Read Online So Wild a Heart by Candace Camp - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Candace Camp
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dependent, clinging female that her stepmother was, she wanted to experience that same sort of firm, long-standing feeling.
She wanted her eyes to shine every time she saw her husband the way that her father's did whenever Elizabeth came into the room. She wanted to miss him when he was away and greet him with unfeigned delight when he returned, the way she had seen Elizabeth do with her father. Otherwise, what use was marriage? She could do very well on her own without a husband. She was used to taking care of things herself, and she had an ample fortune. She did not need to marry the way most women did, and she certainly did not feel, as Lady Westhampton had said about herself, that she must marry out of duty to her family. She might want to please her father, but it would not harm him or the Upshaw name if she did not.
She had told herself that she was being uncharacteristically foolish about the matter of the man she had rescued last night, and so, after picking her way through her breakfast, she had decided to spend the remainder of the day doing something useful—as well as something that usually kept her thoroughly engrossed. So she had pulled her hair back into a plain, no-nonsense bun and slipped into one of the older, much washed sacque dresses that she was accustomed to wearing when she did the accounts or wrote business letters. She was far too likely to get splotches and smudges of ink on her clothes when she worked to wear one of her nicer dresses. Then she had gone downstairs to the study, put on the small round spectacles that she wore when she did close work, and settled down to work with her father's assistant, Hiram Baldwin.
Much to her dismay, she had found that she could not seem to shake her mood. Worse, she could not get interested in the sheets of numbers that Hiram had laid out before her. Usually she and Hiram shared an abiding interest in financial dealings, but today his voice droned on unmercifully, and she found her attention wandering back to the events of the evening before. Time and again she had to pull her mind back and apply it to the business at hand.
It was something of a relief when the door opened early in the afternoon and her father bustled in, grinning from ear to ear. Miranda smiled back at him; it was difficult not to, when her father smiled like that. Besides, she was more than ready to have a legitimate reason to be distracted from her work.
"Hello, Papa," she greeted him. "You certainly look like the cat that ate the canary."
"Indeed?" Her father's grin grew even broader. "Well, I have every reason to be, my girl. I've been talking with a gentleman, and it seems he would like to pay his addresses to you. I told him I was amenable to it, of course."
"What?" Miranda jumped to her feet. "What are you talking about? What gentleman? Papa, what have you done? If you have found some other puffed-up nobleman to try to shackle me to, I swear I'll—"
"No, no," Joseph hastened to assure her. "It's no new gentleman. It's the same gentleman. Lord Ravenscar."
Miranda stared. "What? Here?" Her hand flew to her hair. She must look like a fright! Her hair was not arranged becomingly at all, and the dress she wore was so old and outmoded that she was embarrassed to be seen in it. "Papa! No! I can't—he mustn't."
"Pish-posh, girl," Joseph replied cheerfully. "I've already told him he could speak to you. Wouldn't be polite to send him packing now. Won't take but a minute." He turned and walked toward the door. "Come, Hiram, you and I had better leave the girl alone."
Hiram, with a single puzzled glance at Miranda, who was standing as if turned to stone, stuck his pen back into the inkwell and followed his employer out the door.
"No, wait!" Miranda hurried toward the door. She couldn't let Ravenscar see her like this! But she had not even reached the doorway when it was filled by a large, well-dressed gentleman.
Miranda's first thought was that she had been right. The man standing
She wanted her eyes to shine every time she saw her husband the way that her father's did whenever Elizabeth came into the room. She wanted to miss him when he was away and greet him with unfeigned delight when he returned, the way she had seen Elizabeth do with her father. Otherwise, what use was marriage? She could do very well on her own without a husband. She was used to taking care of things herself, and she had an ample fortune. She did not need to marry the way most women did, and she certainly did not feel, as Lady Westhampton had said about herself, that she must marry out of duty to her family. She might want to please her father, but it would not harm him or the Upshaw name if she did not.
She had told herself that she was being uncharacteristically foolish about the matter of the man she had rescued last night, and so, after picking her way through her breakfast, she had decided to spend the remainder of the day doing something useful—as well as something that usually kept her thoroughly engrossed. So she had pulled her hair back into a plain, no-nonsense bun and slipped into one of the older, much washed sacque dresses that she was accustomed to wearing when she did the accounts or wrote business letters. She was far too likely to get splotches and smudges of ink on her clothes when she worked to wear one of her nicer dresses. Then she had gone downstairs to the study, put on the small round spectacles that she wore when she did close work, and settled down to work with her father's assistant, Hiram Baldwin.
Much to her dismay, she had found that she could not seem to shake her mood. Worse, she could not get interested in the sheets of numbers that Hiram had laid out before her. Usually she and Hiram shared an abiding interest in financial dealings, but today his voice droned on unmercifully, and she found her attention wandering back to the events of the evening before. Time and again she had to pull her mind back and apply it to the business at hand.
It was something of a relief when the door opened early in the afternoon and her father bustled in, grinning from ear to ear. Miranda smiled back at him; it was difficult not to, when her father smiled like that. Besides, she was more than ready to have a legitimate reason to be distracted from her work.
"Hello, Papa," she greeted him. "You certainly look like the cat that ate the canary."
"Indeed?" Her father's grin grew even broader. "Well, I have every reason to be, my girl. I've been talking with a gentleman, and it seems he would like to pay his addresses to you. I told him I was amenable to it, of course."
"What?" Miranda jumped to her feet. "What are you talking about? What gentleman? Papa, what have you done? If you have found some other puffed-up nobleman to try to shackle me to, I swear I'll—"
"No, no," Joseph hastened to assure her. "It's no new gentleman. It's the same gentleman. Lord Ravenscar."
Miranda stared. "What? Here?" Her hand flew to her hair. She must look like a fright! Her hair was not arranged becomingly at all, and the dress she wore was so old and outmoded that she was embarrassed to be seen in it. "Papa! No! I can't—he mustn't."
"Pish-posh, girl," Joseph replied cheerfully. "I've already told him he could speak to you. Wouldn't be polite to send him packing now. Won't take but a minute." He turned and walked toward the door. "Come, Hiram, you and I had better leave the girl alone."
Hiram, with a single puzzled glance at Miranda, who was standing as if turned to stone, stuck his pen back into the inkwell and followed his employer out the door.
"No, wait!" Miranda hurried toward the door. She couldn't let Ravenscar see her like this! But she had not even reached the doorway when it was filled by a large, well-dressed gentleman.
Miranda's first thought was that she had been right. The man standing
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