A Devil Named DeVere (The Devil DeVere)(8)

Edward's color deepened. "It is the residence of a man who calls himself Colonel O'Kelly."

Diana was thoroughly befuddled. "I don't understand. Who is this man to Reggie? And why would he be there when he knew we were all expected here?"

"I only know of him, Diana, and regrettably, nothing good. He is a noted turf man and notorious blackleg. He is also the owner of Eclipse."

"Then mayhap that explains it. Reggie had entertained thoughts of breeding Cartimandua, although I hear the stud fee for Eclipse is extortionate."

"I cannot answer, but DeVere, Hew, and I shall ride over after supper and retrieve your errant spouse."

"Why do we not all go?" she asked.

"Because Clay Hill is no fit place for a lady of good repute."

"Oh?" She arched her brow with a frown. "And why is that? I would know more of this, Edward."

"Then I defer to DeVere." He offered an arm to each lady. "For now I'm famished, so let us descend to supper."

***

In their brief exchange before repairing to dine, Diana found Caroline, Duchess of Beauclerc jealous, possessive, and overweening with her own worth. Toward Annalee, she was warm, if a trifle condescending, but the moment she laid eyes on Diana, or more aptly, the instant DeVere had, her steely gaze shot daggers. Thenceforth, the duchess sought every opportunity to disparage her seeming rival.

"Do you plan another sojourn in town before your return to the country, Lady P? It seems you had little time to catch up on the latest fashions. I could recommend a number of places to you." The duchess smiled. "A friseur, perhaps?"

Diana's hand flew to her hair before she realized she had risen to the bait. While the duchess was undoubtedly more richly attired, stylishly coiffed, and extravagantly bejeweled, Diana knew that her own simplicity of hair, gown, and pearls showed her off to far better advantage. She smoothed back an errant curl and flashed—she hoped—a confident smile. "I know 'tis the fashion in London and Paris, but as a taller woman, I do not favor the high headdress, Your Grace. Besides, with the daily running of an estate, I have not so much leisure to indulge my vanity."

Caroline flicked a scathing look over Diana's gown. "A daring cut for a woman of your proportions. I shall have a footman fetch you a shawl. One would hate for you to catch a chill."

"I am perfectly comfortable," Diana replied.

"Nevertheless—"

"You needn't trouble yourself, Caroline," DeVere interjected. "As host, my guests' comfort is my concern." He turned to Diana with a burning look that made her pulse skitter. "Should you later grow chilly, dear lady, you need only whisper the word, and I shall command every hearth in this monstrosity be lit. I would rather set my entire house aflame than cover such a magnificent…" His gaze raked over Diana's bosom with an appreciative gleam. "…gown."

The duchess looked apoplectic. Though Diana tried at first to suppress it, and then to stifle it behind her hand, she simply couldn't contain the ripples, and for the first time in distant memory, Diana erupted in full-bodied mirth. Although Annalee had warned her of DeVere's dangerous charm, she never could have imagined her own susceptibility to it. His blue eyes glittering with devilment, DeVere joined in her gale of laugher and forgoing protocol, took Diana's hand to lead her into supper, leaving his brother Hewett to escort the fuming duchess.

The incident did little to endear her to the other woman.

They supped at a table that could easily have accommodated twenty with a liveried footman strategically placed behind each person. DeVere commanded the table's head with the Duchess of Beauclerc at his right. Hew took his place on the other side of her while Ned, Annalee, and Diana all sat to the left. Furthest from DeVere and the duchess, Diana enjoyed the opportunity to observe them unobtrusively and stole frequent glances at DeVere. Though the duchess seemed to go out of her way to attract his attention with frequent touches and over-bright laughter, Diana thought he seemed far more interested in his other companions.

The meal was a lengthy event with more covers and dishes than Diana could ever have counted accompanied by the best wines she'd ever tasted. The hours were highlighted with bright conversation punctuated by bursts of laughter, interposed with brief silences only upon the removal of each cover.

"This is quite a remarkable house, my lord," Annalee said. "You implied earlier that it has an interesting history. Perhaps you might share it with us now?"

DeVere leaned back in his chair and signaled for more wine all around. "The story of the house itself is quite innocuous. It is the iniquity of the past owner who has brought it to infamy."

"Iniquitous?" The duchess's eyes gleamed. "But surely you tease us."

His mouth kicked up in one corner. "My dear, I assure you the wolf can identify the beast."

"Go on then," Ned prompted with unrestrained eagerness. "You have us all ears now."

"Let none accuse me of refusing anything to my guests," said DeVere. After emptying his glass, he slumped back in lazy repose, dangling the stem between his fingers. "This house and park were built one hundred years ago by the Evelyn family but passed on to the Calvert family—the Barons Baltimore, the Proprietary Governors of Maryland. The third Baron pulled down most of the old house and made extensive improvements to include the present Palladian fa?ade, but there is little of interest until the estate passed to the Sixth Baron, Frederick Calvert, a man whose life was rife with scandal, from the cradle to the grave."