A Wild Night's Bride (The Devil DeVere #1)(34)

“You implied that you had knocked him out before.”

“Yes.” He laughed. “And while he takes inordinate pride in having never lost a wager, he sometimes needs reminding that I have never lost a fight.”

“So like jousting knights of old, you prevailed to claim the lady?”

“Something like that.” He looked rueful. “Claim her, I did, and we were wed three months later.”

“Only three months?” she asked.

“We were young and foolish...and she was carrying my child.”

“Oh.”

“Make no mistake,” he said. “I did love Annalee and was faithful to her and would have been for the rest of my days had not...” His voice dropped off.

“How could I ever compete with that?” she asked with a strangled cry. “To live under another woman’s shadow?”

He pulled her face to his, staring into her eyes in a way that made her pulse skitter. “How I felt then was the idealistic love of a callow youth. How I feel now, and only for you, beggars all description—defies all reason.”

It was as much effort to swallow the lump in her throat as it was to tamp down her rising hopes. “But we’ve only just met.”

He answered with a low rumble of mirth. “And in four-and-twenty hours, you’ve managed to turn my entire staid and respectable world on its ear.”

She found it difficult to believe, to breathe.

“You are beautiful, clever, passionate and need I add, eminently resourceful.” He grinned. “I’ve never known anyone like you, Phoebe.” He gave her a slow, lingering kiss filled with tenderness and promise. “You will wait here until my return. I may be a while, as I must take care of DeVere and fear that may require a petition to the king himself, though I’m still at a loss how I shall explain how a peer of the realm was mistaken for a drunken footman. My second errand will be to call at Lambeth Palace.”

Her heart fluttered. “The archbishop’s residence?”

“Aye. To obtain a special license. Since I won’t have you as my mistress, I’m asking you to be my wife.”

He waited with a look of expectancy while she found her voice.

She truly was speechless. His words were those she had never expected to hear and filled her to bursting. She threw her arms about his neck. “Yes,” she murmured between the kisses she rained upon his face. “With all my being, my answer is yes!”





EPILOGUE




Thornhill Park, West Riding of Yorkshire “I just can’t believe it!” Vesta wailed. “Papa just pops off to London a fortnight ago and returns a sennight later with a wife? How could he? And without even consulting me! And that—that...hussy is barely older than I am!”

“Vesta, dearest, I quite understand how you feel after having been his only joy for so long, but it’s hardly the end of the world. You must not despise your father for remarrying. After all, he’s mourned your mother far longer than most men would have done. Besides, he’s still a young man and no doubt has renewed hope for an heir...especially given such a young bride.” It was an effort to contain her bitter jealousy. Diana was as shocked as Vesta that she had waited patiently by Edward’s side for three years just to be thrown over for a London stage strumpet.

Vesta took on an expression of repugnance. “Is that why he’s wed her, do you suppose? Simply to sire an heir?”

Diana took particular care with her answer. “I don’t doubt that’s part of his reason.”

“But must he act such a besotted fool over her?” Vesta asked, near to tears. “Phoebe this and Phoebe that and my darling, sweet Phoebe. It’s enough to make me cast up my accounts.”

Diana couldn’t agree more. “But by all indications, darling, it does appear a love match.” Love, indeed! It is positively indecent how they can hardly keep their hands off one another. The knowing little baggage has clearly pressed her advantage and bewitched the poor devil.

“But it means so very much change! She has already turned the entire household upside-down. Why did he go and do such an addle-pated thing when we were so happy before?” Vesta wailed.

Secretly desiring to throw a screaming tantrum of her own, Diana watched in empathy as Vesta flung herself onto her bed to fully indulge her histrionics. “I know. I know.” Diana embraced the distraught girl, soothing her, stroking her hair. “It must be terribly hard on you, my lamb, but you must at least try to be happy, for your father’s sake.” Or hope Phoebe has a fatal accident.

After several minutes of racking sobs, Vesta bolted upright, her hazel eyes red-rimmed, her dark ringlets in disarray. “But what about you, Aunt Di? I hadn’t even considered how greatly this alters your position.”

Until now, Diana had been mistress of the house in all but name, running the household, playing hostess, and acting as surrogate mother to Vesta. For three years following her husband’s suicide and the death of her cousin Annalee, it had proven a very comfortable and suitable arrangement for all, but now with Sir Edward’s unexpected marriage, more than just Vesta’s world had turned upside-down.

Sir Edward’s purported object in going to London a mere fortnight ago had been to secure a house for the season, a necessity to introduce his daughter to society with the eventual hope of securing a good husband. Instead, he had returned with his own bride in tow after a mere three days acquaintance! And now, comfortably ensconced in the amorous arms of his young wife, he seemed to have forgotten all about Vesta’s come-out, a happenstance the girl had remarked upon with resentment. Vesta had noted and voiced with particular rancor her father’s abrupt change in habits; his late risings, early retirement, and his lessened enthusiasm for estate business.