The Virgin Huntress (The Devil DeVere #2)(32)

The servant flushed. “You misapprehend, my lord. This lady—”

“Will not be turned away.” Diana stepped into the room behind the agitated servant and almost choked at her first glimpse of her quondam lover in over four years. With jaw gaping, she surveyed a scene that could have been stolen from an Ottoman sultan’s seraglio. The room, hazed with smoke and the exotic essence of incense, was illuminated with the glow of brass lanterns. The ceiling and walls were draped in myriad hues of silk while Turkish rugs and cushions scattered the floor. Surrounded by this oriental decadence was Ludovic DeVere, sprawled indolently on his Turkish divan, surrounded by half-nude women and several of his boon companions engaged in various and sundry acts of debauchery.

DeVere looked to her with a narrowed gaze, and Diana was infinitely grateful for the black veil that obscured her face. “Put your playthings away, my pet,” she heard him command the woman kneeling between his legs, “for we have an unexpected guest.”

“So this is what you have reduced your life to, my lord?” Diana said with icy hauteur.

“It is fortunate that I don’t give a damn for your opinion, madam.” He caressed the bare breast of his would-be odalisque and gave Diana a lazy smile. He took another pull on the hookah, blowing purple-cast smoke rings into the air. “Now, to what do I owe the privilege of your queenly condescension?”

Diana fumed under his mockery. “How dare you ignore my messages and compel me to come to this...this...den of iniquity!”

He chuckled. “It was your choice to invade my domain. Thus, it is not for me to concern myself with your injured sensibilities. I already conveyed to you that the girl is safe. There was nothing further to be said.” He gave a bland lift of his brow.

“Nothing further! Where is she? She was last in your charge and has not returned! I found her maid locked in her room! If anything has happened to her—”

“I assure you she is perfectly safe in my brother’s keeping.”

“Hew is involved in this? I don’t believe it. He would never— DeVere’s mouth kicked up in the corner. “Perhaps I misspoke. It would be vastly more correct to say he is in hers.”

Diana felt her forehead pucker in befuddlement. “What on earth are you talking about?”

“When Vesta revealed to me that she was determined to have Hew, I agreed to lend some small assistance in the matter.”

“That’s ludicrous! Vesta hasn’t even had her come-out. It is far too soon for her to be thinking of anyone!”

“Nevertheless.” He shrugged.

“Is that all you have to say?”

“For the nonce. Conversation is not my chief pursuit at the moment, but should you be inclined to join me...”

The look he gave her send rebellious quivers to a place low in her belly, a sensation she was quick to quell. He had always incited such conflicting feelings in her—part loathing mixed with a greater portion of lust. She despised that he still had such power over her even after four years.

“You revile me!” Diana spat. “I will expect your call with a full explanation on the morrow. Perhaps you will be more inclined to converse at nine o’clock?”

“An ungodly hour. I doubt I shall have risen before two.”

Diana spun toward the door. “You will call, my lord, or you will much regret my methods of rousing you.”

“I doubt that, my dear. You may rouse me any way you like.”

The room rumbled with snickers and guffaws.

“A tolerable, handsome figure,” Lord Malden remarked to her departing back, “but a tongue like a shrew. Perhaps you can teach her a better means of employing it, eh, DeVere?”

Diana paused, her hand on the door, and turned to confront her detractors. “Better a shrew than a sheep, my lord.” She gave a pointed look toward DeVere. “For hapless sheep are devoured by ruthless wolves.”





EXCERPT FROM THE DEVIL YOU KNOW




Coming from Breathless Press July 27, 2012

Vauxhall Pleasure Gardens, 1768

The melodious strains of the Corelli air grew fainter, the lamps swaying gently in the evening breeze sparser, and the tree-lined pathway narrower, while the stars glimmered in the clear night sky like diamonds against black velvet. It was all seemingly custom ordered for the two couples meandering the lesser-travelled Lovers’ Walk. While the first pair perambulated arm-in-arm, pausing upon occasion to steal a laughing kiss, the second lagged farther and farther behind until the young lady caused their progress to halt altogether. “Ouch! Pray stop,” she cried, clutching her companion’s arm.

“What is it, Caroline?” asked Ludovic, Lord DeVere.

“Only a minor nuisance. I’ve a pebble in my shoe.” The couple ahead, Sir Edward and Lady Annalee Chambers, immediately turned back. “No, no.” Lady Caroline waved them onward with a smile. “Don’t trouble yourselves. Pray go on ahead. I just need to find a bench where I might remove my slipper. We’ll catch up with you directly.”

Lady Chambers looked to her husband with hesitation. “I don’t know... I would hate to be deemed a negligent chaperone.”

The two men exchanged a conspiratorial look.

“I promise she is in good hands with me, Annalee,” Lord DeVere reassured. “Why don’t we just meet up with you at the Ruins of Palmyra?”