The Devil's Match (The Devil DeVere #4)(43)

Chapter Eighteen





“Bloody, bloody hell!” Ludovic bellowed. “What the devil am I to do now, Ned? It’s been weeks! She won’t see me and won’t even accept a letter. I cannot lose her like this! She’s carrying my child, for Christ’s sake.”

“Have you consulted a solicitor in the matter of your title?” Ned asked.

“Yes! And there’s naught to be done. I would willingly give up everything for her, but if I were to renounce my title, it would simply go into abeyance until my death. Moreover, Hew and I would both lose all income from the properties, which does no one any good.” He paced the room with long strides and spun around with a wild look.

“Do you know for a crazed moment I even considered declaring myself incompetent in order to confer the title directly to Hew? It is, after all, how I gained the bloody thing in my predecessor’s lifetime. Two physician’s statements and a private petition to parliament and voila, I became the sixth Viscount DeVere. I daresay there are any number of people who doubt my sanity of late.” He gave a self-deprecating laugh. “In truth, I’m surely bound for Bedlam anyway if I don’t get her back.” He poured and downed a brandy in one draught. “Did you ever think you would see it, Ned? Ludovic, ‘The Devil’ DeVere brought to his knees by a woman?”

“This is nonsensical, Vic. You must tell Hew. He would never want this, certainly not under these circumstances.”

“Tell Hew what?” asked the voice of Captain Hewett DeVere.

“Hew!” DeVere rose unsteadily to his feet. “When did you come to town?”

“I just arrived. I left the very moment Vesta told me about you and Diana. What is all this nonsense about?” Hew gave his brother a thunderous look. “And why the devil have you not married her already?”

“I’ve asked him the same thing, Hew,” said Ned. “It seems your brother has a rather distorted notion of honor.”

“I would be inclined to agree if he would suffer a gently bred woman to bear his child out of wedlock. Pray pour me a drink as well, big brother. I must surely hear this tale from your own lips.”

DeVere gave a frustrated groan. “What’s the point? You already know the crux of it. Diana is carrying my child, and I cannot wed her without breaking my vow to you.”

Hew appeared stunned. “What the devil have I got to do with it?”

“I declared you my sole heir. That the title and all it entails is to be yours. It’s the very reason you wed, after all.”

“Rein back again, Vic!” Hew raised both hands in vehement protest. “Let me disabuse you of that notion right now! You did not coerce me to wed. When I returned from America, I wanted nothing more than to settle down with a wife at some small, country estate. You simply expedited my plan by providing a generous settlement. Now there is no man more content, for I have more than I ever dreamed of. And as far as the wretched title is concerned, I never recall at any time in my life expressing the least desire for it.”

“Yet you didn’t decline it,” DeVere said.

“No. What choice did I have when you were so bloody opposed to ensuring the continuity of it? I simply acquiesced to your wishes. If matters have now changed, there is no man more delighted than me; so please, let me be the first to say get off your bloody arse and wed the woman!”

***

My dearest Lord DeVere,

It seems now as if our time together was little more than a foolish, romantic idyll, a temporary reprieve from reality, which has now come to its inevitable conclusion. And while I cannot condemn your actions as a man of honor, I can neither accept raising our child under the stigma of bastardy.

For this reason, I am leaving London immediately to seek a new residence, somewhere quiet where I intend to raise our child alone and in respectable obscurity. To this end, I ask that you adhere to your promise that we shall never be in want and only request that a living allowance be provided to cover our basic needs. I would also request that a trust be established to ensure the proper education of your son or daughter.

Please do not attempt to contact me as I am resolute in my decision that this course of action is truly in the best interest of our child. This will be my only correspondence with you as all communication henceforth must perforce occur through our respective solicitors...

Diana paused to wipe the tears that blurred her eyes, spilled onto the page, and smeared the wet ink. She rose from her escritoire, crumpled the foolscap with a cry of frustration, and cursed herself again for being ten kinds of fool. Of course, it was the logical action to take, to divorce her mind and distance her body from him. Yet, every night she awoke fevered with yearning for his lips on hers, for the musky scent of his body, for the dull and steady thump of his heartbeat under her cheek.

She paced the room, wondering what it might have been like had he cared enough for her to sacrifice his damnable honor but then realized the selfishness of her thoughts. She knew he was miserable too, yet he was adamant in regard to his word once given. DeVere surely had his own peculiar code, but it spoke much of any man to sacrifice his own desires to keep his bond. Thoughts like these continued to wreak havoc on her peace, for as much as she wanted to despise him, Diana could not.

Instead, she wallowed in what ifs and self-pity, the prospect of motherhood being the only light that shined into her present darkness. Diana knew it would take time for her torn heart to mend, but surely the birth of this life inside her would palliate the pain. If only he would stay away, she could learn to be content, but how could she ever deny the man if he desired to acknowledge his own child? These questions only served to reopen the wound.