A Devil Named DeVere (The Devil DeVere)(66)

Diana studied the woman she had once believed her nemesis. She had, indeed, despised Phoebe, casting all culpability on the pert and pretty former actress for disrupting her neatly ordered life, but she realized now how selfish and self-absorbed she had been to do so. Ned had grieved the loss of Annalee for over three years. Eschewing all pleasurable pursuits, he had dedicated the last few years to managing his estate and raising his daughter, but now Vesta was grown, and Ned, of all people, deserved to be happy again. Besides, upon further acquaintance, Phoebe had shown herself to be a lady of good breeding and not the stage strumpet Diana had in her prejudice supposed her to be.

"Please, my lady," Phoebe said, "I would never presume to replace Annalee in anyone's affections, but if we could only be friends, it would mean so very much to Ned...and to me." Phoebe regarded her with earnest blue eyes that could not hide her wistfulness. Softening, Diana vowed in that moment to be more civil.

"Please accept my apologies for my reserve, Lady Chambers—"

"Just Phoebe," the other woman insisted.

"Phoebe. You are right. There have been many abrupt changes, and I have blamed you unfairly, but I suppose life must go on."

They both turned their attention to the bottom of the grand staircase, where with a rapt expression, Captain Hewett received his bride-to-be. A footman offered champagne to all, and Phoebe accepted two glasses. "To new beginnings?" she prompted, handing one to Diana. Diana inclined her head with a smile.

"What a lovely engagement party, Papa!" Vesta declared in a voice breathy with excitement as she, Hew, and Edward joined the two women. "Look, Hew!" Vesta pointed to the string quartet. "The musicians are preparing to play. We must form up for the dancing soon." Her excited gaze darted about the room. "But where is Uncle Vic?"

"I have yet to see him," Hew replied with a frown. "He was supposed to have arrived two days ago with some horses he intended to race at Doncaster, but I haven't heard from him. I sent Pratt to locate him hours ago."

Vesta's joyful countenance crumpled.

"Don't take it to heart," Edward said. "DeVere has a strong aversion to all things matrimonial."

"But he would never miss our engagement party! Would he?" Vesta asked.

Ned shrugged, but Hew's expression hardened. "I know he despises all the social niceties, but he will surely live to regret it, my love, if he does not show."

"But he must! He is the best man and the highest-ranking guest. The rules of precedence dictate that he begins the dancing."

"Dancing? My brother?" Hew laughed. "I fear you may expect too much, Vesta. I can't recall the last time Ludovic graced a dance floor. Can you, Sir Edward?"

"I believe it may have been at my own wedding to Annalee. Caroline Capheaton somehow managed to coerce him."

"Caroline? The duchess?" Diana asked. "One need not stretch the imagination to guess what inducement she must have used."

Edward's brows shot up, and Diana wished she had held her tongue.

Vesta's gaze narrowed. "Well, he will do it for me, Hew. I swear he will. I will not let anything spoil the happiest night of my life." She shot him a sidelong glance, adding with a coquettish smile, "Well, maybe the second happiest night."

Edward glowered, and Hew colored magenta. "Perhaps you could delay the orchestra for a bit while I try to locate my errant brother?" Hew suggested to his soon-to-be father-in-law.

He turned on his heel to do precisely that when Vesta laid a staying hand on his arm. "Wait, Hew. There he is."

All eyes turned to the door where DeVere paused, doffed his hat to bride and groom, and made a sweeping bow. He continued toward them, sporting a glazed look and a somewhat unsteady gait.

"What the devil!" Hew exclaimed. "Is he drunk?"

"By all appearances..." Edward shrugged. "I suppose it was to be expected. He told me he strongly preferred a quiet civil ceremony, rather than all the hullabaloo. At least he deigned to make an appearance."

"Perhaps I'd rather he hadn't. My apologies, dearest," Hew said to Vesta. "Do you wish me to ask him to leave?"

"Lackaday, Hew!" Vesta exclaimed. "He is your brother!"

"Still, I won't have him embarrass you." Hew looked to Sir Edward.

"I am long accustomed to DeVere's caprice. He may do as he wishes...as long as he remains clothed."

"What is that supposed to mean?" Diana asked.

"The night Annalee and I were engaged, he took a naked dip in the ornamental fountain. Luckily, the rose petals concealed...you know."

Diana was aghast. "Has he no sense of propriety?"

"None," Hew answered. "A word of warning, Diana, the less made of it, the better. Should you dare criticize, he will only delight in flouting you all the more."

"Dear brother. Dear sister." Bride and groom regarded him with uncertainty as DeVere embraced each with a kiss on the cheek. Diana was assailed with the pungent smell of brandy even from where she stood behind them. She also noted with distaste that he was rumpled, unshaven, his velvet coat was covered with dust, and mud clung to the soles of his normally glossy black boots. "Why the long faces?" he asked.

Hew gave him a scathing look. "What did you do? Come straight from the races?"