath.

  Lady Ravenscar looked at her daughter, a smile as broad as she ever allowed herself curving her lips. “I must say, Rachel, that was a splendid suggestion, going to look at Devin’s pictures. I had no idea he had done such a number of Miranda.”

  “I did.” Rachel smiled like the cat that had got into the cream.

  “Very clever of you. I do wish, though, that Miranda had not told her where he was painting today. You know the witch is certain to go over there.”

  “Somehow,” Rachel commented confidently, “I have a suspicion that our Miranda knew exactly what she was doing.”

  Miranda was not as confident as she had acted in front of Leona. The truth was, she had her doubts as to what Devin would do if Leona showed up at the abbey today. She knew she had taken a gamble by telling Leona where Dev was, but she needed to know what Dev would do. She had to let it play out, no matter what the consequences.

  Lady Vesey’s visit had raised her spirits, though. Miranda had not known for certain that Devin had not gone to visit Leona at Vesey Park since their marriage, although from the amount of time he had spent on his painting, she did not see how he could have managed it. But the fact that Leona had come here, transparently hoping to seek him out, ind
icated to Miranda that he had not seen his former mistress at all. Such a lack of interest was heartening, even if it did stem more from his new passion for his art than passion for herself.

  She went up to her stepmother’s room to check on her, as she had told the others. She met a maid slipping quietly out the door just as she approached.

  “Oh!” The maid stopped abruptly when she saw Miranda and bobbed her a curtsey. “My lady.”

  “Is Mrs. Upshaw sleeping?” Miranda asked. Her stepmother had not looked well when she left her earlier, as well as having been acting very strangely. Miranda was a trifle worried about her.

  “Not yet, ma’am. I think she is about to fall sleep now, though. She felt terrible sick when she came upstairs, ma’am. Her whole breakfast came back up, it did.”

  “Oh, dear.” Miranda went past the girl into Elizabeth’s room.

  Elizabeth was in bed, her face rather gray against the pristine white of the pillow, her eyelids closed. They fluttered open when Miranda came to her bedside, and Elizabeth regarded her groggily.

  “Miranda…”

  “I heard you had a rather bad time of it,” Miranda said, taking her hand and squeezing it. Her stepmother’s skin was cool.

  “Yes, it was an awful mess,” Elizabeth murmured, stumbling over her words. “So silly—I didn’t feel ill earlier this morning. But suddenly, just as I came into my room…” She shuddered.

  “Perhaps now you will feel better,” Miranda told her reassuringly. “I am sure if you take a nap, it will help.”

  “Yes. I can hardly keep my eyes open. I hope I will be able to sleep. I don’t think there is anything left to come up.”

  Miranda patted her hand and sat down on the side of the bed. Elizabeth turned on her side, smiling faintly, and curled her fingers around Miranda’s. She soon slipped into sleep.

  Miranda looked down at her stepmother, a small frown on her forehead. She did not typically worry overmuch about Elizabeth’s illnesses; she was always in the throes of some complaint or other, and they were usually brief and not very severe. Elizabeth certainly looked ill today, however.