The Devil's Match (The Devil DeVere #4)(24)

The women who joined Phoebe, Diana, and Vesta were scarce, but included the actress, Elizabeth Ferren, Lord Derby’s longtime mistress, and Margaret, Lady Bunbury, best known for her tranquil tolerance of her husband’s lifelong racing obsession.

During the hour before supper, the men and women were mostly segregated by gender, the men laughing, drinking, and swapping horse tales, while the ladies pursued more quiet and genteel conversation at the other end of the gallery. While Diana had yet to exchange any words with DeVere since her arrival, the respite had only served to increase her tension. Against her will, she found herself casting frequent glances at him across the room that thankfully he was too occupied to notice.

When supper was announced, Ludovic greeted Diana with little more than cool civility. “Baroness”—he inclined his head—”as Vesta’s godmother, I fear you will be obliged to accept my escort to supper.”

“You honor me, my lord,” Diana replied, adopting a deceptively tranquil smile. She was placed at her host’s right hand, with the duke taking his position on DeVere’s left, followed by Hew and Vesta, far too occupied with one another to pay much heed to the rest of the company, which seemed to grow more boisterous with every newly opened bottle of wine. Reflecting upon another dinner at this same table at which she had once covertly studied her host, Diana observed that while outwardly DeVere was still the munificent lord of the manor, providing a bountiful table and free-flowing wine, something subtle had changed. There was a restless edge to his seeming languor, a hardness that accompanied the indolence.

Careful to avoid any private discourse with DeVere, Diana feigned interest in every other conversation around her, picking up snatches of theater gossip from Phoebe and Eliza, breeding pointers exchanged between Lord Egremont and Captain Vernon, and a sotto voce mention by the duke to DeVere of the availability of his last Italian mistress. DeVere’s apparent interest in the subject made her want to grind her teeth. Yet seated beside the man she couldn’t ignore, Diana somehow managed her serene fa?ade for the long hours of the affair until the last cover was finally removed.

As the footman brought in the bottles of port and Madeira, the traditional cue for the ladies to withdraw, Lord Egremont remarked, “I hear your Titan ran undefeated at Doncaster, DeVere. I shall be running a full brother to last year’s champion, Assassin, on the morrow. Do you care to make a gentleman’s wager?”

“I fear you were misinformed about Donacaster, my lord,” Diana interjected before DeVere could reply. “Lord DeVere’s Titan only defeated the stallions and geldings, for my own mare, Boadicea, prevailed in her maiden race against all runners.”

“Is that so, baroness?” remarked Lord Egremont. “I was not aware you were also a follower of the turf.”

“I am, indeed. My late husband, Lord Reginald, kept a fine stable of runners at one time.” Diana directed a pointed stare at DeVere. “And I believe the horse, Titan, that you speak of is even the progeny of our former stallion, Centurion.”

“All too true,” DeVere confessed. “I had the good fortune to acquire a number of fine horses from Lord Reginald prior to his...unfortunate passing.”

It was a fact that needled Diana to no end, that DeVere should now be making his turf name at her expense. “Though little remains of our former glory, I still have a premium brood mare in Cartimandua.”

“I remember her well.” DeVere gave Diana a significant look. “I also recall having some small interest in her. She last ran here at Epsom, did she not?”

“She was, indeed, a fine runner,” Hew interjected. “I rode her myself and think she had a fair chance of beating your Prometheus, dear brother, but then the races ended rather abruptly...” He slanted a glance to Diana, who studied her napkin.

“Yes,” she admitted. “Due to the unforeseen circumstances, her racing career terminated early.” She turned to DeVere with a challenge in her eyes. “But now I have her daughter, a fine filly by Matchem that I intend to run in the Derby.”

“Then perhaps it is you and Lord DeVere who should make a small wager?” Lord Egremont suggested with a smile.

“That would entirely depend on what Lord DeVere would be willing to stake.” Diana taunted her nemesis.

“Ah ha, DeVere!” Lord Egremont laughed. “I wonder if perhaps the devil has finally met his match?”

“You must know by now that I like nothing better than a worthy challenge,” DeVere said, rising to his feet, as well as to her bait. “What do you propose, baroness?” His sardonic gaze swept Diana with renewed interest.

“I am unprepared to answer, my lord. I think I must sleep on it.”

He bowed over her hand. “Then I shall anticipate your answer on the morrow.” As she turned to depart, he added in an undertone, “It seems we may have unfinished business between us, after all.”

She met his gaze over her shoulder. “Perhaps we do at that.”

***

Ludovic caught up with Diana as she was going into the morning room for breakfast. “Good morning, ladies.” He inclined his head in polite greeting to Phoebe and Vesta. “Might I have a private word with you, baroness?” he asked, cornering Diana.

“Why certainly,” Vesta replied, giving Diana no chance to demur. “Come, Phoebe.” Vesta took her stepmother’s arm and compelled her through the morning room doors, glancing over her shoulder with a grin.