A Devil Named DeVere (The Devil DeVere)(16)

Diana paced the room, wringing her hands. "You think he has a mistress, don't you? I have suspected as much myself."

"Perhaps there is another reasonable explanation," Annalee suggested.

"I can't imagine what it could be, and to be truthful, I don't miss his attentions in the least. He can bed every woman in England for all I care," Diana replied dispassionately. "But the estate—he had no right to do what he's done."

"But what can you do?" Annalee asked.

"There's only one thing, and I would have done it long ago but for my pride and fear of social ostracism."

Annalee gasped. "You don't mean to petition for a divorce?"

"Not quite," Diana said. "I have no proof of adultery and therefore, no legal grounds for divorce. However, given the circumstances, I think I should be able to at least achieve a legal separation. It is the only way I can become free of him. Is it not, Edward?"

Edward looked pensive. "Are you quite sure about this, Diana? Although I can't blame your desire to take such steps given the present situation, you are not mistaken about becoming a pariah."

"As long as I can count on the both of you, I have no need of anyone else," she declared.

"But of course we would stand by you. Always, dearest," said Annalee.

"But as a woman, you have no property rights. If granted a legal separation, he will get everything."

"But what if nothing remains to begin with?" Diana laughed bitterly.

"Then how do you propose to live?" he asked.

"I know what I must do, Edward. As ironic as it seems, the race appears my best hope of recovery."

Edward made an exasperated sound. "You mean to throw good money after bad? What if you lose?"

Annalee gave her husband a reproachful look. "Diana is always welcome in our home."

Diana laughed. "Never you worry, Edward. I shan't allow myself to be foisted upon you as a dependent relation. I'll surely contrive some other way."

Edward looked dubious.

"How can we help you?" Annalee asked.

"If I'm going to run Cartimandua, I have need of two things—the entry fee and a jockey."

"You are aware that the entry fee is two hundred fifty pounds?" he asked.

Diana fingered the strand of pearls at her neck. "I was hoping you could make me a loan against these."

Edward gave her an apologetic look. "I'm so sorry, my dear, but I just don't have that much available to me at such short notice. Had I only a day to send to London..."

"There's no time." Her spirits plummeted. "The race is tomorrow."

"Then I'll speak to DeVere," Edward said. "I'll ask him for a personal loan. He need never know what it is for."

"No," Diana protested. "I won't presume on your friendship like that. If anyone must go to DeVere, let it be me."

Edward colored. "I don't know if that is the wisest course, Diana. Although he's my closest friend, he's not to be trusted where women are concerned."

"What I propose is a simple business transaction," she argued.

"Simple?" Edward laughed. "That's where you are wrong my dear. Nothing is ever simple with DeVere. I fear any transaction made with him will be much more than you bargained for."

"I thank you for the word of warning, dear Edward, but rest assured, I am not susceptible to such men. DeVere may accept or decline my proposal as he wishes."

***

Diana didn't have to wait long for an answer to her message. Within an hour of DeVere's return, he sent word via a footman for her to meet him in his private withdrawing room. She was surprised to find him waiting for her, looking like he had just finished his toilette. His black hair was damp and hung loosely about his shoulders. He was informally clothed in a dressing gown over his smallclothes and devoid of cravat over his fine lawn shirt. Diana struggled to pull her gaze from the strong column of his neck, a sight that seemed almost illicit in its visual appeal. His state of casual undress made her oddly uncomfortable, as if he implied they were on terms of some intimacy, rather than near-strangers.

DeVere swept her an almost-mocking bow.

"A thousand pardons for interrupting you," Diana said. "But I have a personal matter that Edward felt you might be inclined to assist with."

He replied with his sardonic smile. "And you have come to me? How extraordinary. Whatever it might be, you may consider me at your disposal."

"While I appreciate your graciousness, my lord, I would never accept such a blank check from anyone."

He inclined his head to a velvet-covered settee. "Then pray tell me what I can do for you." He waited for her to settle her skirts and then joined her, draping an arm casually over the back. Diana shifted forward on the seat, all too aware of the tantalizing and unsettling fusion of sandalwood shaving soap and musky male. His proximity and scent were a combined assault that jangled her nerves and made her breath quicken. Diana fussed with a fold in her skirts, not daring to meet his gaze straight-on for fear he might be able to read her lustful thoughts.

"It concerns the races tomorrow." She glanced up to find DeVere studying her with an inscrutable expression. "I wish to make a late entry."