The Devil's Match (The Devil DeVere #4)(11)

“Hang you, DeVere! I bloody well exhausted a half-dozen horses getting here and left my new bride alone and pining for me in my bed. I am not a happy man. You have some serious explaining to do, my friend. I mean to know without delay, distortion, or dissimulation what is this business between your brother and my daughter?”

“Good God, Ned! Can’t a man even gather his wits before you begin the harangue? At least let me cover my arse.”

“I’ll grant you a moratorium of ten minutes, DeVere.” Ned fixed him with a menacing glare. “No more, or I’ll be dragging you through the streets bare arsed by your bollocks. I’ll be waiting in that so-called library of yours.”

“I take exception to that, Ned.” DeVere looked affronted. “Some of those books are priceless. I happen to have the finest collection of erotology in London.”

“As if you need more fodder for your already debauched mind,” Ned jibed. “Ten minutes, DeVere. In the library.” Ned subconsciously massaged the knuckles of his right hand. “And it will bode ill for Hew if I happen to find him first.”

***

Given his own painful history with Ned’s fists, Ludovic decided he’d much prefer to be a fly on the proverbial wall when Ned caught up with Hew, instead of becoming the recipient of the yet-caged fury. Waving away his valet, he splashed his own face with water, threw on a banyan—rather than taking the time to fully dress—and padded barefoot to his library. He observed that Ned had already helped himself to a bottle of Madeira.

“Aren’t you drinking rather early for one of your abstemious inclinations?” Ludovic asked.

Ned’s air was only slightly less ominous than before. “I thought I might find it a pacifying influence, but it doesn’t seem to be working. I’m still ready to pummel both of you. Now tell me what the devil has transpired in the single fortnight since I sent my daughter to London with the simple request that you look after her.”

To Ludovic’s inexpressible delight, Hew chose that precise moment to enter the library.

“Sir Edward,” he approached Ned with an unusually formal bow. “I am glad to see you arrived safely.”

“At the moment you might be.” Ned spoke drily. “But when I am through with you, you might wish I’d been beset upon by brigands.”

Hew flushed the color of his uniform. “You have every right to be incensed, Sir Edward. I can only beg your forgiveness for any damage I might have caused to your family’s good name and your indulgence that I might offer a thorough explanation.”

Ned settled back in his chair, grim-faced. “Very well, then. Proceed to explain to me exactly how and why you went about compromising the virtue of my eighteen-year-old daughter.”

Ludovic interrupted with an impatient huff. “Ned, did you not send Vesta to town to find a husband?”

“I only sent her for her come-out, for an introduction to society. She is far too young to wed.”

“Yet you and Annalee were no older,” Ludovic argued.

“It’s not that simple, and you know it!” Ned growled.

“Bollocks! It is exactly the same. Vesta set her cap for Hew and then contrived an exceedingly clever scheme to have him. Hew was at first unaware of her affections, but after three days on shipboard together, he became equally enamored. Thus, nature simply took its course.”

Ludovic watched warily as Ned slammed a fist against his own palm and winced at the distinctive sound of flesh on flesh. It was an unsubtle reminder of his own late experience with Ned’s fists. “You are her godfather, damn it!” Ned shouted. “You were supposed to protect her! To look after her interests.”

“And I did precisely that,” Ludovic argued. “You have known Hew most of his life. Can you honestly picture a more respectable and upstanding husband for Vesta? Had Hew demurred, I may have taken the scheming, little baggage myself.”

“The hell you would! I’d see you hanged first, DeVere. Indeed, I’d delight in doing the honors myself!” Ned’s face was flushed, and his chest rose markedly with every intake of breath.

With the threat of violence looming, Hew stepped boldly between them. “While I appreciate your brotherly sentiments, Vic, I can and will speak for myself. Sir Edward, while I regret the manner in which our hasty courtship came about, please believe that I care deeply for Vesta and only wish her happiness. I have every reason to believe she desires the match as much as I do, but I am also aware that she is not of an age to decide these things for herself.”

“Damned right!” Ned declared. “She’s not ready by half!”

“Although I have little choice but to abide by your decision in this matter, please believe neither of us will change our mind.”

“You would not try to circumvent me and elope?”

“No, Sir Edward. It would not be my wish to begin our life together in such a disreputable manner.”

Ned’s scowl seemed to soften. “I know she could do far worse than you, Hew, but I won’t have talk. If you wish to proceed, from this moment on you must pay your address with fitting propriety. I won’t have my only child wed in a suspiciously slapdash manner.”

“But what if...” Hew colored.

Ned raised a brow. “Vesta herself came into the world a mere six-month after Annalee and I said our vows, but everyone turned a blind eye. There will be minimal talk if little is made of it. No, Vesta will return to Yorkshire with me where the banns will be called and all protocol followed. Is that understood?”