A Proper Wife

But the most incredible part of the experience was watching the tangle of emotions pass across Devon’s face. Recognition first, and then disbelief. Then shock. And finally, horror.

Whatever she had expected to find in this house tonight, he had to be her worst nightmare

come true.

But she couldn’t be any more stunned than he was. Devon Franklin, sitting by the fireside with an embroidery hoop in her lap? Chatting politely with the other ladies of the sewing circle before returning home to cook her husband’s dinner?

Ryan almost laughed. It was easier to imagine Jack the Ripper hired to carve roasts at a dinner party.

But it was easy to see why James had been fooled. The girl was a chameleon. She could take on whatever coloration she needed. At Montano’s, she’d been the portrait of sexy sophistication: blond hair loose and flowing, eyes ringed with kohl, long legs flashing seductively beneath the ankle-length, velvet cape.

Tonight she looked as chaste as a nun ready to take her vows. Her silky hair was bundled back into a loose knot, her face was scrubbed free of makeup, and her delectable body and long legs were hidden beneath a gray wool dress that hung to midcalf.

And yet, if anything, she was more beautiful than before.

Ryan’s eyes narrowed. Her beauty didn’t change reality. She was a woman who had learned she could get whatever she wanted by trading on her looks. It was no accident that she should turn up for a visit with an old man, pretending to be Miss Innocence.

The whole pathetic scheme was obvious. Devon Franklin had created herself to suit his grandfather’s tastes. James was not just an old man, he was an old-fashioned one nearing the end of his life, he had lots of money and only one heir.

Bettina and her daughter had seen a golden opportunity and moved on it.

A surge of anger roiled Ryan’s blood. It was not only a ridiculous scam, it was a cruel one to try and pull on a frail old man. Neither woman had thought, if they’d thought at all, that the old man’s grandson could stop them.

And Devon, he thought grimly, had not thought about him at all.

He started forward, his eyes fixed to hers, relishing the look of dread that would soon replace the horror in her face....

“Ryan!”

Bettina’s squeal of delight shattered the silence. She hurtled past Devon and threw herself at him, rising off her toes as she wrapped her arms around his neck.

“Oh, Ryan, how wonderful! I hoped you might be here tonight! How lovely to see you again after so many years.”

Ryan clasped Bettina’s forearms and set her on her feet.

“Hello, Bettina.” He smiled tightly as he took in the flushed, artfully made-up face, the hennaed curls, the lush body verging on ripeness. “It has been a long time, hasn’t it? But I can see you haven’t changed at all.”

Bettina giggled. “It’s sweet of you to say so.” Her hand went to her hair; she patted it into place as she looked at James. “Hello, Grandfather Kincaid. You’re looking well.”

“I’m still breathing, if that’s what you mean.”

Bettina giggled again. “Such a charming sense of humor,” she said gaily. She swung around and held her hand out to her daughter. “Come and give your grandpa a kiss, darling.”

Ryan watched with grim pleasure as the girl took a minute to pull herself together. Then she squared her shoulders and stepped into the center of the room.

Did she think she could bluff it out?

“Good evening, Mr. Kincaid,” she said. Her voice was softer than Ryan remembered it, but then, it would have to be, to suit the role she was playing. “Thank you for inviting us this evening.”

“Nonsense, darling.” Bettina’s smile was as bright as neon. “There’s no need to be so formal with your grandfather.”

Ryan saw something flash in the girl’s eyes. “He isn’t my grandfather, Mother.”

“Why, Devon. Don’t be so silly. Of course he is.”

“Mother...”

Devon’s voice was low but there seemed to be a thread of warning in it. Ryan’s eyes narrowed. The game was getting interesting.