The Devil's Match (The Devil DeVere #4)(14)

Diana’s heart sank. The prospect of reuniting with DeVere in such intimate circumstances might be Vesta’s dream, but it was Diana’s worst nightmare.

***

“There is a female creature wishing to see you, my lady.” Polly gave a sniff of disdain.

“Oh?” Diana raised a finely arched brow. “Have you a name or a calling card for this so-called creature?”

“She says she’s a salmon, an acquaintance of Lord DeVere. I say she looks right fishy, indeed.”

“You say Lord DeVere has sent her?”

“She ain’t the least respectable, my lady—paint on her eyes and lips and wearing some outlandish, heathenish dress. Shall I turn her away?”

“Is she alone?”

“Nay, but her footman’s equally queer—a behemoth beturbaned blackamoor!”

Diana frowned. “That’s peculiar indeed. No, Polly. Tell her I am at home, and please show her to the drawing room.”

A few minutes later, Diana paused on the threshold to study her unexpected caller. The woman was, indeed, as exotic and incongruous as Polly had described her. She was garbed in diaphanous Turkish trousers and a silk tunic in jewel tones with an exquisitely embroidered girdle about her waist. Rings covered her fingers, and gold bracelets jangled on both arms. Her hair was black as sable and coiled in a braid atop her head with a cap and scarf secured by a jeweled clip draping from her coronet of hair to partially conceal the left side of her face. Dark, almond-shaped eyes lined with kohl regarded her with overt curiosity and more than a hint of hauteur when Diana advanced into the room.

“I am Salime,” she said, the bells on her kid slippers softly jangling as she rose to her feet. She sized Diana up with a languorous but unreadable gaze, as if she was appraising her worth.

“And who is this?” Diana inclined her head to the giant who hovered at the window with arms crossed over his massive chest.

“Pay no heed to Mustafa. He is but a eunuch.”

“A eunuch?” Diana repeated dumbly.

“A man with no—”

“I know what a eunuch is. I just don’t understand why he is here.”

“He is my servant,” Salime answered matter-of-factly. “Eunuchs are common where I come from.”

“And where is that?” Diana asked, indicating her guest should sit. Salime did so, reclining with casual indifference while Diana stiffly settled her voluminous skirts. Despite herself, Diana’s curiosity and fascination regarding this woman was growing by the minute. “Do you care for tea?” Diana offered.

Salime made a face. “An insipid drink. Have you coffee?”

“I’m sorry, I do not drink it,” Diana replied.

Salime waved a dismissive hand. “No matter. The English method of preparation is tasteless. The English senses are bland and dull. It is what I miss of my home. The food. The spices. The scents.”

“And where is home?”

“A land far away, a place in the East you call Constantinople.”

“You are a Turk, then?”

“I was born a Spaniard but raised as a Turk. I was an odalisque in the Imperial Harem at Topkapi Palace.” She gave a proud jut of her chin.

“An odalisque?” Diana repeated. “It is a kind of female servant, is it not?”

“An odalisque is a slave to the concubines of the Imperial Harem.”

“You were a slave?”

“Yes, taken from a Spanish convent school when very young. I don’t remember much before that.”

“You were actually raised in a harem? A serail?”

“Yes,” Salime answered. “But it is not as westerners imagine it. A harem is not a private brothel but the residence of the most venerated women in the empire, the wives and concubines of the sultan. It is also a place of training for young women.”

“Fascinating,” Diana said.

Salime shrugged. “I was given to the harem at a young age and like a hundred other girls, educated by a Kalfa, a senior maid. I was taught many things—to read and write, to sing and dance. And when I proved to be the best of the dancers, I found favor with the Valide Sultana who selected me to be presented to the sultan. I might have been chosen as his concubine or may have been married off to a government official, but the harem is a dangerous place, full of intense rivalry and petty jealousies. One night while I slept”—she released the veil from the left side of her face to reveal a long, jagged scar—”my face was cut. And when my beauty was no more, I was cast out.”

Diana felt her heart move with pity. “How did you come to be in England?”

“It is another long story and not relevant at the moment. I have a purpose in coming here, Khanum.”

“I don’t understand. Polly said you are an...er...acquaintance...of Lord DeVere. What brings you to me?”

The woman’s mouth formed a subtle smile. “I bring instruction, Khanum. To be chosen Iqbal, the favorite of such a man as my lord, is a great honor. Thus, I am come to prepare you.”

“Prepare me?” Diana asked, puzzled.

“Yes. And for this, you must come with me.”

Diana balked. “Go with you where?”

“To a private place. I cannot teach you here.”

Diana’s eyes widened. “Just what is it you intend to teach me, Salime?”