The Virgin Huntress (The Devil DeVere #2)(3)

“She is your goddaughter.”

“And I shall wait on her accordingly, but I expect you to do your part too.”

“Of course. I would be honored.”

“I still can’t believe Ned made such a cake of himself over a Covent Garden actress.”

“That would be Phoebe?” Hew asked.

“Yes. The damned fool up and married the chit when he surely could have enjoyed her without the leg shackles. Three years of celibacy surely affected his brain.”

“He has only a daughter. Perhaps he still seeks an heir. Speaking of which, do you never think of your own legacy?”

“It’s far too early, and I’m far too sober to contemplate such a topic. I generally prefer a couple bottles of port before waxing philosophic.”

“But what if you had not escaped the Turks? We are the last of the DeVeres, and you live recklessly. What if I’d been killed at Cowpens rather than just wounded?”

“Now that’s a highly disconcerting thought.”

“Precisely, Vic. You should wed. Just because one woman turned out to be a shameless grasping jade—”

Ludovic threw down his periodical with a scowl. “And wherever an ass falls, there he will never fall again.”

“I indeed marvel at that, Vic.” Hew beckoned the hovering footman for more coffee.

“That I have remained unwed?”

“No, that you are still an ass.” Hew grinned. “Although yet an unmated ass.”

“And that is precisely the state I intend to maintain. A man who lives alone is a god unto himself.”

“And a devil unto others.” Hew gave an exasperated sigh. Ludovic was six and thirty, Hew’s senior by eight years. With vast properties and a healthy fortune, he was expected to have settled down long ago, but following a jilt on the eve of his engagement, he had begun a downward spiral of drinking and whoring from which he’d never emerged. Now, over a dozen years later, it was his chosen lifestyle: drinking, whoring, and horses, that was. Ludovic’s one true, unwavering passion was his racing stud.

Hew studied his brother for a long, silent moment. “How can you wish to continue on indefinitely in this empty life you lead? You have an obligation, Vic. You should give the matter some serious reflection.”

Ludovic tipped his chair back with a devious grin. “Actually, dear brother, I already have.”

“What do you mean?” Hew asked. “You are going to take a wife at last?”

“No, dear boy.” Ludovic chuckled. “You are.”

It was a long moment before Hew could regain his powers of speech. “I can’t possibly have heard you correctly.”

“But I assure you, you did,” Ludovic said. “You see, I have thought about my obligation to ensure the propagation of little DeVeres and find I am not the slightest disposed to it. As matters stand, you would inherit all should anything unforeseen befall me. Therefore, Hew, I deem it your onus to get the heir.”

“But the title is your birthright.”

“And so it shall remain until my demise, which, by the by, I don’t hope for any time soon. Pursuant to that eventuality, however, you must ensure that I am not without an heir.”

“Me? You truly think to put this matter upon me?” Hew was astounded but not because he was opposed to the notion. On the contrary, unlike his brother who was completely hardened to women, Hew had long looked forward to taking a wife. He had even hoped to do just that once the war was over, and now with peace declared, only his finances remained an impediment.

“I can surely make it worth your while.”

“You would bribe me?” Hew asked.

“Let us call it an inducement. I mean to offer you a very generous settlement for your capitulation to enter the connubial state.”

“You are in earnest then?” Hew met his brother’s icy-blue stare with a cool one of his own, knowing it would be a grave error to show any eagerness. To do so would greatly diminish his negotiating power, but if he played his hand well, this strange turn of events could certainly enhance his future prospects. “How generous?”

“I am prepared to assign over the Staffordshire estate, one of the most productive of my holdings, and to place another thirty thousand in trust. You must, of course, sell your commission. It would be inconceivably inconvenient if you were to get yourself killed before completing your end of this bargain.”

“You need not fear on that score as I have just accepted the position of riding master to what remains of the Seventeenth Light Dragoons. It is a role in which I can function unimpaired by my injuries. But what of the broodmare?” Hew thought this too good to be true, that there must be a catch somewhere. “I can only assume you have someone already in mind.”

“Surprisingly, I do not,” Ludovic said. “I would not have you curse me the rest of your days. I shall let you enter hell by your own chosen path. I only ask that she be of good stock and bring a respectable dowry.”

“A broodmare with a fortune then. You know they say there is no greater rogue than a man who weds only for money.”

“And no greater fool than one who weds for love,” his brother quipped.

“Love does exist, you know,” Hew said.

“You waste your breath.”

Hew shrugged. “I hate to think you a hopeless case. You’ve never kept a mistress above a month, never formed any lingering romantic attachment. Tell me, Ludovic, is there anything you truly care about?”