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 mishmash 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. "If 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 displaying 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.