A Wild Night's Bride (The Devil DeVere #1)(18)

“And I’m not about to lose a thousand guineas over your cravenness.”

“I won’t rise to that,” Ned said. “You know damned well I’m no craven. I proved it eighteen years ago, or did that old blow to your head affect your long-term memory? Besides, according to the terms of the wager, a second man is very much de trop.” He also looked to Phoebe.

“You both take much for granted,” Phoebe answered with an indignant sniff.

“What do you mean?” asked DeVere.

“I have no interest in any of this.”

“Of course you do,” DeVere insisted. “You are part and parcel of it.”

“I am no such thing!” she retorted and signaled a passing hackney coach.

“What do you think you are doing?” DeVere demanded.

“It’s very late. I’m very tired. I’m going home.”

“I shall escort you,” Ned said.

“The hell you will!” DeVere cried. “You are both coming with me to St. James Palace.”

“And do what?” Phoebe confronted him toe-to-toe, her hands firmly on her hips. “I heard the wager. I am not a woman of pleasure.”

“No?” DeVere murmured. “Then what, precisely, was the arrangement you sought with me earlier tonight?”

She cocked her head haughtily. “That was a private affair, certainly not for public consumption. News of this escapade will be all over London within four-and-twenty hours.”

DeVere smirked. “Surely you misjudge. I estimate it’ll travel at least far as York by then.”

She shot daggers with her eyes. “The result is the same. Even should I agree to such a lewd proposition and we succeed, my reputation would be in tatters. I could never recover from it.” She spun on her heel.

“But think what the notoriety could do for your career!”

She ignored the remark and trudged on. DeVere grabbed her arm and spun her back around. “Then think how very comfortably you and your tattered reputation could live.”

She made to pull out of his grasp and stopped in her tracks. “What do you mean by that?”

“If you are not of an exceedingly extravagant nature, a thousand guineas might go a very long way. It could buy a modest town home or perhaps a lovely seaside cottage in Bath. The remainder, if shrewdly invested, could pay out a nice enough dividend to provide your needs for the next ten to twenty years. As to your reputation, you could always change your name.”

She was thunderstruck. “You propose to give me the money...all the money if you win?”

“I have no need of the money, my dear. This is entirely about the adventure. And it was you who inspired it, after all.”

“She inspired this madness?” Ned interjected. “How?”

“He took seriously a remark I made only in jest,” she explained. She turned back to DeVere. “You are truly in earnest about the money?”

“On my honor,” he replied, hand over heart.

Phoebe regarded him with suspicion. “I don’t think I can trust you.” She turned to Ned. “Can I trust him?”

***

“Yes,” Ned answered with a scowl. “It may be an oxymoron, but he’s an honorable rogue.” Ned looked incredulous. “You aren’t seriously contemplating this insanity?”

It was insanity, but DeVere was right. A thousand guineas could possibly meet her needs for life. And it was for only one night. She had already intended to barter far more for far less. She would be a fool to turn away now.

“A thousand guineas places matters, even my lost reputation, in quite another light.”

“Then you intend to go through with this?”

Her heart wrenched at the open disgust on Ned’s face. She hesitated, knowing her answer would surely reduce her to nothing more than a whore in his eyes. She closed her own so she at least wouldn’t see it. “Yes,” she said. “I intend to go through with it.”

Ned groaned. “Bloody hell! What did I ever do to deserve this?”

“You needn’t involve yourself,” Phoebe said, refusing to meet his gaze. “The wager only requires the two of us.”

“And I despise that he’s got you entangled in his antics.” He heaved a martyr’s sigh. “While DeVere can go to the devil for all I care, I won’t see you taken by the palace guard for his flight of madness.”

“A thousand guineas is a powerful inducement,” she said. “I go willingly.”

“Nevertheless, I will accompany you.” Ned turned back to DeVere who regarded them both with an amused smirk. “I’m acting against all my instincts and inclinations, so be forewarned I’m more than likely to pummel you before this night is through.”

DeVere threw his head back and crowed, “That’s my Ned of old!”

While this ludicrous exchange was taking place, Phoebe had already signaled a hackney coach. “What need have we for a hack when St. James Palace is only across the square?” DeVere asked.

“Don’t you suppose this requires a plan?” she countered. “Covent Garden Square,” she instructed the driver.

“A plan?” DeVere repeated blankly.

“Aye,” she answered. “I don’t intend to risk my neck without one.”