A Devil Named DeVere (The Devil DeVere)(20)

"What is it, Diana?" Annalee asked. "Surely you can tell me."

"Have you and Edward ever..." Diana fought the huge lump forming in her throat. The thought of sharing her humiliating secret made her feel ashamed and dirty.

"Go on," Annalee urged.

She licked her lips. Her eyes grew bleary. "Has Edward ever...has he ever used you...in a way that is...unnatural?"

Annalee threw both arms about her. "My God, Diana! What did that beast do to you?"

The question opened the floodgate of five years keeping. Annalee held her and stroked her hair as Diana choked out her story. "It was never good between us." She hiccupped. "When he came to me, it was never tender. It was never as a lover."





Chapter Seven


In the ostentatiously gilded library with its Italianate frescoed ceiling, DeVere lounged, his booted feet carelessly propped upon the burnished mahogany desk, studying his guest in a silent and scowling appraisal. DeVere noted the bloodshot eyes, the facial ruddiness, and slightly bloated features. Of medium height and slight build, the Baron Palmerston-Wriothesley might have appeared somewhat boyish from a distance, but in close quarters, he showed all the signs of deterioration from dissipation. Sizing the man up, DeVere found the sum total wanting.

Lord Reggie deserved to squirm like the worm he was. Indeed, far worse. What he truly merited was to be strung up by his bollocks.

"You wished a word with me, my lord?" Reggie finally prompted, the lengthy silence having achieving its purpose. "If it is an apology you seek for my...er...condition last evening." He gave an embarrassed laugh. "I'm sure you know how it is..."

"To be carried home stinking drunk?" DeVere made no effort to hide his scorn. "Not in a good many years. It is my observation, Lord Reginald, that if a man cannot hold his drink, it behooves him to abstain unless in the company of those he implicitly trusts."

"Lofty words from one whose own exploits in debauchery are legendary," Reggie snapped back. "I was lost in the heat of the moment. You are a notorious gamester. Surely you have found yourself in a similar predicament—"

DeVere raised a hand and gave the man a dangerous look. "Don't ever presume to compare yourself with me. I may play deep, but I have the means to do so. And when I lose, I pay the reckoning. A gentleman never shirks a debt of honor." He retrieved a handful of notes from his breast pocket and slammed them on the desk. "Your vowels, I believe?"

"How do you have these? And why?" Reggie's expression grew thunderous. "I credited O'Kelly with more discretion."

"How I came by them doesn't matter a whit," DeVere answered. "As to why? To save certain innocent people embarrassment. While you can go to the devil for all I care, I won't have others suffer on your behalf and certainly not while under my roof."

Reggie's gaze narrowed. "I told O'Kelly I would get the money. I sent notice to the banker—"

"And thus, you forfeited your estate, your sole means of livelihood to that blackguard? An estate that I understand only came to you by marriage? What manner of jackass are you?"

Reggie looked like he would explode but managed a tight-lipped reply. "I find myself in a bit of a tight spot at present, but all will be well after the races."

"And so you would place your entire future on a stupid four-legged creature?" DeVere rolled his eyes heavenward. "The fool's folly never ends!"

Reggie's fists were balled by his sides, his eyes glazed with fury. "If I win the race, my problems are resolved."

"And if you lose?" DeVere observed his guest's agitation with smug satisfaction. At times like these, wielding his power was a heady sensation.

"Then I suppose I shall have to appeal to you for some agreeable terms of repayment."

DeVere offered him an icy smile. "You take much for granted, sir. My generosity is not without bounds. We are not kinsmen. We are not even friends, and your debt has already increased by twelve percent, though O'Kelly surely would have charged you twenty, his reputation for usury exceeding that of the Westminster Jews. If you are not able to settle your debt with me by the end of the day tomorrow, the only terms I will accept will be your property." His lips curved at what remained unspoken. And that includes your wife.

***

Agitated and restless, Diana paced her room until she thought she would burst from anticipation. At half past three, while Annalee napped, she and Edward followed the same path she had taken that morning to the stables where two of DeVere's junior grooms met them with a pair of saddled horses.

"My lord ordered it so," the groom said. "The lady will have a much better view of the field astride."

"But what of my mare, Cartimandua?" she asked.

"My lord has already taken her to the down."

"His jockey, you mean?"

"No, my lady, his lordship hisself rides the mare."

"Does he?" After the groom assisted her to mount, Diana turned to Edward with skepticism. "I thought it was Hewett DeVere who was such a noted horseman."

Ned laughed. "Who do you think taught him? DeVere is the devil on horseback. Though he is sadly lacking in discipline, Ludovic is actually a man of many talents, Diana. When he applies himself to a thing, he's a formidable force. Thus it's fortunate for the world around him that his passions quickly fade."