The Devil You Know

The Devil You

Know

The Devil DeVere

Book 3

Victoria Vane

Breathless Press

Calgary, Alberta

www.breathlesspress.com

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and

incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are

used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any

resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or

persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

The Devil You Know

Copyright© 2012 Victoria Vane

ISBN: 978-1-77101-804-3

Cover Artist: Victoria Miller

Editor: T. S. Chevrestt

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used

or reproduced electronically or in print without written

permission, except in the case of brief quotations

embodied in reviews.

Breathless Press

www.breathlesspress.com

Dedication

To all my wonderful and supportive friends at Goodreads (you know

who you are).

I live only to entertain you!

Acknowledgements:

This book and series would never have been possible without the sup-

port of those who believe in me, especially my loving and hard-working

husband John, and my faithful and dedicated editor, Tara Chevrestt

Prologue

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 who meandered the lesser-

traveled 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 cou-

ple ahead, Sir Edward and Lady Annalee Chambers, immediately

turned back.

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The Devil You Know

“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 De-

Vere reassured. “Why don’t we just meet up with you at the Ruins

of Palmyra?”

Lady Chambers’ brows met in a frown until her husband

whispered something reassuring in her ear. Her mouth formed a

perfect O, and then she smiled. “Very well, then. Ned and I will

walk slowly, but pray don’t be
too
far behind.”

Waiting until the Chambers disappeared into the darkness,

the remaining couple cast a last furtive glance up and down the

path to ensure their privacy before coming together in a fierce and

impassioned embrace. Panting, clutching, and moaning between

fervent kisses, the lovers backed deeper into the privacy of the

trees, tugging at cravat and laces, tearing at clothes.

Her bodice loosened, DeVere freed Caroline’s breasts from

their confinement and pulled a nipple eagerly into his mouth. She

threw her head back with a cry and groped for the placket of her

lover’s breeches. He raised his head from her half-bared bosom

with a groan and halted her progress by encircling her delicate

wrist in his iron grip.

“What a delightful wanton you are, but if you seek proof of

my desire, I’ve already given you undeniable evidence. There’s

no need to torture me further.”

“But I have a very special birthday gift for you, my darling.”

“Do you, indeed?” he asked, his interest growing in tandem

with his erection.

She glanced down with a half-smile at the huge bulge in his

breeches. “I want to
feel
your desire, Ludovic.” She ran her fingers

leisurely up the length of him and brazenly cupped his straining

cock through his breeches. “Oh my,” she voiced her delight as if

she’d discovered an unexpected bounty.

Damn the vixen! ‘Oh my’ isn’t the half of it.
He was already hard

as a rock, and her boldness only pulled at his last shreds of re-

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straint. He was actually
trying
to behave with circumspection…

for a change.

“Yes,” she gushed. “A
very
special gift.”

“You play with fire, Caroline,” he warned. “You know we

mustn’t take this much further.”

She met his gaze with a guileless expression. “You
do
intend

to marry me, don’t you?”

“I have already asked to speak to your father. Surely, he

knows my purpose.”

“He won’t have the slightest objection to your suit, I assure

you. Papa only wishes to see me happy and will agree to whom-

ever I choose…so long as he’s noble…and rich,” she added with

a laugh. “So what harm is there in seeking a bit of pleasure while

we can?”

She removed his hand from her breasts and brought it to her

lips. Wetting it with her little pink tongue, she slowly drew his

index finger into the hot confines of her mouth. Her other hand

squeezed the bulge in his breeches.

Ludovic ground his teeth. “Methinks you don’t know what

you do, Caro.”

She sucked harder, sending a jolt of molten lust to his throb-

bing staff and then withdrew his finger, using it to trace a sen-

suous path over her full mouth. She gave him a slow, evocative

smile. “But that’s where you are quite wrong, my darling. I assure

you, I know
exactly
what to do.”

Words filled with prurient promise.
Bugger it all!
Ludovic

flung his best and most expensive silk frockcoat to the ground,

spreading it wide for her to kneel upon, a willing sacrifice to the

gods of pleasure. With her gaze fixed upon his face, Caroline low-

ered herself to her knees, plucking her gloves off with her perfect,

little teeth while he manically struggled with the straining buttons

holding his jutting cock at bay. Once freed, his entire hot, hard

length sprang forth into her hand.

She slid it slowly up and down his shaft. “I don’t know who

has the better gift, you or I.” She chortled, low and husky. Gazing

into his eyes, she darted out her tongue, stroking the underside

of his length, teasing him with little flicks and darts. He inhaled

sharply, his cock reflexively jerking in her hand. With a look of

devilment, she slowly circled his crown of smooth flesh between

her parted lips.

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The Devil You Know

“Dear God in heaven.” He threw his head back with a groan.

His bollocks contracting in anticipation, he clasped her nape in

encouragement.

“And the same heaven awaits you,” she murmured before

taking him slowly and completely into her delicious and deca-

dent mouth.

“There you are, my

***

dears!” exclaimed Lady Capheaton when

the two couples returned to their supper box. “I’d begun to fear

you’d become lost.” Lady Capheaton gave her daughter’s escort

a scathing look.

“Pray forgive us, Mama. It is entirely my fault, “Lady Caro-

line said. “I didn’t mean to worry you, but I was so completely

engrossed by the mural of the Ruins of Palmyra. Lord DeVere has

been there, you know, to nearly all the ancient ruins. When I dis-

covered him a veritable fount, I took obscene advantage of him.”

She looked to him with artless innocence, and DeVere thought he

would swallow his own tongue
. Fount, indeed! She nearly sucked

me dry.

In one night, his proposed bride-to-be had revealed a depth of

cunning and guile he never would have thought she possessed. In

truth, their entire assignation had been purely her design, a rev-

elation as equally disturbing and sublime as was the expert skill

with which Caro had brought him to completion.

But while he’d initially been excited by her lively sense of ad-

venture and even more delighted to know he wouldn’t experience

a cold marriage bed, her actions now provoked myriad questions.

Foremost was just how she had come by such intimate, carnal

knowledge. Although Ludovic had never possessed a jealous na-

ture, he had also never entertained the notion of sharing his fu-

ture wife with another man. That one, or
more,
may have already

preceded him was both irksome and highly disconcerting.

“We have an especial guest who has been patiently awaiting

your return, Caroline.” Lady Capheaton’s voice interrupted his

ruminations.

“Oh? And who might that be, Mama?” Caroline asked with

barely veiled disinterest.

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Victoria Vane

“Why, it’s his Grace of Beauclerc who honors us with his

presence,” Lady Capheaton answered in her cloyingly sycophan-

tic style.

A mincing, middle-aged dandy broke from conversation with

Caroline’s father with a sweep of his leg and a flourishing bow.

His coat cut from midnight velvet, his red-heeled shoes adorned

with diamond buckles, and his elaborately-embroidered silk

waistcoat could only have come from Paris. Caroline’s eyes wid-

ened in surprise while the duke’s glimmered with interest.

“Then I am honored, indeed, Your Grace.” Caroline abruptly

released Ludovic’s arm to puddle her petticoats in a deep obei-

sance to the duke.

“My dearest Lady Caroline.” The duke took her hand as she

rose, smoothing his lips over her fingers. “The reports of your

pulchritude were sadly understated.” Ludovic noted a display of

uneven and discolored teeth when he spoke.

“The duke is an old and dear friend of your father’s and newly

widowed,” Lady Capheaton explained to her daughter. “Recently

out of mourning, he has come to join our party with a particular

desire to meet you.”

“You honor me too much, Your Grace,” Carline replied

breathily, fluttering her lashes over modestly downcast eyes.

What the hell is the vixen playing at? Does she think to make me

jealous?
Ludovic discarded the notion as meritless, as he’d already

expressed his intent to wed her. He stepped forward to put an end

to the game and was met with the duke’s supercilious stare. Until

that moment, Ludovic had watched the interaction between the

duke and the Capheatons with a sense of detached amusement,

but the haughty stare sent his hackles rising as if they were a pair

of gamecocks being set-to for a match.

“I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure.” Beauclerc lifted a pen-

ciled brow.

“DeVere,” he answered.

“The Viscount?” asked the duke.

“His heir,” Ludovic volunteered more defensively than he

would have liked. He made a second effort to mark his claim.

“The Lady Caroline and I have just returned from a most
delight-

ful
little promenade.”

The penciled lines became ludicrous squiggles. “Have you,

indeed?”

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The Devil You Know

Casting Ludovic a reproachful look, Caroline blurted, “Lord

DeVere refers to the Ruins of Palmyra. From a distance, one would

surely believe it real. It is so life-like, it stirs the blood. Have you

seen it, Your Grace?”

“I don’t believe I have,” the duke answered. “But since it is a

while yet before the illuminations, perhaps you could show it to

me?” He offered her his velvet-clad arm.

Caroline’s gaze flicked from Ludovic to the duke and back

again. Her lips formed the slightest moue as if she weighed upon

the scales of her mind the relative merits of a mere viscount-to-be