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

“And I have every reason to mistrust you.”

“Do you, indeed? And precisely how have I abused your good faith?”

Diana realized she had backed herself into a corner. She had vowed not to give him a display of the bitterness and hurt she carried like so much unwanted baggage and then had done precisely that. “None of it matters anymore,” she replied. “The issue is Vesta.”

“Very well. Have it your way.” DeVere rolled his eyes with a sigh. “It seems that Vesta and Hew have embarked upon a short pleasure cruise.”

“A cruise? You refer to an ocean voyage?”

“I do.”

“But how is such a thing possible?”

“As you know, baroness, our mutual goddaughter is a young lady of high spirits. It appears she has taken it upon herself to spirit away the object of her matrimonial fancy—my brother, Captain Hewett DeVere.”

Diana was stunned. “You imply that Vesta has kidnapped Hew?”

“Just so. After administering a sleeping draught in his tea, she whisked him off to Greenwich where they boarded a yacht.”

“A yacht?” she repeated blankly. “And just how would an eighteen-year-old girl come by such a thing as a yacht?”

DeVere studied the ceiling. “As I am not in the least opposed to a union between my best friend’s daughter and my younger brother, I offered her any resource at my command to promote the match.” His mouth twitched again. “She took me at my word.”

“And appropriated a yacht?” Diana collapsed back onto the settle with an air of incredulity.

“Just so.”

“She is gone to sea with no chaperone? This is outrageous!”

“I told you she is perfectly safe,” he repeated in a bored tone. “She was escorted by my man, Pratt, and is under my brother’s care. You know as well as I that he would not hesitate to give his life to keep her safe.”

“But she is ruined! Don’t you understand that?” Diana struggled to contain her fury.

DeVere only looked bored. “Was not the entire point of coming to London to find some dupe willing to leg-shackle? If so, my brother is the ideal candidate.”

“Speaking of your brother, don’t you see this intolerable situation gives him no choice, no recourse, but to wed her? Is that fair to him?”

DeVere shrugged. “He had recently come to the decision to wed, and as I stated, there are various advantages to the match.”

“Advantages to you, mayhap, but what of Hew? Is he not his own man and fully capable of managing his own life without your interference?”

DeVere’s gaze narrowed. “Why so concerned for my brother? One might think you have feelings for Hew.”

“What if I did?” she retorted. “It’s no business of yours! Besides, your abominable machinations have already destroyed any potential of that.”

DeVere rose and came to her, perching himself on the arm of the settle. “My honorable and straitlaced brother could never satisfy a woman like you, Diana. He could never plumb the depths of your passion...unlock your secret desires.”

His voice was low and seductive, and the flickering blue fire in his eyes heated her insides. Diana fiercely tamped down the smoldering sensation that threatened to reignite feelings she’d struggled to suppress. “And what would you know of my wants and desires after four years?”

“A great deal.” He gave her a slow, confident smile. “Given that I was the one to unleash them.”

Diana averted her face with a bitter laugh. “Thus you presume to have an exclusive claim to me?”

“Has any other exerted one?” he asked softly. Nonplussed, he reached out a hand and traced a long, manicured finger along her jaw. “You are still unwed, Diana. Have you taken another lover in my absence?”

“It is none of your business whether I have or not, and you are grossly impertinent to ask.”

He laughed long and low. “I think I have my answer.”

She glared at him, and thus they remained, silently challenging one another for an interminable beat. Then suddenly his mouth was on hers, taking, possessing, as if it was, indeed, his singular privilege. Diana leaned into him, teasing his lower lip with her tongue and sucking it eagerly into her mouth before sinking her teeth into it. Hard. Savoring the coppery taste of his blood.

“What the hell!” DeVere jerked back with a cry. He touched his lip and examined the crimson stain on his fingertip, his expression a mix of outrage and bemusement.

“You took without invitation,” Diana said. “It was a warning not to do so again.”

“I have never importuned you. As I recall, you came to me.”

“A mistake I shall never repeat.” Diana rose in a rustle of silk and crossed the room to pour two glasses of sherry. “As to Vesta and Hew, I have already written Sir Edward of what little I knew of the circumstances. I would recommend you do so as well. I daresay he will not be pleased when he comes to town.” She took a sip of her drink and offered the other to DeVere, who had retrieved a handkerchief from his pocket to blot the drops of blood from his mouth.

“I imagine Vesta and Hew will be happily wed before that eventuality,” he said. “They should return in two or three days, and I have already procured the special license.” He accepted the proffered sherry. Diana smirked when he winced at the first stinging sip. He shot her a dark look.