A Most Unusual Match by Sara Mitchell

through Devlin. Confound it, was it too much to ask, a half hour of his own, without tripping over some—
    The figure turned slightly and he stopped dead, his disbelieving gaze on the profile of the face that had haunted his dreams for weeks now.
    Dev set the umbrella aside, a dangerous sense of jubilation coursing through his veins. “Seems I’m not the only one who enjoys a good rain. We seem to have cultivated a habit for unexpected meetings, Miss Lang.”
    Slowly she rose to face him. Hatless and gloveless, today she wore a narrow pin-striped shirtwaist and plain navy skirt, which gave her the look of a schoolteacher as opposed to a well-turned-out heiress. “If I’d known in time it was you beneath the umbrella, I would have left before you saw me,” she said.
    Not a chance, Devlin thought, though he nodded agreeably. “I experienced a similar reaction when I realized the gazebo was occupied. Since the rain’s picking up anyway, we may as well allow ourselves to enjoy a bit of natural drama, together. Is that what you came out here to do? Enjoy the rain?”
    A shawl was draped over the back of her chair; averting her gaze, Miss Lang wrapped it around her shoulders. “I suppose you think I’m even more of a peculiar sort of female than you already did, for seeking an isolated spot outside in the middle of a rainstorm.”
    â€œNo more peculiar than a man after the same thing.” He sensed her wariness and arranged a pair of the spindle-backed chairs where he could not only watch Miss Langbut prevent her from bolting across the ramp. “Mrs. Chudd’s warm and dry in her room, I take it?” A wisp of a reciprocal smile fluttered before she nodded. “Good.” He rubbed his palms together. “Then there’s no reason we can’t make the most of our opportunity to share what we’ve been up to this past week.”
    Between droning raindrops, turgid silence fell until Devlin plowed ahead. “I’ve only caught a glimpse of you once, outside a tearoom with several other ladies.” And experienced far too much relief, because for the past several days he’d been shadowing Edgar Fane in an exhausting round of shopping, dining, solitary painting expeditions and noisy group excursions to every tourist attraction within ten miles. Not once had Miss Lang been part of his entourage.
    â€œI didn’t think you’d care to associate with a woman who makes a public fool of herself,” she finally murmured.
    â€œOh, I don’t know. I’ve seen a quite a bit of foolery over the years. Perhaps you don’t care to associate with a man who’s witnessed human behavior at its worst, and too often been unable to correct it?”
    â€œWell, when you put it like that.” Solemn-faced, she sat back down. “Your phrasing is intriguing. You sound like either a preacher or a policeman.”
    Fortunately a lifetime around horses and several years as a Secret Service operative had taught him not to betray strong emotion, particularly anger, fear—or surprise. “An intriguing analysis. Well, despite the unpleasant price you paid later, you were pretty entertaining the other day, there by the lake.” He twitched a chair around and straddled it, propping his forearms over the back. “Was it worth being sick in the bushes? Did you receive your invitation?”
    â€œYes.” A fleeting sideways glance. “Dinner at theCasino. I was offered, like bait to a bear, to a table full of his acquaintances.”
    Rage prickled his careful equanimity. “I’m sorry. Are you all right? Did the vertigo—”
    â€œThey made me angry. I didn’t have a spell. The anger might have helped, but I’ve thought about it a lot ever since, and I think there’s a more practical solution.”
    â€œAnd that is?” he asked when she seemed hesitant to continue.
    â€œWhen you were a child, were you