The Devil's Match (The Devil DeVere #4)(9)

“I did not think you a man of the least sensibility.”

Ludovic rose as Vesta and Hew returned through the terrace door, noting the high color spotting Hew’s cheeks and the deep rose of Vesta’s swollen lips with a twitch of his own. “Then perhaps, my dear, you don’t know me quite as well as you thought.”





Chapter Four





King’s Place Brothel, St James, Westminster





“Ah, my Lord DeVere!” Madam Hayes rushed forth to greet her noble guest with a sweeping curtsey that displayed an indecent amount of her bosom. “What an honor that you once more grace us with your presence! You have been away so long that I feared to have lost your custom altogether.” She clasped his sleeve; her brightly painted lips formed a coquettish moue.

“I have been much occupied of late, my dear. But pray, have no fear, I have been well-satisfied with our arrangement to date.”

“I am gratified to hear that, my lord. Now, what is your pleasure this evening? I have several delicious, young nymphs on offer, new and certifiably unsullied.”

DeVere smirked. “You mean your physician is a magician in making what is well-worn brand new again.”

“You know I only offer premium goods,” she protested.

“I might better say you offer your goods at a premium.” DeVere chuckled. “Besides, you know I haven’t a penchant for virgins. I prefer a willing and knowledgeable partner.”

“But tastes are subject to change,” she said with a smile, “especially in those so jaded as you. And you know I endeavor to please every appetite. Gentlemen of all tastes are welcome in my establishment. Anything you desire can be procured...for the right price, of course.”

“My own preference is easy enough to fill this night,” he replied. “I should like Salime.”

“Salime?” Her painted brows reached toward her bewigged hairline. “The Jewel of the East has become exceedingly popular. I fear her price has gone up considerably since you were here last.”

“Come now, Mrs. Hayes, when has price ever been an obstacle?”

“La!” She laughed, a shrill sound. “My apologies, my lord. I am a woman of business, after all, and not all my patrons are as free with their purses. Thus, I must be up front to ensure the satisfaction of all my guests.”

DeVere reached into his pocket and retrieved a coin purse, which he dropped wordlessly into the bawd’s hand. She weighed the gold with a wink and an effusive smile that displayed yellowing teeth. “I daresay this should more than suffice.”

***

The raven-haired siren reclined on a silk upholstered lit à la turque in a chamber littered with colorful tasseled pillows and brass lanterns, appointed in the same Oriental style as DeVere’s own private drawing room. She rose at once, losing all affectation of indolence, the moment he entered the chamber.

“Effendi! My lord! My heart is joyous!” She gushed and knelt at his feet.

He took her hand, assisting her to rise, and kissed it. “How are you, my dear Salime?”

“I have been well enough...but much better now to see you again.” She gave him a shy smile with her eyes demurely downcast. “I wondered if you had found another more to your liking—perhaps the fiery one who came during our last evening together?” She glanced up to meet his amused gaze.

“You are all too astute, my dear.” Ludovic chuckled. “It has much to do with the fiery one as you so aptly name her. But pray, let us not talk of it, for I have dire need of distraction of the kind only you can provide.”

“I exult to be the one chosen.”

“Your continued exuberance is enchanting,” he said. “I thought it may have diminished by now.”

“But it is only for you. The rest...” She gave a blithe half shrug and sauntered with a seductive sway of her hips to the carafe of wine standing at the ready beside the divan upon which she had reposed. She filled an ornate goblet and brought it to him, raising it to his lips. “I only delight in serving you, Effendi.”

“You flatter me,” he said and took a sip before accepting the goblet from her bejeweled hands.

She helped him out of coat, waistcoat, and cravat. “What is your pleasure this night, my lord?” She slowly licked her lush lips while moving her hand to the front of his breeches to gently cup his bollocks and tease his dormant shaft. He stayed her hand. “Not this time, my dear.”

She regarded him with befuddlement. “But it has been many days and you are a man of remarkable virility.”

Divested of his more restrictive outer garments, Ludovic lowered himself to recline on the large cushions scattered on the floor. He patted the space beside him, indicating she should join him. She sat cross-legged and drew his head onto her lap. He closed his eyes with a sigh as she massaged his temples and riffled her fingers through his hair.

At length, she asked, “Have you taken her as your mistress? Has the fiery one succeeded where all others failed?”

He cracked one eye open. “What the devil is that supposed to mean?”

“You know the secrets of women, my lord, how to touch and stroke and awaken the passions of the soul as well as the body, yet you, yourself, remain always unmoved. Has a woman finally touched you? Has one at last stirred your soul to waking?”