Page 33 of So Wild A Heart

Devin let out a pitiful moan. “No, please, I beg of you, no more description. I am sure that the cook would leave me if called upon to make such a concoction. Simmons, fetch the coffee. I shall deal with Miss Upshaw.”

Devin rose to his feet, using the desk as a brace, and faced Miranda. He smoothed back his hair and unrolled his shirtsleeves, only then realizing that he was without coat or even waistcoat, both of which he had thrown over one of the chairs early this morning. His ascot was with them, leaving him in a thoroughly disheveled and improper state—shirttails out, the top button undone—to be receiving a visitor, much less a female one.

“Miss Upshaw, I am afraid this is highly improper,” he began. “I don’t know what you do in America, but in London, a lady simply does not enter a bachelor’s quarters unescorted, unless she is a rel—” His voice died as his eyes fell on the pile of wadded-up papers beside the wastebin. Hastily, he kicked a number of them under his desk.

“It would be improper in the United States, as well, Lord Ravenscar,” Miranda assured him, her eyes following his to the balls of paper in and around the trash can. The nervous, almost guilty look on his face intrigued her, and she wondered what the papers contained. “However, I had something I needed to talk to you about, and I saw no sense in sitting around hoping you would show up at my doorstep again, or that I would run into you at the opera or the theater or some party.”

“You could have sent me a note requesting me to call on you.”

“And you would have come?” Miranda quirked one eyebrow in disbelief. “Anyway, I dislike waiting. I like to take charge of my own destiny, not put it in the hands of others. So I decided to call on you myself. I suspect it is a trifle early in the day for you, since it is only half-past noon, but I wanted to be sure to catch you before you left.”

“Left? For where?”

“I don’t know. Anywhere. Left for the day, I mean. Really, my lord, are you sure you don’t want me to pop into the kitchen and make you that remedy? You do seem to be having some difficulty keeping up with the conversation.”

Devin regarded her balefully.

Miranda gazed back at him, never changing her pleasant expression. The man looked like hell, she thought. It was almost enough to make one change one’s mind. But Miranda was not the sort who changed her mind easily. Once she had made a decision, as she had this morning after a nearly sleepless night of thinking about it, she was not likely to second-guess it. She was confident and ready to go forward. That was why she had decided to go directly to the Earl’s house and get the thing started.

She knew what she wanted, and why. The only problem now was bringing it about. But Miranda was confident that she would be able to turn Ravenscar around.

“Miss Upshaw, let me be as blunt as you seem to like to be.”

“Please do.”

“What are you doing here?”

“That is quite simple. I have come to tell you that I have decided to accept your proposal. I will marry you.”

Devin said nothing. He simply stood there staring at her. It occurred to him that perhaps his ears were playing tricks on him. He had, after all, had a great deal to drink the night before.

“I beg your pardon?”

“I said that I have changed my mind about marrying you. I accept your proposal.”

“You can’t do that,” he protested. “I told you, I wouldn’t marry you even if it would save me from debtors’ prison.”

“You offered for me.”

“You refused my offer.”

“A woman has the prerogative of changing her mind,” Miranda pointed out. “Besides, you can’t take back your offer. It would be ungentlemanly in the extreme.”

“No, no, no,” Devin said, coming around the desk toward her. “One offer, one chance. That’s it. You refuse, and the offer is gone.”

The butler reentered the room at that moment and almost backed out again after one glance at the wild look on his employer’s face. But Miranda stopped him with a look and a gesture.

“Ah, the coffee. Set it on the desk, Simmons. Would you like for me to pour?”

“No!” Devin fixed the butler with a glare. “Put the tray on the table by the couch, Simmons. I’ll pour.”

“Yes, my lord.” Simmons quickly did as Devin directed and beat a hasty retreat, skillfully managing to leave the door open a crack when he closed it.

Miranda followed him to the door and closed it. Devin turned to the table and poured himself a cup of hot coffee. Miranda seized the opportunity to walk softly to his desk and reach under it with one toe, nudging out one of the balls of paper that Devin had been at such pains to hide. While his back was turned, she reached down quickly and picked it up, stuffing it into her pocket. When he turned back around, she was regarding him placidly, her hands folded together in front of her.

“May I offer you a cup of coffee, Miss Upshaw?”

“No, thank you. I am sure you will benefit from it far more than I.”