A Proper Wife

“Nonsense.” James’s tone was brusque. “It was the plain truth. Gordon’s actions were quite deliberate. He meant to cut you off without a cent, and he did.”

“We had a teeny misunderstanding, that’s all. He’d have changed his will again if he’d only had the chance. Gordon adored me. He’d never have wanted me penniless. And he’d certainly not have wanted me to give up the home we so happily shared together.”

“Perhaps,” James said, ignoring Ryan’s snort of disgust, “and perhaps not. The only thing I know for certain is that my grandson died before he could make provision for Devon.”

“For me?” Devon said, startled.

Bettina dug a sharp elbow into Devon’s ribs. “I’m not surprised to hear it. Whatever problems Gordon and I might have had,” she said, blithely changing tactics, “Gordon loved Devon as if she’d been his own child.”

Devon saw Ryan looking at Bettina as if he expected her nose to start growing like Pinocchio’s. It was hard to blame him. Her stepfather had seemed to be a decent man but she’d hardly known him. She’d spent her summers in camp, once Bettina had Gordon’s money to pay for it, and only come home for Christmas and Easter.

“Gordon wanted his little girl to have the best,” Bettina sighed, dabbing at her eyes with the hankie. “It would pain him terribly if he knew she was living in poverty.”

“Mother, I’m not-”

“Hush, Devon.” Bettina’s smile was sweet but her eyes snapped with warning. “Let Grandfather Kincaid finish what he was about to say.”

James cleared his throat. “It seems that one of my grandson’s last expressed desires was to see Devon properly cared for.”

Bettina beamed happily. “How nice.”

“In fact, Ryan and I were discussing that very topic when you arrived.”

“What topic?” Devon said. “You mean you were talking about me?”

James nodded. “Yes. We were formulating a plan for your future, weren’t we, Ryan?”

Ryan, who had almost forgotten James’s shocking “last request,” remembered it now and frowned.

“A nonsensical plan,” he said, “don’t you agree, Grandfather?”

James smiled. “Are you sure of that, my boy?”

“I damned well am! And you should be, too, now that you’ve been treated to this display of sweetness and charm!”

Devon put her hands on her hips and glared from one man to the other.

“What’s going on here? You can’t discuss me as if I weren’t even in the room!”

Ryan ignored her. “I would prefer we continue this discussion in private, Grandfather.”

James nodded. “I con

cur.”

“That’s it!” Devon’s chin tilted up at a proud angle. “I’ve had enough.”

“Devon,” Bettina whispered harshly, “don’t be a fool!”

“Goodnight, Mr. Kincaid. I’d thank you for your hospitality but I don’t really think there was any to thank you for. Mother, I’ll wait for you outside.”

Without a glance in Ryan’s direction, Devon strode past Bettina, never pausing until she reached the privacy of the musty foyer. There, she fell back against the wall and took a deep, sobbing breath.

What a horrible scene! The old man, watching her with those unblinking eyes; Bettina, spewing those phony tears and even phonier stories of familial bliss. And Ryan Kincaid, commenting on her as if she were a commodity. The louse. The arrogant, insensitive bastard—

She cried out in shock as a pair of hard, merciless hands fell on her shoulders.

“Just where in hell do you think you’re going?” Ryan snarled as he turned her toward him.