A Devil Named DeVere (The Devil DeVere)(13)

"A bloody fool and his money…" DeVere shrugged.

"But you know the poor devil never stood a chance amongst that company."

"Nevertheless, the weakest men doth the greatest fools make. In truth, I'm amazed such a fine specimen of womanhood married such a buffoon."

"In her defense, Reginald was hardly Diana's choice. He was some distant relation on her father's side, the marriage contrived purely to keep the lands in the family. Reggie's title even came to him by Diana, secured by a private act of parliament. Yet he has proven a sad husband, especially for such a fine woman as Diana."

"Yet she maintains fidelity?" DeVere asked with a feigned nonchalance.

"Don't even think it, my friend." Ned glowered. "She is Annalee's cousin, and I won't see her reputation besmirched."

"Come now, Ned. She is a woman grown, and I am the very soul of discretion."

"Is that why you presently flaunt your mistress before your friends?"

DeVere made an exasperated sound. "I didn't invite Caro. She just took it upon herself to come here, though it's probably my fault for not delivering her congé before I left London."

"You have no intentions in that quarter then?"

"Gad, no!" DeVere scoffed. "Marry the slut? She's little better than Mrs. Hayes' whores, albeit a loftier one. But since she's here, I'll avail myself of Caro...for now."

"Try as you may, you'll not debauch Diana, DeVere. She's a virtuous woman."

The corner of DeVere's lip kicked up. "Damn me if that doesn't sound like a challenge, Ned. Would you care to strike a wager on it?"

"I'm not about to let you seduce her. I'll see you hanged first."

"Who said anything about seduction? I swear to you I won't lay a hand on her...unless of course, she comes to me."

"You think Diana would come to your bed?" Ned threw his head back and laughed. "You're mad! First of all, she would never break her marriage vows. Secondly, she's certainly deduced by now what a whoremonger you are. She wouldn't touch you with gloves, my friend."

DeVere felt his interest growing. "Then it's a safe bet, is it not? Make it a gentleman's wager, twenty guineas."

"It's not about the money, and you know it. It's the damned principle of the thing. I refuse to wager on any woman's virtue. It's just not done—not by a gentleman," Ned rebuked.

"Have it your way, then," DeVere said with a blithe shrug. "But know this, Ned, if by some lucky turn of fortune, I should be offered the bounty of a certain Baroness, you may be certain I will not demur."

Suppressing a smile, DeVere considered what the papers secreted in his breast pocket might truly be worth.

***

Dressed scantily as she was, Diana hesitated at the door when she heard the low rumble of male voices within. Not in the habit of listening at keyholes, she would have returned to her chamber had not Reggie's name been clearly distinguishable.

"Ruined?" She stifled a gasp and almost dropped the candle that trembled in her hand. Three thousand guineas? Good God! She leaned against the wall to keep from slithering to the floor.

She considered making her presence known and openly confronting Edward and DeVere but knew that they would feel it necessary to hide or obscure the truth from her under the preposterous pretext of protecting her delicate, feminine sensibilities. Instead, she snuffed the candle and pressed as closely as she dared to the door. Still, she only caught frustrating snippets of the exchange.

"…amazed such a fine specimen of womanhood…such a buffoon…"

She found it strange that she took Edward's high regard for her in stride, yet DeVere's words of admiration stirred something deep within. She couldn't comprehend why—when he'd already shown himself a rake of the first order and a man with no respect for women—yet his interest almost made her forget the issue of Reggie's debt. She heard the clink of glass, and then the conversation was frustratingly muffled, as if they had turned their backs or moved further away.

They were now speaking of DeVere's odious mistress, a topic she had not the slightest interest in. She turned to leave, but her breathing arrested as her own name assailed her ears. It was Ned, and he was laughing.

"Diana come to your bed...whoremonger...wouldn't touch you with gloves..."

Diana's hand flew to her mouth at DeVere's unmitigated presumption. While she was certainly guilty of encouraging a harmless flirtation with him, the notion of joining ranks with such as Caroline Capheaton was beyond the pale. With her blood near the boiling point, she spun on her heel and returned to her room. It would be a cold day in hell before she ever allowed herself to be used by such a libertine.

But then again, it was precisely this illicit thought that took root in her subconscious as she returned to her chamber—what it would be like to know such a man as a lover, to give herself up to selfish, lascivious lust, to finally let loose the deep and relentless yearning after a lifetime of suppressed passion?

She recalled the hungry way his blue gaze had devoured her at their very first meeting, and the suggestion that had hung heavily in the air between them. She had thought herself dismissed as a potential lover until overhearing his profession of interest to Edward, a confession that inspired within her equal parts loathing and lust.