A Devil's Touch (3 page)

Chapter Two

With the temperature dropping and foul weather threatening, Ludovic and Ned departed Kent by coach. They spent the first couple of hours in laughter and fond reminiscing about their youthful days when they—with Simon—had wreaked havoc upon Westminster School. After then catching up on family matters, a companionable silence settled between them, allowing each to drift into solitary thought.

While Ludovic tried to maintain focus on Simon, the purpose of their trip, he couldn't quite lay aside his concerns about Diana. Although he had never been known for self-restraint, he was determined to keep her needs above his own and his hands off her—even if it killed him. Still, he had little trust in physicians and wondered if Ned had suffered the same extended period of sexual abstinence. "Ned," he finally ventured, "there is a matter plaguing me."

"Oh?" Ned's brows rose.

"Yes. One in which you are vastly more knowledgeable than I."

Ned looked bemused. "That's quite a confession, DeVere. I can't imagine what it might be."

"Breeding women," Ludovic replied.

"Ah." Ned nodded in understanding. "I am no expert, by any means. I doubt that any man is—but I agree they can be a trial. Happy one moment, crying the next. A man must exercise a great deal of patience with a pregnant wife."

"As you well know, patience has never been my strong suit."

Ned chuckled. "No indeed. But you must be tolerant with her changing moods."

"That's not quite the kind of patience I mean."

"Oh?" Ned gave a knowing smile. "I thought I detected a note of edginess. You must be referring to—"

"Yes. Damn it! How long must I wait? The damnable accoucheur has all but forbidden me to touch her."

"Is she that far advanced?"

"He says her time will arrive by month's end."

"Still weeks away then. So Diana has put you off?"

"Diana? No. Not precisely, but she's very fatigued. Retires early. Sleeps late."

"And she wants none of you in between?"

DeVere glowered. "I have not approached her."

Ned laughed. "Your mistake then, ole chum. Although women vary considerably in these matters, I found that unlike my frail Annalee, dear Phoebe, God bless her, was exceedingly amorous until the very end."

"What are you saying, Ned? That you fucked your wife until her delivery?"

"Crude as ever, DeVere, but yes. Indeed the very same day she gave birth to little Ned. The midwife even encouraged it, telling Phoebe that conjugal relations would relax her passage and ease the delivery."

"Bloody hell! That is completely contrary to what I was told by the man considered the foremost authority. I brought down James Ford, the bloody physician extraordinary to the Westminster Lying-In hospital, to examine Diana."

Ned shrugged. "Nevertheless, nature is oftimes superior to science."

Ludovic growled. "I'll string that sodding quack up by the bollacks when I next see him!"

"I do pity the man," Ned replied with martyr's sigh. "But not as much as myself at the moment."

"What the devil does that mean?" Ludovic snapped.

"It means we should stop for a drink along the way. I shall undoubtedly need something to help me bear your insufferable temper until you return to Diana's bed."

***

Diana paced and fretted for two entire days. The sheet of foolscap she carried about in her pocket had nearly disintegrated from the number of times she had read and crumpled it. At one point she had even thought to consign it to the flames. She had tossed it into the hearth, but then rescued it at the very last second. The letter was the source of her greatest pain, but also the source of her strength, for without it as evidence, she would never be able to confront him. She would hear only what she wanted to hear from his lips, allowing her heart to deny the bald truth that stared at her in delicate strokes of black ink.

She had tried to banish all misgivings when she entered her marriage, but fragments lingered. Ludovic was restless and easily bored by nature. His temperament, unlike hers, was not well suited to domesticity. He had confessed as much many times before their marriage. Diana had accepted she could never change his nature, yet had hoped that out of her love for him, he would come to feel a certain fulfillment in his new role of husband and father. Perhaps she had been a fool to think it.

At first she had believed Ludovic reluctant to leave her for London, had imagined a certain wistful look upon their parting, but now she wondered if it was only her wishful fancy. The more she considered it, the more convinced she was, for had he not departed within two hours of Edward's arrival? Still, there remained a singular piece she could not puzzle out—Edward.

Had Edward truly brought tidings of a former comrade or had he delivered the letter from Salime? No. That was inconceivable. He was like a brother to Diana and never would be a willing party to any act of duplicity or a conspirator to infidelity. But why in all this time had she never even heard the name of Simon Singleton? Was it simply reticence on their part to speak of a man they presumed dead?

And the letter from Salime? Could its delivery have been purely coincidence? Of all people, of all Salime’s lovers, why in the world had she
written to
DeVere?
Was this the first correspondence, or had she written before? Salime had never made any secret of her love for him, feelings Diana had believed unrequited…until now.

Was Salime truly in need, or could it be a clever ploy to draw him away from his wife at a propitious time? A time when he would be supremely vulnerable to her exotic wiles? Knowing how Salime felt about her husband, Diana could not trust the woman. She only prayed that if he had indeed gone to her, the honorable side of his nature, the one he had oftimes suppressed, would ultimately prevail.

***

DeVere House, Bloomsbury Square, the same night

It was very late when Ludovic arrived at DeVere House. He and Ned had required several drinks after seeing Simon—the poor wretched sod. Six years in captivity! Ludovic shook his head. Bloody hell. It was enough to destroy any man, let alone one like Simon—a man with a poet's heart.

He had no sooner handed hat and coat off to the lone servant keeping the empty house then Salime rushed to kneel before him in the vestibule, kissing his hand. "
Effendi!
You have come at last!"

"But of course," he replied, raising her to her feet. "You must know I would never deny you my aid." In truth, he had nearly forgotten her in his morose musings about Simon.

"But I feared with your marriage…that
khanum
…" She bit her lip.

DeVere felt a peculiar twinge at the mention of his wife. It was not as if he had purposely kept this interview from Diana. He had simply overlooked the matter in his hasty departure. "As I do not have a complete understanding of it myself, I have yet to explain your situation to Diana, but I am certain she would not have me turn my back on you. "Come, Salime." He took her gently by the elbow. "We will retire to share the hookah. Then you will tell me what is troubling you…and how I might assist."

For close to an hour Salime sat cross-legged at his feet, tending the pipe, while he reclined on a divan, smoking and slowly drawing the story from her. "In the end, you will see it is all for the best, my dear." He blew purple-cast smoke rings in the air. "You deserve much better than to be a mere plaything to rich and idle men."

"But it is what I was trained for
, Effendi
, to serve a man's pleasure. It is all I know, and I am not ashamed in this. Where I come from, such skills are not only a woman's sole means to achieve a measure of comfort, but to please the sultan and to be raised to the place of favorite mistress or
haseki
is the greatest of honors—only exceeded by becoming a
kadin
."

"A wife," he said, musing now of Diana–alone in their bed—and wanting her fiercely.

"One of four wives," Salime corrected. "In my country, to serve the sultan, whether as mistress or wife, is to ensure a lifetime of ease and security, but the English ways are different. Here a mistress has no security and is as readily cast aside as a worn slipper."

"I wish I could argue the truth of it, but even a shoe can be re-soled before it's cast aside."

"Such is true if one has a protector to pay the debt to the cobbler. I did not."

"What will you do now?" he asked.

"I do not yet know,
Effendi
. I had hoped…" She gazed up at him longingly.

Fearing she would voice what clearly shone in her eyes, he quickly shook his head. "I'm sorry, my dear." He stroked her cheek to lessen the blow. "The English ways
are
different in regard to mistresses and wives."

She arched a brow. "Not so very different,
Effendi.
Many men have mistresses and lovers. Why else would such as King's Place exist?"

"Point taken," he said with a tight smile.

Struggling to suppress his own needs— needs that he knew she would enthusiastically gratify— he avoided her direct gaze, concentrating instead on the colorful silk wall coverings, the low burning brass lamps. "What I meant is that not
all
wives accept a man's philandering ways. There are some who expect, nay,
demand
, exclusivity…fidelity."

Ever demure, she looked down at her hands. "
Khanum
, the fiery one. She is such a wife?"

"Aye, Salime. And I have sworn my lasting fidelity. I would not break my vow to her even if I wanted to—
which I do not
. My desire is
only
for Diana." He took another long draw on the hookah.

"She is the most fortunate of women,
Effendi,
to merit such devotion."

"My so-called devotion is perhaps a two-edged sword." He chuckled, but then grew sober at her frown. "Given a choice, Salime, would you not also prefer only
one
man?"

"You know that choice was taken from me,
Effendi,
" she said sadly. "No man would willingly look daily upon this face." She traced the scar she kept hidden from the world. "Even
you
who I thought might…"

He scowled. "Your scar has nothing to do with my decision to forego a mistress, Salime. I think you already know that. But surely there is another man who can see the true jewel that you are—"

"There is none!" she cried. "Only a
woman
has eyes to see the beauty beneath the skin."

He grimaced and handed her the stem. "You believe all men to be so shallow?"

She returned a sad smile and then drew again from the pipe.

Although surrounded by a haze of smoke, in that moment a cloud lifted from his formerly muddled mind. The answer was so perfect. So clear. Ludovic had to tamp down a chuckle at his own brilliance. "But what if there
was
such a man, Salime? One capable of perceiving the greater beauty within?"

Salime snorted again. "What if camels could fly,
Effendi?
"

"Salime, I would ask a boon of you."

She responded without hesitation, "You know I would do anything for you,
Effendi.
"

"Thank you, my dear. But perhaps you would hear me out first?"

"As you wish."

"I have a friend, a very dear friend, with a grave dilemma. It is an affliction which requires a unique kind of healing."

"He is in need of a physician?"

"No. The quacks can do nothing for him. Although he physically suffers, it is not truly a physical ailment."

"You mean he is touched in the head,
Effendi
?"

"No." Ludovic paused, struggling to explain what he himself did not fully comprehend. "He may believe himself so, for he experienced a great deal of torment that lasted a number of years, but, I don't think it's as bad as all that. "

"I am no healer. I do not understand what you would ask of me."

"I only wish for you to be his companion, Salime. He is in great want of one who understands a man's deepest needs. I am of the belief that
you alone
could relieve his distress."

"Me? You have such confidence,
Effendi?"

 "I have
every
confidence in you, my dear. Simon means a great deal to me. Should you accept this proposition, I would be exceedingly pleased. Moreover, I would provide you most generous compensation."

"It is not for the money that I accept," Salime said. "It is for
you
,
Effendi.
You have asked this of me, so how can I refuse?"

He returned a soft smile. "I pray, Salime, that one day you meet a man who will prove himself worthy of such devotion."

Chapter Three

Diana was still awake when the sound of iron-shod hooves echoed a clatter over the cobbles below. She ran to the window just as the lamp-bearing footman moved to lower the step of the carriage, but in a typical display of impatience, Ludovic leaped from the vehicle before he had a chance. Her husband then gestured some commands with brisk motions before advancing with rapid strides toward the house. Her gaze tracked every movement until he was lost from view.

Diana pulled on her dressing gown, deciding to confront him straightaway, rather than waiting another night nurturing suspicions and resentment. She couldn't continue like this, couldn't live with the uncertainty of his fickle affections…of his fidelity.

Only three months before, she had been fully prepared to rear their child on her own, but then he had come to her, voicing everything her heart yearned for—sweet promises she never expected to hear from his beautiful lips. He had vowed to love, honor, and cherish her—to forsake all others, and she had drunk in every intoxicating word, until giddiness filled her very being. But now these same vows were her sword and shield. With them Diana was armed to face Ludovic and would wield them mercilessly in her fight for her marriage.

***

Ludovic was exhausted. He had left DeVere House near midnight—after he and Ned had gotten Sin foxed enough to abduct him from the rooms he had refused to leave. They had remained at DeVere House only long enough to see their friend comfortably installed in DeVere's own luxurious chambers, where Simon would awake to find himself in Salime's tender care.