The Trouble With Sin (Devilish Vignettes (the Devil DeVere) #2)(18)

"I have most portentous news, DeVere," Ned sputtered with excitement. "News I could hardly relay by messenger. So I came down myself."

"What kind of news? Out with it, Chambers," Ludovic commanded.

"Mayhap you should pour us a drink first."

Ludovic lifted a sardonic brow. "A drink? Not so urgent after all?"

"'Tis fortification you'll need for the shock you're about to receive."

"Shock? Me? You know I am not easily shocked, Ned." Ludovic paused with his hand on the brandy decanter and a slight frown marring his face. "Come to think of it, I'm damned if I can recall a single occasion that has wrought from me such a profound reaction as shock."

Ned flung himself into Ludovic's favorite chair. "There's a first for everything, DeVere. Now that drink?"

Ludovic sloshed amber liquid into two glasses, handing one to the would-be herald, who downed it in one draught. Ludovic quirked a brow.

"It was a devilish long ride," Ned explained.

"All to deliver this shocking report of yours?" Ludovic perched a hip on the corner of his mahogany desk.

"Yes! It's Lazarus all over again!"

"Lazarus? Am I to surmise that someone has been miraculously raised from the dead?"

"Actually, he might as well have been," Ned declared. "I can hardly countenance it after all this time."

"You are trying my patience, Ned."

"It's Simon. He's returned."

"Good God!" The glass slipped from Ludovic's hand to shatter at his feet. "You can't mean Sin is alive after all this time? He was pronounced killed in action six years ago."

"I mean exactly that!" Ned exclaimed. "He is indeed alive and may even be in London as we speak. I have the news straight from Baron Singleton. His ship was expected to arrive several days ago."

"Why am I only hearing of this now? I see the bloody Singleton regularly at Parliament."

"Probably because the good baron doesn't like you, DeVere. He believes you were an abominable influence on his son."

"Then he would be right." Ludovic smirked and then stared at the shattered glass at his feet.

"Looking a bit white there, my friend. This is known as shock."

"Admittedly, I am incredulous. How can this be? Where the devil has he been?"

"Interned as a prisoner of war, I am told."

"For six years? In all that time there were no exchanges?"

"Very few. The colonials refused to give up ours when they claimed their men were only released on the point of death. I daresay 'tis no exaggeration. I've seen a number of reports on the deplorable conditions of our prison hulks. It's said that the Colonial prisoners set fire to the Whitby, choosing to go down in flames, rather than die of starvation and disease." Ned shook his head. "What a hellish business war is."

"But still, if Sin was a prisoner, he should have been released nigh on a year ago when the treaty was signed."

"Apparently he was too ill to travel. Only made it as far as Bermuda before he was struck with the bloody flux or some such and required months of convalescence…poor sod."

"We must go to him, Ned. At once."

"He'll not be the same man," Ned voiced what they were both thinking.

"No." Ludovic shook his head. "Likely never again."

(END EXCERPT)