A Devil Named DeVere (The Devil DeVere) (8 page)

"Italy," Johnson murmured, a note of wistfulness in his voice. "Is it really so different there?"

"I have never been, but I have it straight from Thomas Patch who makes his livelihood painting portraits of English gentlemen on the grand tour, that none in Florence have ever looked askance at he and Horace. In Italy, we'll have no need to hide our love in shame."

Reggie cast a glance down the aisle in both directions. His voice lowered and grew almost unrecognizably thick. "As to that, are you quite certain we're alone here?"

"Aye, but they'll be readying the next lot of horses within the hour to take to the down."

"Will they, indeed? Then let us steal what time we may." They proceeded toward the empty boxes farther down and Diana heard the door of one of them slide open and close again, thereby muffling the voices. In a daze of incredulity, she exited her horse's box. Hugging the wall, she moved stealthily down the wide-cobbled aisle until she heard the low murmurs accompanied now by panting breaths.

Rising onto her toes, she peered over the top of the wall, and her stomach lurched. For between the iron bars, the truth of her fraudulent marriage flashed before her eyes. Reggie had Johnson in an impassioned embrace with their mouths melded in a lovers' kiss. The quivers of shock resonated through her in rivulets that fast became a raging torrent when the latter released her husband's erect penis from his breeches and went down on his knees.

Stifling her gasp with her fist, Diana fled the stables before her own legs buckled beneath her. She ran blindly back up the gravel path. What a bloody fool she'd been! How could she not have realized? She'd already known of Reggie's unnatural preference in the bedchamber, yet in her naiveté, she'd never fathomed that he might secretly be a sodomite. It was a whispered abomination, a crime against God and nature, a deadly sin preached from every pulpit that warranted the Old Testament penalty of death. It was nothing she ever could have foreseen touching her own life.

She reached the house, darting past the bewildered servants and scurrying up the staircase to the sanctuary of her own chambers. She only managed to close the door behind her when her tremulous body gave way. Closing her eyes in shock and mortification, she slid against the door into a crumpled heap, face buried in her hands. It was there alone that she finally broke down.

"Are you all
right, my lady?" Polly asked with a look of apprehension.

Diana knew she was a mess both inside and out. Weak and mildly nauseated from her exhausting emotional display, her eyes burned, and her hair hung limp and lank about her tearstained face. She needed no mirror to explain the maid's alarm. "Yes, Polly. I must have fainted," she lied. "But I'm fine now." She rose from the floor on shaky legs, brushing her skirts with trembling hands.

"Fainted?" The maid's brows rose to her hairline. "I've never known you to faint before, my lady. You don't think you could possibly be…"

Diana choked on a laugh, a half-crazed sound. "My dear Polly, of
that
I am certain."

Polly regarded her mistress with a concerned frown. "You don't look yourself at all, my lady. Mayhap you should take to your bed." Giving Diana no chance to resist, Polly looped a strong arm about her mistress's waist and guided her across the room to the adjacent bedchamber. "You sought his lordship
earlier," she said. "He returned to his apartments about an hour ago. I must say he was in much better humor than when he left this morning. Shall I call him for you?"

"No," Diana almost gasped. "I have no need of Lord Reggie. I'm sure a bath and a good night's rest will see me completely restored. Pray convey to Lady Chambers that I shan't join them for supper this evening."

"Would you have a tray sent to your room, then?" Polly asked.

"No, thank you." The thought of food almost made Diana retch. "If you will only call for hot water and help me to disrobe."

The hot bath that followed soothed her shattered nerves, or perhaps it was really the medicinal dose of brandy Polly produced which Diana threw back in one long and unladylike, draining draught. It burned its way from her throat to her belly, but then quickly filled her with a welcoming languor, thanks to her empty stomach. Diana's mind whirled with the various repercussions of her discovery.

Ten years together, and she had never had an inkling, yet having had time to overcome her initial shock, she saw that Reggie's behavior made perfect sense. She understood now that he had felt as trapped by their marriage as she, although he had
certainly had a choice in the matter. While Diana had wed him out of duty to her parents, she had known that Reggie's motives had been entirely mercenary. Through their marriage, Diana had provided him with a title, income, and substantial properties. She had satisfied his need to live as a gentleman in the hopes they would come to rub along together, but now she understood the impossibility of that and of the more private needs she could never satisfy.

Ten years of her life wasted. Her youth sacrificed waiting and hoping for something that could never be, that never had any chance to begin with—purely because she was a woman. He had
chosen
to live the lie, and for that, he had punished her. He had fed her self-doubts and insecurities daily by making her question her own worth as a wife, as a woman. She felt betrayed and dishonored, a realization that filled her with an impotent rage. If she were a man, she would deal with it in a man's way—with pistols at dawn— but she was a woman, a woman now in desperate need of vindication...of validation.

The recognition of this one simple fact, of her legitimate need to feel appreciated, to be desired, was somehow liberating and empowering. Perhaps it was the drink that falsely bolstered her confidence, for with a calm resolution she never would have
thought herself capable of, Diana determined to reclaim what had been taken from her.

***

The hour was well advanced when she approached the dressing table. She slipped off her night rail, and selecting her favorite scent of damask rose, strategically daubed the stopper at her neck—remembering with a shiver how his lips had grazed it—and then between the full breasts he had openly admired. She cupped them now, the weight of them heavy in her hands, and regarded her reflection, wondering what he would see, how he would react when she disrobed for him. Would she be all that he had imagined, or in some way disappointing? It took a conscious effort to tamp down the virulent doubts that threatened her resolve.

Forgoing the gown she'd discarded, Diana donned only her wrapper, a diaphanous silk. She took down her hair, riffling her fingers through the waves until they cascaded over her shoulders, and by the light of a single candle, ventured to the north wing apartments and Lord DeVere.

***

Ludovic raked an exasperated hand over his stubbled jaw and took a long drink. Although he wouldn't relish the nights he
would now spend palming himself, he had at last bid Caroline her overdue farewell. Lewd and adventurous, she'd been his longest bed partner, but he'd long become bored with her shallow vanity and irritated by her constant demands on his time and attention. Still, he didn't doubt Diana's arrival had been the final impetus for her dismissal. The frustration he now felt was a bittersweet penalty for his impetuous actions.

He didn't know what it was about Diana that got under his skin. She was handsome and voluptuous, the type that attracted him most, but he'd known women more beautiful and charming than she. Perhaps it was the heat he detected beneath that thick layer of icy reserve? His instincts were never wrong about that. No doubt it was also the challenge she presented, the difficulty of the conquest that appealed to him. He'd not been challenged by a woman in a very long time.

He hadn't seen the baroness since that morning and had no doubt that she was avoiding him. He wondered if he'd overplayed his hand in making his desire for her so clear. He'd ensured she had no doubt of his interest, several times even. He'd never known a woman to refuse his bed once his interest was made known
.
She was more than ripe for an amorous interlude. The air between them virtually crackled with sexual tension at every encounter. Yet still, she had demurred.
Damn her.

The thought of inciting her to embrace her darkest desires, to unleash her passion was the incarnation of his most erotic dreams. Bloody hell! It was enough to drive him mad. He couldn't remember the last time any woman had invoked such a carnal hunger. Damn, his cock throbbed at the thought of those magnificent white mounds. He wanted to pillow his face in them and suckle the dusky peaks while burying himself cock to balls inside her.

It was then that he saw movement. "Damn it, Caroline! I thought you had departed this afternoon for The Oaks. I've already made my sentiments perfectly clear. Why must you make this so bloody difficult?" Ludovic was incensed. He rose, setting his glass down with a decisive clink, but three paces revealed his error.

If he'd wanted Diana before, his desire was magnified tenfold by the vision of her in his bedchamber. Garbed in diaphanous silk that clung to every luscious curve, her russet waves fell in a wanton cascade over her shoulders. Eyes of moss-green regarded him with luminous trepidation. She had come to him at last. His cock twitched in eager anticipation for the answer to his most selfish prayers.

***

It was with a feeling of déjà vu that Diana entered the viscount's bedchamber. The rooms were much as she had envisaged in her dream, her footsteps muffled by the deep plush carpeting, the massive tester bed with its curtains drawn back, the flickering candle in her hand, except that when she drew near, she found the bed empty. Her heart dropped like a stone.

Her first thought was that he had not yet retired, but the house was deadly quiet, and Ned and Annalee had turned in hours ago. Then it dawned on her—
Caroline,
and Diana cursed herself for ten kinds of fool. She knew they were lovers. Why would she ever have imagined he would have gone to his bed alone, that he would be waiting for her? Especially after she had repulsed him, not once, but thrice.

Diana tried to convince herself that it was all for the best, that she was not the kind of woman to carry on an illicit intrigue and would only live to regret it if she had carried out her plan. But the truth was heart-sundering disappointment. She had wanted—no,
needed
this. Desperately. She turned to depart, but froze at the angry assault to her ears.

"Damn it, Caroline! I thought you had departed this afternoon for The Oaks. I've already made my sentiments
perfectly clear. Why must you make this so bloody difficult?"

She could find no voice to reply when he rose from the chair by the hearth and moved toward her with a purposeful stride. But he saw her and stopped dead in his tracks.

"You?"

"Yes. Me," she croaked from a throat made of sandpaper.

They stared at each other in interminable silence before his sensuous mouth formed a slow, wolfish smile. "Well, isn't this a surprise."

Her pulse raced. Her tongue darted nervously over her lips. "It was urgent that I see you."

"Urgent? Then why did you not sup with us? Surely we could have spoken then or shortly thereafter."

Her mind scrambled for an answer. "I wasn't well earlier."

His mouth curved a wicked turn. "You look exceedingly well to me." He took another step forward with a gaze that burned through the thin layer of silk to heat her skin beneath. He looked as if he would devour her whole.

Diana retreated two steps back, but it was not far enough to ease her sudden sense of vulnerability, nor the startling physical awareness of him.

"There is something you must know before the race tomorrow," she said.

He glanced at the mantel clock and regarded her with a sardonic lift of his brow. "By my account, tomorrow is already come."

"My apologies again for disturbing you at this late hour, but I had to speak in private. No one else must know of this."

"Disturbing me would be a vast understatement," he replied. "I find myself unusually agitated at your change of heart."

"You misunderstand," she said, the same heart now sounding a frantic beat for retreat. "This is about
the race.
Reggie has fixed it. He has bribed your jockey."

DeVere took possession of her hand, caressing her knuckles with his thumb. "I thank you for the warning, my dear." He drew her fingers to his mouth, kissing them with deliberate languor, his hot breath against her cool skin sending tremors racing up her arm. "But you worry needlessly. For I already know."

Her gaze fixed on his mouth. She tried in vain to ignore the warmth of it, the soft sensuous lips. "B-but how? How could you know? There was no one else about."

"I treat my people very well, and they are devoutly loyal to me for it."

Diana worried her lower lip. "What will you do now?"

"Whatever your heart desires."

She shook her head sharply, unsettled by his continued attempts to unbalance her with his persistent innuendoes. "I'm speaking of the race."

"The matter is taken care of."

"You have confronted Reggie?"

His face hardened. "No. I have quite another method of dealing with this."

"You won't tell me?"

"I will not. It is a most unpleasant topic that I would rather not dwell upon when there are far more fascinating subjects at hand." He stroked her cheek with the backs of his fingers, and she broke away from him with a strangled sound.

"That's not why I'm here. I came to protect my personal interests. To warn you about the race."

"In nothing but your wrapper? Tsk,
tsk, my pet. Untruths are so unbecoming. Yet it is precisely your most personal interests, your intimate needs, that are foremost in my mind right now."

She opened her mouth to protest, but he advanced and silenced her with a finger across her lips. He traced the curve of
her mouth with a whisper touch that made her ache for his kiss. His thumb lingered, caressing her lower lip and making it tingle with exquisite sensation. She closed her eyes and bit her tongue to suppress the urge to lick him.

"If I had had any doubts about you before..." he murmured, "they were laid to rest the instant I set eyes on that feckless husband of yours. There are no words to encompass his unworthiness of you, Diana. You were made to be worshipped. Say the word, and I swear to atone for the grievous neglect you've suffered."

He had spoken her own deepest feelings, her darkest desires. She averted her face in an attempt to ignore the heightened awareness of him. The big, strong, near-naked body. The powerful chest exposed by the loose banyan, the even more powerful urge to touch him.

"I've not given you leave—"

"To touch you? To address you with such intimacy?" He laughed. "You and I both know you crossed that boundary at the threshold to my bedchamber. Someone damn well needs to touch you, Diana. Someone,
preferably me,
needs to make amends for your husband's disgrace and fuck you senseless."

She stared at him, speechless.

"Don't look so affronted, my dear. I know how to give you profound pleasure, Diana. We both know that's why you came to me. You have only to admit it."

Her heart surged as he moved in for the kill with the ease of a practiced predator. Dipping his head, he drew her lower lip into his mouth, gently biting, sucking, and sending a jolt of molten lightning straight to her core. She melted into him with a whimper. He slowly released her with a feral gleam in his eye. "Just tell me you want me, and I will show you many ways I can please you until you beg for your release."