So Wild a Heart. Candace Camp

among the highest of society; here, they seemed to be merely tolerated as something of an oddity. She found it distinctly peculiar that success in life counted for little compared to the name one carried. It was the same attitude that Ravenscar had held; the distaste and contempt at having to offer for a nobody from the former colonies had been apparent in his speech and manner. She supposed it was inevitable, having grown up among these people, that he should have turned out to be so arrogant.

      She had been here almost an hour by now, and it seemed even longer, given the stultifying conversations that she had had the misfortune to be a part of. If the man did not show up soon, she thought, she was going to go home early and settle down with a nice book. It would be bound to be more entertaining than this.

      At that moment, a deep voice spoke behind her and Rachel.

      “My dear sister,” Ravenscar began. “A successful crush, as always.”

      “Hello, Dev.” Miranda felt Rachel’s arm tense against hers, but she knew already who it was by the voice. It was the deep, wry tone of the man she had rescued, the faintest hint of amusement tingeing his voice, not the haughty drawl of the Ravenscar who had asked her to marry him.

      She turned as Rachel did to face him. “And who is thi—” He stumbled gratifyingly over his words as he took his first look at Miranda. She saw the widening of his eyes and the quick way they swept down her body and back up, and she knew that her dress and hair had had exactly the effect she had hoped for. “—this lovely lady,” he went on, smoothly covering the brief hitch in his words. “Ah, but I recognize you now, Miss Upshaw. It is a pleasure to see you again.”

      “It could scarcely be less of a pleasure than it was the last time we met,” Miranda replied in a voice equally smooth. “How do you do, Lord Ravenscar?”

      “Better now that I have seen you.” He turned slightly toward his sister. “Rachel, I must take your guest from you. You have been monopolizing her time far too long. There is a waltz about to start, Miss Upshaw. If you would do me the honor…?”

      He held out his hand, his eyes challenging in his handsome face. He knew that she would have liked to refuse him, but it would have been excessively rude, with his sister, the hostess of the party, standing right there beside them.

      “I have scarcely had a chance to chat with Lady Westhampton,” Miranda lied, making an attempt to get out of the invitation.

      But Rachel was too quick for her. “Oh, heavens, don’t consider me, Miss Upshaw. I have been neglecting my guests, I have so enjoyed speaking with you. Go ahead and dance with Dev. I can assure you, whatever his other faults, he is a divine dancer. You and I will have a chance to talk again later.”

      “Of course.” Miranda could do nothing now, with everyone watching them, except to give in gracefully.

      She took the arm he proffered and walked with him out onto the dance floor. They turned to face each other, and he took her hand in his, slipping the other lightly around her waist. She looked up at him, her heart beating faster than she would have liked. The man was undeniably handsome.

      He swung her onto the floor as the first notes of the waltz began, and for the next few moments they did not speak, only moved with the music, concentrating on adjusting their steps to each other. It was easy to dance with him, Miranda found. He was, as his sister had said, an excellent dancer—moving gracefully and leading her with the slightest of guidance, not shoving and jerking one about as some men were prone to do. After they had settled into the rhythm of the dance, Devin smiled down at her a trifle ironically.

      “Well, quite a transformation, I must say.”

      “Not so much so—if one bothers to look beneath the surface of things.”

      “Ah, a direct hit, Miss Upshaw. You have me there. I was careless the other day.”

      “You were rude,” Miranda corrected him crisply. “Arrogant and rude and thoroughly dislikable.”

      “Yes. I confess I was all that. And after you had come to my rescue the night before. It was very boorish of me.”

      His ready admission of his lack of manners took Miranda by surprise. She had expected him to argue, or deny her statement—or perhaps simply ignore it. She was unprepared for him to agree with her. It left her, she found, with little to say.

      He smiled at her expression. “You see, at least I am honest. You can give me credit for that.”

      “That counts for something, I suppose…. A very small something.”

      “At least I have something to build on, then. Perhaps I can make up for my lack of manners the other day.”

      “I am not sure if that is possible. One would always know, you see, that your polished manners were merely a facade, and behind them lay the same fellow who behaved so badly.”

      “No excuse will do, then? No apology suffice? Is there to be no allowance for improving oneself?”

      “Improving oneself is a good thing, as long as it is real.”

      “You obviously doubt my ability to do so…or my veracity.”

      “I do not really know you well enough to say, Lord Ravenscar. The situations in which I have seen you…”