The Devil's Match (The Devil DeVere #4)(23)

Diana’s gaze narrowed. “Perfect for DeVere, you mean. That’s the truth of it. The selfish cad simply wasn’t willing to sacrifice a horse race for your wedding.”

“But you know how he is about his racing stud, Aunt Di. It’s one of the only things he cares about. Besides, his stallion won all his matches save one at Doncaster this week, and he feels certain of a win in the two-thousand-guineas race.”

“Really? Did he happen to say which race he lost?”

“I’m sure he did, but I paid little heed. If you really wish to know, Papa could surely tell you. Why do you ask?”

“Because I have a young mare in training at Doncaster. I did not attend her maiden race because of your party, but I received a message from my groom this morning that she won me fifty guineas.”

“Did she, indeed?” Vesta squealed. “Then you must take her to run at Epsom!”

“But Woodcote Park.” Diana shook her head. “You must know after all that happened there, I have no wish ever to return.”

“But it’s all in the past now, Aunt Di. Please say you will come. I would be so very disappointed if you did not stand up with us. Besides, wouldn’t it be a delight to see your mare beat Uncle Vic’s stallion?” Vesta gave Diana a wicked grin.

Diana hesitated for a long moment. There were so many very good reasons not to go, but the temptation to do so was overpowering. “I confess the only thing I would love more in this world than to see Lord DeVere taken down a notch, would be to be the one to do it. Yes, Vesta,” Diana replied, “I will go to Epsom with you, and my mare will race.”





Chapter Ten





Woodcote Park, Epsom, two weeks later





The excursion from Doncaster to Epsom was nothing like the melancholy journey Diana remembered from four years prior. Wishing to banish all unhappy remembrances, she had made certain it would be so. Instead of riding in the carriage with Phoebe and the maids, she and Vesta had cajoled Hew and Sir Edward to allow them to travel most of the trip on horseback. Joining the gentlemen and small army of outriders and grooms, their pace had been brisk and their spirits high, perhaps elevated even more so by the frequent stops at the better taverns and posting houses along the way.

When they finally arrived at DeVere’s country house, Vesta was bubbling over with excitement. “Isn’t it lovely here!” she exclaimed.

“I’ll take you over the grounds shortly,” said Hew as he lifted his fiancée from the saddle and handed the horses off to the grooms. “This expanse of park surrounding the house abuts the Epsom racecourse.”

“How delightful! I am so happy to be arrived at last. Only two more days, Hew.”Vesta sighed. “It’s been an interminable torture to be in one another’s company and not be permitted five minutes alone.”

“Your father is right to enforce the rules of propriety,” Hew remarked.

“Lackaday! How unromantic you are.” Vesta pouted.

“You should be pleased Hew respects your father’s wishes,” Diana berated her.

“Aunt Di, don’t you ever crave stolen kisses in moonlit gardens? But then again, you had ample opportunity the night of the engagement party, did you not?” Vesta gave a mischievous laugh.

“You knew we were out there and locked the door? How could you?” Diana protested.

“My apologies, Diana,” said Hew, “I was unaware of her mischief. I told her not to interfere where you and my brother are concerned.”

“It matters little now,” Diana murmured half to herself. “For here I am, back where it all began.”

“Are you all right?” Hew asked. “I feared it would be too much to ask you to return. If you’ve changed your mind about it, you need only say so.”

“No. It is a beautiful place, Hew, and perfect for your wedding,” Diana said. “I shall be fine. I refuse to put a damper on such a happy occasion.”

“Thank you, Aunt Di,” said Vesta. “I so much wanted to be wed here. Will you please show me the grounds now, Hew?”

“But what of the unpacking? Don’t you wish to see your rooms first?” Hew asked.

“Polly can attend to my things, can’t she, Aunt Di?” Vesta asked, her gaze never leaving Hew’s face as she spoke.

Diana noted the high color in Hew’s cheeks and the gleam in Vesta’s eye as well as the impatient tone of her goddaughter’s voice. “We shall manage.” Diana sighed in capitulation. “But pray don’t be long.” Her remark went unheeded, as they were already bounding together across the lawn in the direction of the yew maze.

“It’s obvious two days can’t come soon enough for either of them,” said Phoebe, joining Diana as her husband tended to horses, grooms, and servants.

“Yes,” said Diana, “but one can only hope Hew can rein her in.”

“I think she truly loves him,” Phoebe said.

“I think she does too,” Diana agreed. “Shall we proceed?” She nodded toward the house.

Phoebe smiled in reply, and the two women advanced arm-in-arm to the white marble portico of DeVere’s Woodcote Park.

***

Diana didn’t see DeVere until supper that evening, a lively event that encompassed the pillars of the turf world who gathered seasonally at each scheduled racing venue. Casting her gaze about the drawing room, Diana recognized many familiar faces, Lords Derby, Egremont, Grosvenor, Clermont, Captain Vernon, Sir Charles Bunbury, who was the Steward of the Jockey Club, and the Duke of Queensberry, whom she had formerly known as Lord March.