“Devin and I have a plan, that doesn’t have to change. We’ll just move faster than Rachel anticipated. Captain Blair can just have the Watchmen ready sooner. Tonight.” At present, Devin would have followed her into an active volcano, she had but to ask.
“No,” Lady Wilde interjected, pushing through the furniture, her dress sweeping delicate decorations to the floor leaving a wake of broken trinkets, until her daughter was forced to look at her. “You are staying where you’re safe. I’m not having both my girls lost in the city.”
Miranda took a deep breath and then hugged her mother. When she pulled away, she said, “You’re going to have to physically restrain me if you mean to stop me.”
“I…Miri, it is much too dangerous and…”
“And what have I been training for? I’m not helpless. Cordeliais. I can get her back. I already had a plan to stop Graves, now I’ll just make sure that I get Cordelia first. All I have to do is get the Watchmen’s attention and I’ll have all the backup I could need.”
Devin stayed quiet, still not sure of his place. He knew where he wanted to be, beside Miranda.
Always.
Forever.
He was prepared to follow her down any foolhardy path, to stand beside her as she charged headfirst into trouble and to give whatever he had to offer if she faltered or got in over her head. If she allowed him to follow her. While there was still a whisper in his mind urging him not to trust her, it grew weaker every time she took his hand or smiledbecauseof him or included him. But he was still hesitant to push into family matters. Her mother had a right to fear for her daughter, and Miranda did not need his help if her mind was set.
“Fine,” Lady Wilde said, “Then I am going with you. James, you go down to the Watchmen headquarters and inform whoever is in charge of this…scheme our daughter has devised, knows the plans have changed. You make sure that whoever they are, they’re organized and ready, or I will see to it they never work in polite society again.” Lady Wilde went to the door, smoothing her hand over her dress, her eyes red and her cheeks still flushed. “I’m going to change. Hopefully…” She squared her shoulders, holding herself to her full height. “Hopefully, my uniform still fits.”
Lord Wilde rounded on Miranda, his eyes slipping toward Devin. “I’ll wait with you until your mother returns.”
Miranda blushed, not meeting her father’s eyes and Devin cringed. If her father had doubts about their relationship, his daughter blushing as she looked at him was proof enough.
“Lord Drake, you will give me a moment with my daughter.”
It wasn’t a negotiation, but still Devin looked to Miranda for the okay before leaving. The door slammed behind him and he sighed into the too large, too empty foyer.
Her home was just as grand and stately as Devin’s late father. Ornate and decorated. Family heirlooms and the lingering presence of generations tucked into corners and the more intricate details. His eyes swept up the grand staircase, wondering which direction would lead to Miranda’s room.
It was a better fantasy than reflecting on their conversation. He could imagine Lord Wilde was not happy about Devin’s role in his daughter’s recent streak of rebellion. Logically, he knew that any father would be angry, but there was still a voice that wondered how much of his objection was for what she had done as opposed to who she had done it with.
Enough. She has given you no reason to doubt her.
Shehadpushed him away when Alderman North had asked who he was.
But there were plenty of valid reasons she might have done that, and none of them had to include her being ashamed of him. Had she not just openly ignored her own parents to include him? Or was she just worked up and acting on impulses she might regret later?
He sighed again, loudly. It echoed throughout the foyer.
Why couldn’t he just…be happy? A good thingfinallyshows up at his door—doesn’t even knock, but kicks it in and demands his acceptance, refuses to leave even when it is the only sensible course—and yet he was still trying to reason away her interest and overanalyze any hint of doubt.
The absence of some red line of fate in her aura could mean anything. Perhaps it only appeared after marriage or perhaps he and Miranda were too uncertain of the future. It had barely been two weeks since he met her, for Divine’s sake.
If he died alone and miserable, he would have only himself to blame.
He stopped in front of a portrait of the current Lord and Lady Wilde with their family. It had to have been many years ago, as Miranda and her sister were still children, Miranda barely taller than her father’s waist. What if this was what Miranda wanted from him? A portrait with children hanging in their home? Marriage?
All his life, he never gave a thought to marriage one way or the other. It just wasn’t something that would ever figure into the sort of life he planned to live. He had no desire for the lasting attachment and sentiment necessary to say ‘I do’ and he actively pushed away anyone who ever tried to get close to him.
Why would he invite more of his tainted lineage into the world? What kind of father sired children doomed to hardship? Even if attitudes were changing, the damage was done. The fear was part of him, as much as the hope. His maternal grandparents were still alive somewhere, not willing to acknowledge his existence.
He stared at the painting, trying to fit himself into the scene.
It wasn’t possible. No stretch of the imagination could make Devin the father in that painting.
He turned away, rubbing his face in his hands. He would follow Miranda into danger, but could he follow her into vows, if she asked?
Would she ask?
