A Devil Named DeVere (The Devil DeVere)(56)

Hew raised a brow. "Rough night?"

"The usual," Ludovic answered noncommittally.

"You know, you're slowly killing yourself with this life you lead."

"I'm hardly in a humor for homilies."

"I just hate to see it," Hew protested. "You are a man of considerable parts and still in the prime of life. A man of your station with your talents could do so much good, and yet you choose to waste it all on self-indulgence...indeed, on self-destruction."

"How I live is no one's concern but my own," Ludovic snapped. "Besides, I did not summon you to talk about me. I wish to know your intentions toward Vesta."

"Vesta?" Hew bridled. "That is a matter between me and her father. What right have you to ask?"

"As her godfather, I am placing myself in her father's stead."

"Really? That's a convenient shift." Hew scoffed. "I hardly think Ned would have condoned her recent activities or your complicity in them. You encouraged her to entrap me by imposing a compromising situation when you knew damned well I had no interest in that quarter. I could not have stated it more clearly—" Hew's jaw dropped at the sight of Vesta in the doorway.

Her face went deathly pale before their eyes. "I h-had come to greet my g-godfather...to share our happy news," she stammered.

Hew rose and strode toward her, his features contorted with a tortured expression, and then stopped. "Vesta, my love." He raised his hands plaintively. "What you heard... It's not what you think—"

Though her lips quivered, Vesta elevated her chin to meet his gaze. "I told you, Hew, that I would never have a man who didn't love me. So I gladly relieve you of your loathsome obligation." She turned to Ludovic with surprising calm. "Godfather, I have returned your yacht, and I thank you for your generosity, but it seems I shall have no further need of your assistance as I will be returning to Yorkshire with all dispatch." With a swish of skirts, she disappeared.

Hew raked his hair with an anguished cry. "Bloody hell! Look what you've done!"

"What I've done?" Ludovic repeated.

"Yes! Devil take you! She now thinks I don't want her!"

"But you just said you had no interest in her," Ludovic pointed out.

"Hadn't as in past tense! I didn't want the bewitching little termagant until I spent three days with her. Damn it all, she's so full of life and vigor. She makes me forget all the miseries of the past. I realize now that I wasn't living but only sleepwalking when I returned from America. Can you understand that, Vic? And now that I know the difference, I can't do without her."

"Then what was the point of your little speech a moment ago?"

"Hang it all! I only wanted to vent my spleen regarding your meddlesome machinations before I saw that damnable smug expression when I told you we were to be wed."

"Me smug? When am I ever smug?" Ludovic smirked. "But I think you were a bit premature on the latter part. It seems you've made a quite a damned mess of it now, haven't you, Hew?"

"Me?" Hew stormed. "I'm the bloody victim in all this! First, I'm drugged and kidnapped. Then I risk my life climbing a hundred-foot mainmast in a tempest only to subsequently be driven to contemplate an ocean dive—"

"An eventful three days," Ludovic interjected.

"You have no idea." Hew groaned. "Now I ask, would any man go to such lengths for a woman he didn't adore? By some miracle, I managed to navigate it all without mishap but then not five minutes in your company, and all is lost, and I haven't a clue how to repair the damage." Hew gave his brother a harried look. "Damn you to hell, Vic!"

Ludovic raised the brandy bottle to his lips. "Undoubtedly."

***

Caught between rage and tears, Vesta didn't trouble to retrieve shawl and gloves before calling for the carriage. "Take me home, Mister Pratt," she commanded.

The jockey-cum-Man-Friday gave her a curious look. "What of the cap'n, miss?"

"I care to know nothing more of him." She sniffed. "Pray do not even mention his name again in my presence."

The grizzled little man gave a knowing nod. "Ah, that be the way of it, then."

"The way of what?" Vesta demanded.

"A lovers' tiff between you and Ca—"

Vesta shot him a warning glare.

"A certain gentleman," Pratt finished with a grin.

"It's not a tiff. It is finished. I won't have him now under any circumstances." She jutted her chin. "I only wish to leave this horrid place and go home to Yorkshire. Please take me now."

Pratt gaped. "To Yorkshire?"

"Yes, did I not say so?"

"When ye said home, I naturally thought ye meant the house on Upper Grosvenor, miss. Ye can't think to hie off all the way to Yorkshire at the drop of a hat."

"And why not?"

"'Tis three days. Ye'll need money for lodgings and a change of clothes for your person, let alone a chaperone. I durst not take ye, miss. Not wi'out his lordship's by-your-leave."

"Botheration! Then take me to Upper Grosvenor, though I don't know what I'm going to say to Aunt Di after all of this."