A Devil Named DeVere (The Devil DeVere)(97)

More than you can imagine. Her gaze flickered with uncertainty from Ludovic to Edward. But alas, it was not the time. "It can wait, my love." She forced a smile and prevaricated. "'Twas only a minor question about the nursery."

"My, my, DeVere!" Ned lifted a brow with a chuckle. "You are now consulted about the nursery? It is my turn to be shocked at how domesticated you have grown. I never thought I would live to see a once feral tom cat so completely tamed."

"Cats?" Ludovic visibly shuddered. "Must you speak of cats?"

Diana looked to Ned, who then explained, "He has had a powerful aversion to felines ever since our school days."

"Why is that?" Diana asked.

"It involves a certain escapade with a lion," Ned replied.

"A lion?" Diana laughed. "Whatever were you doing with a lion?"

He and Ned exchanged conspiratorial looks. "'Tis a long story for another day," Ludovic said.

"Men!" Diana rolled her eyes but noted that his had never left her. Although their entire exchange was light and playful, his gaze was not. It slid over her again, slowly, heatedly, inciting quivers low in her belly and warmth between her thighs.

"I'll leave you both be. Perhaps you could come upstairs when you are finished?" she suggested, feeling a bit breathless with anticipation.

He cocked a brow. "To discuss the nursery?"

"Yes. Of course." She licked her lips.

"I'm sorry, my pet," he replied with a pained look. "It may have to wait a few days, as it seems I must make an unexpected journey to town."

"Oh?" Diana bit her quivering lip. "Why must it be now?"

"Because it must." He caressed her cheek. "I promise, Diana, not to be gone a moment longer than my business requires. I know you are growing anxious about your confinement, but the physician said it is weeks away yet."

She knew he meant to reassure her, but the words echoed a hollow peal in her head. Why did he have to leave when she felt so fragile, so filled with insecurity and doubt?

"Very well." She averted her gaze. "I'm sure a few days in town will do you a world of good. I know I've been poor company for you of late. It seems the days are growing more exhausting as my time draws nearer."

"So I am told by the accoucheur," Ludovic stated dryly.

"It will be so until the last week," Ned interjected. "And then you may feel a sudden burst of energy."

"Oh? Is that so?" Diana asked, feigning an interest she didn't feel.

"Yes. Annalee and Phoebe both experienced it at the end of their confinements."

Ludovic made an impatient noise. "If you are quite finished playing midwife now, Ned, I should like to discover the current whereabouts of one Captain Simon Singleton."

"Captain Singleton?" Diana asked. "Is he an acquaintance of Hew?"

"No," Ludovic replied. "He was one my closest friends, second only to Ned, and is the reason for my abrupt departure. His father shipped him off to the colonies before the rebellion. He has been gone these dozen years or more. We had believed him killed. Ned now informs me that he lives."

"Oh my!" Diana exclaimed. "What a shock this must be. Is he safely home then?"

"I don't know, but I shan't waste any time finding out. If he is, I daresay he'll be in dire need of his old friends." He and Ned exchanged a significant look. "God knows how we will find him physically…or otherwise."

"Heaven knows indeed," Diana echoed sadly. "Do whatever you must, my love. I understand your haste and shall be fine."

***

An hour later, Ludovic had kissed her goodbye, leaving behind a hollow feeling in her chest. Though fatigue had once more set in, Diana avoided her bedchamber for fear of dampening her pillow with tears of self-pity. Instead, she moped about the empty house until returning to the library. Thinking a book might serve as a distraction, she searched amongst the vast collection of leather-bound spines for something to help her pass the time until her husband's return.

She pulled her beloved volume of John Donne's poetry from the shelf but then returned it for fear of the memories it surely would invoke. It was after reading The Dream that she had first fantasized of going to DeVere's bed. When she had eventually and inevitability succumbed to him, the reality had far exceeded her na?ve fantasies of what could be between a woman and a man. He had loved her body and shown her pleasure in myriad manifestations, the memories of which even now filled her with longing for what had been and incited an ache deep within her.

Diana worried that she would never again experience such passion, that it was already spent—a mere three months into their marriage. Perhaps she was making too much of matters and all would return to normal after her lying in? Still she vowed, upon Ludovic's return, to do whatever she needed to do to reclaim him before his jaded eye wandered to another.

She paused her perusal of the bookshelves to rub the small of her back with a woeful sigh before finally settling on the latest novel penned by Fannie Burney—the adventures of a young heiress named Cecelia. She retrieved the book from the shelf, but by now her feet and back ached so badly, she dreaded the thought of climbing the stairs to her private apartments.

Instead, her gaze settled on her husband's highly comfortable and recently vacated chair. Alighting in the plush over-stuffed chair, Diana released a soft moan of contentment. Ensconced in the faint and wonderful scents of leather and Ludovic, a renewed calm settled over her. Giving in to the most unladylike urge to prop her feet on the desk, Diana took up a stack of papers to clear a spot, but a particular sheet of foolscap conspicuously penned in a most delicate and elaborate style of calligraphy caught her eye. It was definitely not a man's hand.