The Virgin Huntress (The Devil DeVere #2)(31)

“But your brother—”

Hew laughed. “My brother is an unquestionable reprobate, but even he has his idiosyncratic code when it comes to physical relationships. We are both the victim of our upbringing in that respect, and it is a very ugly thing.”

“In what way?”

“Not unlike many aristocratic marriages, our parents were notoriously unfaithful to one another. Our mother ran off with her lover when I was five. I was really too young to understand, but Ludovic took it very badly and developed a deep distrust of women. It’s why he refuses ever to wed. Our father threw himself deep into a life of dissipation after that, but his sins caught up with him.”

“How so?”

“He went mad from the pox.”

“Smallpox causes madness?”

“No, love, the French pox. Syphilis.”

“Syphilis?” She frowned. “I don’t know of this.”

“Nor should you. It’s a horrid disease, afflicting body and mind, causing a slow, lingering death. Vic has always been protective of me and isn’t aware that I know the true condition of our father. So you see, my brother has dealt with the past in his way and I in mine, by vowing to abstain until I found the woman I would spend my life with.”

“And you would have chosen Diana, had I not abducted you,” she said sadly.

He lifted her chin and kissed her softly. “And I would have made a grave mistake. You, indeed, saved me from my folly.”

“Do you truly believe that?” Her eyes glittered with emotion.

“Yes. Although I still respect and admire Diana, she did not incite the deeper feelings I have experienced with you, Vesta, feelings I would not have known existed had you not intervened.” He gave her a rueful smile. “To my chagrin, I think that grizzled, old jockey was right all along.”

“What are you saying, Captain Hewett DeVere?” Vesta asked.

“That although you are maddeningly infuriating...” He kissed her eyelid.

“You called me conniving—”

“Undoubtedly, you are.” He kissed the other eyelid. “But also exceedingly clever.”

“Imperious?” Her mouth formed a delectable moue.

“Delightfully impetuous,” he amended, plying another kiss to the hollow behind her ear.

“What about spoiled and petulant?”

“Inarguably so,” he murmured. “But also remarkably sensuous and passionate.” He twined a curl around his finger and kissed it. “Taken as a whole, my love, you are infinitely greater than the sum of your parts—and everything I didn’t know I needed.” He claimed her mouth now, deeply, passionately.

“Oh, Hew!” Vesta cried, tears streaming down her face. “I just knew you would come to your senses.”

He laughed and enfolded her in his arms. “I have, indeed, and I vow to cherish you all my life.”





EPILOGUE




DeVere House, Bloomsbury, 1783

“I’m sorry, madam, but his lordship is much occupied at the moment,” said the stony-faced butler barring Diana’s entrance.

“But I sent word to Lord DeVere hours ago!” she protested. “He was to have taken his goddaughter to the theater earlier this evening, but she has not returned and her maid has no recollection of anything! I insist on speaking with him immediately.” She folded her arms across her chest with a militant look. “I shan’t depart until I have.”

“If you will just permit me to deliver your message, I will be certain to convey the urgency of it.” The servant looked apologetic, but Diana wasn’t having it.

“I’m afraid the only message I have for his lordship must be delivered personally.” Seething with anger, fear, and frustration, Diana stormed past the stunned retainer. “Well,” she demanded, “will you conduct me, or must I search every chamber myself?”

The butler looked apoplectic. “Madam, Lord DeVere is in the midst of entertaining guests. It is a very private affair.”

She halted to turn blazing eyes upon the harried retainer. “And this is an urgent matter! Were it not so, I promise you, I would never have set foot in this disreputable abode.”

“Very well, madam.” He gave a resigned sigh. “May I please have your name, and I will inquire if Lord DeVere will receive you.”

“I will not give you my name! I refuse to have it bandied about among his guests. Pray tell him a lady is here regarding his goddaughter. He will certainly know who I am.”

***

“What the devil is it, Winchester?” Lord DeVere demanded. “I thought I communicated quite clearly that we were not to be disturbed.”

The flushing servant diverted his gaze to the ceiling in an obvious effort to ignore the ongoing orgy. “But there is a lady to see you, my lord. She is most insistent.”

DeVere gave a long, lazy pull on the stem of the hookah proffered by his scantily clad companion, whilst another enthusiastically employed herself with his pleasure.

“Another one?” Lord Malden chortled. “By all means, have him send the baggage in. Damn me, DeVere, but you are well supplied.”

“I am, indeed,” DeVere answered. “It is a most amicable arrangement with Madam Hayes, but I had not requested another.”