A Wild Night's Bride (The Devil DeVere #1)(14)

She should feel triumphant that her goal was within easy reach, but was rather strangely deflated and harboring doubts about the entire arrangement. In truth, it was as if her appetite had been whetted for beefsteak...only to be served liver instead.





CHAPTER SIX




When they reentered the receiving room, an entirely new scene greeted them. The room was a shambles. Articles of clothing littered the trees, and male and female bodies slumped everywhere in a drug-like stupor of satiation.

“Where do you think to find him?” she asked.

“Look no further.” Ned inclined his head toward the dais with a glower. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

For surrounded by women and sprawled like a god, or more aptly, a satyr, on the queen’s throne, naked as Adam with a floral wreath on his head and phallic scepter in hand, was Ludovic, Viscount DeVere.

Lacking any sense of shame, he idly caressed the breast of the woman who held his cup to his mouth whilst another knelt between his knees fondling his manhood. To Phoebe’s shock, he seemed to positively glory in the dissolute decadence, as if he were Bacchus incarnate with the entire night tailored for his own sensual gratification.

The moment had come, and she found herself hesitating. Dear God in Heaven. What would Kitty do now?

“You shouldn’t see this.” Ned growled. “I would be more than pleased to call a hack to take you home.”

Grappling with her feigned sangfroid, Phoebe swallowed. Hard. “But whatever for?” The cool response commanded a supreme effort. “I sought DeVere, and here he is.” She couldn’t help slanting a glance at Ned. His jaw was clenched, his pulse throbbing visibly in his neck.

“You really wish to go through with this?” he asked in an undertone. “You see how he is. He’ll only use you and cast you aside.”

“What does it matter? As long as I get what I need, we shall call it an equal trade.”

“I don’t believe you mean that!”

“But, indeed, I do,” she replied, directing a brazen gaze to DeVere and endeavoring to keep it above the impressive staff jutting from his nether region. “For needs must—”

“When the devil drives?” Ned flicked a bilious look from Phoebe to DeVere.

“You might say that.”

“Very well,” he replied, tight-lipped. “If that is what you wish, far be it for me to deny a lady.” Ned made a mocking obeisance to the would-be demigod. “My lord DeVere.”

“Ah, Ned!” Ludovic cried in a voice slurred from drink. “I wondered where you’d gone. You’ve returned with a companion?”

“Only because the lady expressed a wish to make your acquaintance.”

Ludovic gave Ned a sardonic arch of his brow. “How extraordinary. Did she, indeed?” He abandoned the nearby breast to appraise Phoebe. “Charming.”

She realized she had passed muster when he waved away the woman between his legs and flashed her a bedazzling smile. “What is your name, my pet?”

“Kitty,” she replied.

DeVere threw back his head with a guffaw. “Kitty? How delightfully apropos!” His erstwhile companions forgotten, he patted a muscular thigh. “Come then, Kitty, my sweet, little puss. Sit on your master’s lap, and I’ll stroke you ‘till you purr.”

She slanted a look to Ned, a sudden quickening in her chest. His hands were clenched by his sides; his knuckles blanched white. She opened her mouth to speak, but he’d already turned his back on her. Phoebe’s heart sank like a stone.

She knew her mask had slipped when she looked back to DeVere to find him studying her with a sly smile beneath a hooded gaze. “It appears our Ned is quite taken with you, my pet. And one can’t help but wonder if his sentiments might be returned.”

“La! My lord.” She laughed, endeavoring a blithe tone that sounded harsh even to her own ears. “We only just met. Why would you think such a thing?”

“Because I have only once before seen that ‘dog in the manger’ look on his face...and that was over eighteen years ago.”

“I often have that effect on men. Did you not see the queue at my dressing room door? I cannot afford such partiality...not without something in return.”

“Ah,” DeVere said.

“Might I add yours was not the only calling card I received the day after my performance?”

“My card? I had nearly forgotten.”

“Forgotten?”

“Don’t look so disappointed, my dear. And you would be well advised to better conceal your emotions from a man like me.”

“And why is that?”

“I am predatory, you see. It is a wicked quirk of my nature to take advantage of any human weakness. I simply cannot help myself.” His smile was so wickedly charming, Phoebe could easily perceive how he’d earned his nickname.

“I am also a man of caprice,” DeVere continued, “one who lives entirely upon my whim. My attention is easily captured, but sadly, difficult to maintain for any duration. Ennui, you understand. It is a curse, really, as I am continually compelled to seek out new diversions...new companions.”

Heeding his warning about displaying her emotions, she tried to hide her eagerness behind a blasé demeanor. “And you sent me your card. Was this the reason, my lord? A desire for a new companion?”