A Devil Named DeVere (The Devil DeVere)(5)

His gaze of cobalt-blue met hers, and Diana's smile froze on her face, an unfamiliar and unsettling frisson of physical awareness sweeping over her as he took her in from head to toe in a swift, and by his show of strong white teeth, appreciative appraisal. For a woman who took pride in her self-possession, she was strangely discomposed when he raised her fingers to his lips, his thumb skillfully settling on the bare expanse of skin just above her glove, setting her pulse skittering.

"Baroness." The timbre of his voice, the curve of his lips, was fraught with meaning, sending a jolt of heat to a place low in her belly. He gave a shallow bow that set his gaze on a horizontal plane with her breasts and lingered there much longer than proper, his eyes flickering like a blue flame. Her nipples tightened, contracting against her layers of muslin and silk, sending a tiny tremor rippling over her. Without having uttered a word beyond her name, the portentous weight of an indecent proposition hung between them.

At once shocked and affronted, Diana withdrew her hand, dragged her gaze from his, and dipped into a perfect puddle of silk petticoats. "My Lord DeVere."

"So that's the way of it," he answered with a lift of a sardonic brow and a twitch of his sensuous lips before abruptly turning his attention back to Edward.

The way of it, indeed! Diana's frantically fluttering fan cooled her face and hid her pique. She commended herself in having quelled his lewd and insufferable pretensions, but still felt inexplicably let down in having been so summarily dismissed. In this one brief exchange, he had made her keenly aware of the unanswered ache deep inside. It had been so very long since any man had singled her out, let alone with a look of blatant desire. It was as if he had unlocked a door, a secret portal to a hidden place in her soul. It was both novel and terrifying, making her heart gallop and her body tremble. Quashing these unsettling emotions, she nevertheless found her gaze tracking DeVere's every movement as the viscount swept the frontage of the house in a grand gesture.

"So what think you of my new heap of rocks, Ned? The park abuts the racecourse, you know. It was the primary reason for my initial inquiry, although after I learned all of its infamous past, I knew I had to own it."

Annalee gazed up at the structure with a frown. "Infamous? Whatever do you mean?"

Lord DeVere laughed. "My predecessor was quite a nefarious character, but I will defer relating the entire sordid history until supper time. Your apartments are already prepared. Will your husband soon be joining us, Baroness?"

"For supper?" she asked.

"Do you expect him by that time?"

Diana shook her head in confusion. "But what do you mean? He should have arrived here days ago. With the groom and horses. Do you mean to say—"

"Your horses are safely stabled here, and a magnificent pair they are. Your husband, however—"

"You have not seen him?"

"A number of fellows arrived with your horses but then departed. I was not made aware that your husband was among them. If so, I was denied both the privilege of an introduction as well as that of serving as a proper host."

"'Tis most peculiar he did not make himself known to you." A lump of unease began forming in the pit of Diana's stomach. "I can only hope nothing untoward has occurred."

"Perhaps Hew can enlighten us," said DeVere.

Diana pursed her lips. "Hew?"

"My younger brother. He has been overseeing the preparations for the races and surely will have spoken with all who arrived."

"Your brother is down from Oxford, then?" Edward asked.

"Just so. He would never miss a racing weekend if he could help it. He's a veritable centaur, you know, and it will be a battle to get him to return to his studies. He has little inclination in that direction to begin with and has been begging me to purchase him colors. Though I've tried most strenuously to dissuade him, he is hell-bent to join the Seventeenth Light Dragoons."

"'Tis a noble ambition, but none can deny the war is going badly," Edward mused.

"Precisely. He's my heir and all the family I have left. Perhaps you can talk sense into him, Ned. He has little respect for my judgment."

"Your own fault, Vic. You know you've done bloody little to cultivate it."

"All too true. Yet, it's truly a marvel how immune my little brother has been to my dedicated and dissolute example." DeVere smirked. "I have great fear he will be his own man after all."

"I certainly look forward to seeing him again," Edward said.

"You shall, anon. I will send for him. Or even better, why don't you and I take a brief tour of the stables? We are sure to find him there." DeVere turned back to Diana and Annalee. "Why don't you ladies allow my footman to escort you to your chambers?" A servant appeared at a mere inclination of DeVere's head. "I promise, Baroness, your mystery will be resolved by supper time."

Diana smiled. "You are too kind, my lord."

He gave a nod with a subtle curve of his lips, and then his glazed flicked to Annalee. "By the by, a mutual acquaintance will be joining us as hostess this evening. Unexpected but fortuitous, as our pairs are somewhat uneven. Perhaps you remember her? It is Her Grace, Caroline, Duchess of Beauclerc."

Annalee scowled. "Caroline? You mean Caroline Capheaton? The one who—"