A Devil's Touch (The Devil DeVere #4.5)(3)

Ludovic sloshed amber liquid into two glasses, handing one to the would-be herald, who downed it in one draught. Ludovic quirked a brow.

"It was a devilish long ride," Ned explained.

"All to deliver this shocking report of yours?" Ludovic perched a hip on the corner of his mahogany desk.

"Yes! It's Lazarus all over again!"

"Lazarus, you say? Am I to surmise that someone has been miraculously raised from the dead?"

"Actually, he might as well have been," Ned declared. "I can hardly countenance it after all this time."

"You are trying my patience, Ned."

"It's Simon returned."

"Good God!" The glass slipped from his hand to shatter at Ludovic's feet. "You can't mean Sin is alive? He was pronounced killed in action six years ago."

"I mean exactly that!" Ned exclaimed. "I have the news straight from Baron Singleton. He is indeed alive and may even be in London as we speak. His ship was expected to arrive several days ago."

"Why am I only hearing of this now? I see the bloody Singleton regularly at Parliament."

"Probably because the good baron doesn't like you, DeVere. He believes you were an abominable influence on his son."

"Then he would be right." Ludovic smirked and then stared at the shattered glass at his feet.

"Looking a bit white there, my friend. This is known as shock."

"Admittedly, I am incredulous. How can this be? Where the devil has he been?"

"Interned as a prisoner of war for the greater part of six years."

"Six years imprisonment? In all that time there were no exchanges?"

"Very few. The colonials refused to give up ours when they claimed their men were only released on the point of starvation and death, the poor sods. I daresay 'tis no exaggeration, for I've seen a number of reports on the deplorably inhumane conditions of our prison hulks. Indeed it's said that the colonials set fire to the Whitby, choosing to go down in flames, rather than die of starvation and disease." Ned shook his head. "What a hellish business war is."

"But if Sin was a prisoner, he should have been released nigh on a year ago upon the treaty signing."

"Apparently he was too ill to travel all the way to England. He only made it as far as Bermuda before he was struck with the bloody flux or some such ailment that required months of convalescence…the poor sod."

Their gazes met as silence engulfed them in a dark and sober cloud.

"He'll not be the same man," Ned finally voiced what they were both thinking.

"No. Likely never again," Ludovic agreed. "We must go to him, Ned. At once."

***

Diana bathed, dressed, and resolved to seek out her husband. She took great pains with her appearance in hope of inspiring at least a faint spark of interest from him, sensing that alone would set her troubled heart at ease. Although she still felt ungainly, she knew she at least looked her best, or as good as she could under present circumstances.

The gown she'd chosen was a soft silk damask of green and gold, shades most complimentary to her coloring and eyes. Both the colors and the scandalously low cut bore no small similarity to the one that had mesmerized Ludovic the night they had first met. Although it was over five years ago, every word and nuance from their first night together was burned indelibly into her brain. She wondered if he would recall it as well.

She hoped her generous showing of flesh would serve to jog his memory and incite his passion, that she would see something telling in his expression when she appeared; for it seemed to her a cruel and heartless jest of nature that her desire for him would have increased during this time, while his for her had only waned. Even in her ninth month of pregnancy, she still craved him with a desperate hunger.

Clasping the balustrade for better balance, she cautiously descended the massive marble staircase, her mind racing for a means to discover and mend the breach between them. If he hadn't gone riding, Diana presumed he would be consulting with his man of business in either his private study or perhaps in the library. When she didn't discover him in the former, she sought him out in the latter. Finding the library door ajar, she gave a soft rap and entered.

"Darling, might we speak for a moment—" She paused at the threshold when two pairs of eyes darted to her. "I'm so sorry! I didn't realize you were occupied."

"Diana!" Ned took to his feet the moment he saw her.

"Why, hello, Edward!" she exclaimed with a smile of genuine pleasure. "What a delightful surprise! Are Phoebe and little Ned with you?"

"I'm sorry to disappoint you, but no. This was a very unexpected trip." Ned strode across the library to greet her with a kiss on the cheek. "How lovely you look, like a rose in full bloom."

Diana blushed. "Lovely? You mean how large! Blooming indeed! I'm as big as a blooming house."

He shook his head. "I would argue that breeding quite agrees with you."

"You can desist now, Ned," Ludovic interrupted with a peculiar look. Although she knew jealousy to be foreign to his nature, it was almost as if he resented the open display of affection between Diana and his best friend.

Ned's brow furrowed. "Desist what?"

"Flirting with my wife. It will go to her pretty head. Trust me when I say she does not want for attention. Indeed the proof is in the oven." Ludovic came to Diana's side and placed a possessive hand on her rather protuberant midsection.