A Devil Named DeVere (The Devil DeVere)(60)

Upper Grosvenor Street, three days later



"Vesta, I just can't condone the suddenness of your decision. It is far too impetuous. You are too young! I sent you to London to get a taste of the sophisticated world, to meet people, to dance, to attend the operas and plays. To mix and mingle, not to latch on to the first eligible, young man to come your way! You have so little experience of the world. How can you know that Hew is the one who will make you happy?"

"Because I love him, Papa, and he loves me!" Vesta wailed. "Why should we wait? Just so that I am a year older?"

"Frankly, yes," said Sir Edward. "Much can change with time and maturity, including your feelings for Hew."

"But, Papa! You don't understand. He is already mine, and I am his. Forever."

"Already?" He seemed to latch on to the significance of that one word. His eyes narrowed ominously. His mouth formed a grim line. "What do you mean by already, Vesta?"

She lowered her gaze and bit her lip. "I'm sorry to disappoint you, but it just happened. It was fated, you see."

"Fated, my arse!" His voice boomed. "You mean the blackguard seduced you—my only child!"

"Never!" Vesta cried with passion. "Hew could not have seduced me, for he was unconscious—at least the first night. After that...well...I think perhaps it was I who seduced him."

Her father stared at her with an astounded expression. "How can you even know of such things?"

"Papa, how can you be so na?ve? We live in the country, for goodness' sake! I have seen the stallions, the bulls, the pigs, the sheep, the chickens, and even your own hunting hounds mounting and rutting. Indeed, I think my knowledge of the subject is quite extensive."

"Dear God!" He raked his hair with a groan. "So that's the way of it. But whether Hew intended it or not, he has despoiled you."

"But we wish to wed," she insisted. "So what does it really matter?"

"It bloody well matters because you no longer have a choice, young lady! It matters because I have been dishonored, as well, by the broken faith of my best friend, who had pledged to look after you! I'll be damned if I'll take this sitting down!" He stood with a thunderous look.

"What do you mean to do?" Vesta asked with a rising sense of panic.

"I mean to have satisfaction, of course!" he declared.

"No!" Vesta cried, throwing herself to the floor and wrapping her arms around her father's legs. "You can't do it. Please, Papa!"

"Vesta! Cease these histrionics and unhand me at once. I shan't kill him."

"Y-you won't?" she asked with a soft hiccup.

"Of course not! For he must do right by you. But my troth, I will have my pound of flesh."

***

"Where the devil is he, Winchester?" Sir Edward Chambers demanded the moment he entered the vestibule of DeVere House. "I demand to see Captain Hewett at once!"

"I'm afraid he had some business at Horse Guards this morning and has not yet returned," the majordomo replied.

"And DeVere? He has much to account for as well."

"My lord has not yet risen, Sir Edward."

"Still lazing in bed, is he? It's nearly noon!"

"My lord keeps unconventional hours," the deadpan retainer explained.

"Then I shall just have to pull his conniving arse from the bed myself!" Before the servant could protest, Ned bound up the stairs two at a time. Barreling past DeVere's gaping valet, he barged into the bedchamber, pausing only long enough for his eyes to adjust to the relative darkness within. He scanned the contents of the room and grinned when his gaze lit on the wash basin and pitcher. Taking up the latter, he drew back the bed curtains and poured the contents over the slumbering viscount, while the valet who had followed jerked open the window drapes to allow the full blast of sunshine to bombard the darkened room.

Accosted simultaneously with water and daylight, DeVere bolted upright blinking wildly and spewing a mouthful of curses. "What the bloody hell!" He looked up at Ned glowering down at him, arms across his chest. "Ned, it is at last? Damn well took you long enough. I had expected you yesterday."

"Hang you, DeVere! I bloody well exhausted a half-dozen horses getting here and left my new bride alone and pining for me in my bed. I am not a happy man. You have some serious explaining to do, my friend. I mean to know without delay, distortion, or dissimulation what is this business between your brother and my daughter?"

"Good God, Ned! Can't a man even gather his wits before you begin the harangue? At least let me cover my arse."

"I'll grant you a moratorium of ten minutes, DeVere." Ned fixed him with a menacing glare. "No more, or I'll be dragging you through the streets bare-arsed by your bollocks. I'll be waiting in that so-called library of yours."

"I take exception to that, Ned." DeVere looked affronted. "Some of those books are priceless. I happen to have the finest collection of erotology in London."

"As if you need more fodder for your already debauched mind," Ned jibed. "Ten minutes, DeVere. In the library." Ned subconsciously massaged the knuckles of his right hand. "And it will bode ill for Hew if I happen to find him first."