“Do you truly mean that, Hew?” she whispered, misty-eyed.
“With all my heart. Please let us be wed at once.”
“But Papa—”
“Should be arriving any day,” Lord DeVere supplied as he descended the stairs. “I confess I am impressed, Hew. I never knew that beneath that hardened soldier’s veneer lay the heart of a poet. Such a touching display. I was almost moved to retrieve my handkerchief.”
“Sod off, Vic.” Hew glowered.
“Not my usual preference,” Ludovic shot back. “Now if you lovebirds are quite finished, I have a pledge to keep. Let us depart for Upper Grosvenor.”
***
“So you see, Aunt Di,” Vesta explained, “Captain Hew is not to blame for any of this. It was completely my idea.”
Ludovic sat back, studying the scene with an amused smile, a glass of claret dangling between his fingers, and one booted ankle crossed over his knee.
Diana looked aghast. “I can’t believe it,” she said. “What could have possessed you to do such a thing?”
“Does it really matter now?” DeVere interceded on Vesta’s behalf. “They wish to wed, so it’s all just water under the bridge.”
“No, it is not!” Diana retorted. “I can only believe you contrived this!”
“Me?” he asked with feigned affront. “How can you blame me?”
“You have unduly exercised your influence over the poor girl, for Vesta is far too young to know her mind. She cannot possibly wed so soon. She hasn’t even had her come-out for heaven’s sake! And you, Captain DeVere”—she turned blazing eyes on Hew—”I cannot believe you accept this situation with such aplomb when you had no interest in Vesta only days ago.” Her gaze narrowed. “Indeed, I begin to think you as capricious as your brother when only a short while before, you were paying your address to—”
Hew flushed. “My apologies if my sudden turn-about offends you, but please, believe my feelings for Vesta are unwavering and true. And come what may, I promise to claim full culpability for my part in this escapade when Sir Edward arrives.”
DeVere added, “At the risk of further affront to your injured sensibilities, madam, it matters not a whit what you think of me or my brother; it is for the girl’s father to decide. And I can see no good reason for Ned to object to Hew.”
Diana gave both DeVeres a resentful glare before capitulating. “Very well. I suppose there’s nothing more to be done until Sir Edward arrives, but I think it would do Hew and Vesta both a great deal of good to take a few days to let passions cool and reflect upon this. Marriage should not be entered into frivolously. So I ask that you respect my wishes to refrain from seeing one another for a few days.”
“But, Aunt Di!” Vesta protested.
“She’s right, my love,” said Hew, squeezing Vesta’s hand. “What are a few days when we have our entire lives to look forward to together?”
“May we at least have a moment alone?” Vesta pleaded. “Just a few minutes in the garden? Please, Aunt Di.”
“What harm can there be?” Ludovic asked, glancing from the couple to Diana, who visibly bristled at him. He knew she didn’t wish to concede for that would also place her alone with him. “Given my brother’s eagerness to see the knot tied, I daresay any damage has already been done.”
The younger couple colored and exchanged guilty glances.
“Five minutes,” Diana said tersely. “Not a moment longer.”
Vesta nodded and seemed to glow when Hew offered his arm.
“Edward will not like this at all,” Diana remarked after the couple had departed out the terrace door.
“But he will accept it nonetheless,” DeVere countered.
“I never could have pictured Hew and Vesta,” she said. “But I daresay they seem to have grown fond of one another, which I suppose gives them as good a chance as any of making a go of it.”
“So cynical, Diana?”
“I have reason, as you well know, but isn’t the pot calling the kettle black?”
He laughed. “Mayhap so, for I have little faith in the institution of marriage. Had I my choice, I would abolish it altogether.”
“And pray, what would that accomplish other than creating a country teeming with illegitimate children?”
“At least there would be no stigma to bastardy,” he said blandly. “All would equally fall under the bar sinister.”
“And who do you suppose would take responsibility for all these unnamed children?”
“Were we to adopt the ways of the East, as in the sultan’s harem, they would be raised all together. It’s rather a hedonistic ideal, is it not?”
“You do not believe a man should provide for his own offspring?” she asked with disdain.
“Certainly he should...” Ludovic retrieved an enameled snuffbox from his pocket, a memento from his days in Paris, and studied the bawdy picture on the lid. “...if he can be certain they are truly his. In this country, the law covers a multitude of sins, for a man has no choice but to claim another’s bastard if he and the woman are wed at the time. In Constantinople, the law protects a man from the injustice of raising another’s bastard.” He took a pinch of his favorite custom blend, replaced the box in his pocket, and shook out his lace cuffs.
“And how is that contrived?” she asked.
“A sultan is permitted to take four wives to provide his heirs and then numerous concubines to provide his pleasure. He is required to provide for the material wants of all the women and children under his care. In return, they are kept segregated from any other males, save eunuchs. To even speak to any of these women can merit a penalty of death.”
Her lips thinned. “A hundred women enslaved to one man? And kept confined for life? You speak as if you condone this barbaric practice.”
He laughed. “It is highly effective to ensure fidelity, for it ensures that the sultan’s sexual needs are met within his own home. Thus, he has no reason to stray outside of it.”
“What of the women’s needs and desires?” she asked.
He shrugged. “It is a man’s world, Diana. They may not have the freedom that English women enjoy, but they are well cared for.”
“Do you honestly believe this is the only way to ensure faithfulness?”
“Yes, in my experience,” he said. “I do not believe in lasting fidelity. When passion fades, lovers, even married ones, inevitably stray. What then is left?”
“Affection? Companionship?” she offered.
He waved a bejeweled hand. “Readily supplied by a pack of spaniels.”
“If you have such antipathy toward marriage, why would you encourage your brother to wed?” Diana stood and walked toward the window, presumably to check on her charge.
“Because I have a responsibility to ensure the propagation of little DeVeres, the continuation of the line, so to speak. Since Hew and I are all that remains, and I have no inclination whatsoever to reproduce, my brother shall do so in my stead.”
She glanced outside and then remarked over her shoulder, “An altogether convenient arrangement...for you.”
He ignored her sarcasm with a smile. “I believe it so. But I have also made it well worth my brother’s while. He will receive properties and a more than generous settlement when he and Vesta are wed. Indeed, I am thinking of settling Woodcote Park upon them as a bridal gift.”
She stared at him with surprise. “Woodcote Park? Your estate at Epsom?”
He inclined his head. “The same.”
“But you only bought it four years ago. I thought you were quite enamored of the place.”
“Yet I have never returned to it. I only maintain my stables there.”
Diana frowned. “Never? You just closed it up and—”
“Yes. There was some unpleasantness there that I have had no wish to dwell upon.” He allowed a meaningful pause. “But I think Hew and Vesta would enjoy it well. Do you agree?”
“Given their mutual love of riding and its proximity to the down, I could
hardly disagree.” She studied him intently. “You surprise me, Ludovic.”
“In what way?” he asked, noting with satisfaction her lapse in the use of his Christian name.
“I did not think you a man of the least sensibility.”
Ludovic rose as Vesta and Hew returned through the terrace door, noting the high color spotting Hew’s cheeks and the deep rose of Vesta’s swollen lips with a twitch of his own. “Then perhaps, my dear, you don’t know me quite as well as you thought.”
Chapter Four
King’s Place Brothel, St James, Westminster
“Ah, my Lord DeVere!” Madam Hayes rushed forth to greet her noble guest with a sweeping curtsey that displayed an indecent amount of her bosom. “What an honor that you once more grace us with your presence! You have been away so long that I feared to have lost your custom altogether.” She clasped his sleeve; her brightly painted lips formed a coquettish moue.
“I have been much occupied of late, my dear. But pray, have no fear, I have been well-satisfied with our arrangement to date.”
“I am gratified to hear that, my lord. Now, what is your pleasure this evening? I have several delicious, young nymphs on offer, new and certifiably unsullied.”
DeVere smirked. “You mean your physician is a magician in making what is well-worn brand new again.”
“You know I only offer premium goods,” she protested.
“I might better say you offer your goods at a premium.” DeVere chuckled. “Besides, you know I haven’t a penchant for virgins. I prefer a willing and knowledgeable partner.”
“But tastes are subject to change,” she said with a smile, “especially in those so jaded as you. And you know I endeavor to please every appetite. Gentlemen of all tastes are welcome in my establishment. Anything you desire can be procured...for the right price, of course.”
“My own preference is easy enough to fill this night,” he replied. “I should like Salime.”
“Salime?” Her painted brows reached toward her bewigged hairline. “The Jewel of the East has become exceedingly popular. I fear her price has gone up considerably since you were here last.”
“Come now, Mrs. Hayes, when has price ever been an obstacle?”
“La!” She laughed, a shrill sound. “My apologies, my lord. I am a woman of business, after all, and not all my patrons are as free with their purses. Thus, I must be up front to ensure the satisfaction of all my guests.”
DeVere reached into his pocket and retrieved a coin purse, which he dropped wordlessly into the bawd’s hand. She weighed the gold with a wink and an effusive smile that displayed yellowing teeth. “I daresay this should more than suffice.”
***
The raven-haired siren reclined on a silk upholstered lit à la turque in a chamber littered with colorful tasseled pillows and brass lanterns, appointed in the same Oriental style as DeVere’s own private drawing room. She rose at once, losing all affectation of indolence, the moment he entered the chamber.
“Effendi! My lord! My heart is joyous!” She gushed and knelt at his feet.
He took her hand, assisting her to rise, and kissed it. “How are you, my dear Salime?”
“I have been well enough...but much better now to see you again.” She gave him a shy smile with her eyes demurely downcast. “I wondered if you had found another more to your liking—perhaps the fiery one who came during our last evening together?” She glanced up to meet his amused gaze.
“You are all too astute, my dear.” Ludovic chuckled. “It has much to do with the fiery one as you so aptly name her. But pray, let us not talk of it, for I have dire need of distraction of the kind only you can provide.”
“I exult to be the one chosen.”
“Your continued exuberance is enchanting,” he said. “I thought it may have diminished by now.”
“But it is only for you. The rest...” She gave a blithe half shrug and sauntered with a seductive sway of her hips to the carafe of wine standing at the ready beside the divan upon which she had reposed. She filled an ornate goblet and brought it to him, raising it to his lips. “I only delight in serving you, Effendi.”
“You flatter me,” he said and took a sip before accepting the goblet from her bejeweled hands.
She helped him out of coat, waistcoat, and cravat. “What is your pleasure this night, my lord?” She slowly licked her lush lips while moving her hand to the front of his breeches to gently cup his bollocks and tease his dormant shaft. He stayed her hand. “Not this time, my dear.”
She regarded him with befuddlement. “But it has been many days and you are a man of remarkable virility.”
Divested of his more restrictive outer garments, Ludovic lowered himself to recline on the large cushions scattered on the floor. He patted the space beside him, indicating she should join him. She sat cross-legged and drew his head onto her lap. He closed his eyes with a sigh as she massaged his temples and riffled her fingers through his hair.
At length, she asked, “Have you taken her as your mistress? Has the fiery one succeeded where all others failed?”
He cracked one eye open. “What the devil is that supposed to mean?”
“You know the secrets of women, my lord, how to touch and stroke and awaken the passions of the soul as well as the body, yet you, yourself, remain always unmoved. Has a woman finally touched you? Has one at last stirred your soul to waking?”
He groaned. “Is that what this damnably unpleasant sensation is? My soul awakening?”
“Then it is true.” Salime regarded him wistfully. “She is the most fortunate of women.”
He gave her a twisted smile. “She would hardly agree. She wants none of me.”
“Then she is a fool, my lord. Yet you still want no other?” She eyed his groin suggestively.
“That’s the bloody sad truth of it. I seem unable to summon any desire for any other.”
“Shall I try to rouse you?” she asked. “I know many ways. You need only close your eyes and picture her.”
“No,” he replied. “An exceedingly generous offer, but I would not use you that way, my dear. There is, however, another means by which you and only you could give me immense satisfaction.”
“And how is that, my lord?” Her black eyes glittered with unveiled eagerness.
“Dance for me, Salime.”
She looked almost disappointed. “You only wish for me to dance?”
“Yes,” he said. “I would very much like for you to dance.”
Chapter Five
Upper Grosvenor Street, three days later
“Vesta, I just can’t condone the suddenness of your decision. It is far too impetuous. You are too young! I sent you to London to get a taste of the sophisticated world, to meet people, to dance, to attend the operas and plays. To mix and mingle, not to latch on to the first eligible, young man to come your way! You have so little experience of the world. How can you know that Hew is the one who will make you happy?”
“Because I love him, Papa, and he loves me!” Vesta wailed. “Why should we wait? Just so that I am a year older?”
“Frankly, yes,” said Sir Edward. “Much can change with time and maturity, including your feelings for Hew.”
“But, Papa! You don’t understand. He is already mine, and I am his. Forever.”
“Already?” He seemed to latch on to the significance of that one word. His eyes narrowed ominously. His mouth formed a grim line. “What do you mean by already, Vesta?”
She lowered her gaze and bit her lip. “I’m sorry to disappoint you, but it just happened. It was fated, you see.”
“Fated, my arse!” His voice boomed. “You mean the blackguard seduced you—my only child!”
“Never!” Vesta cried with passion. “Hew could not have seduced me, for he was unconscious—at least the first night. After that...well...I think perhaps it was I who seduced him.”
Her father stared at her with an astounded expression. “How can you even know of such things?”
“Papa, how can you be so naïve? We live in the country, for goodness’ sakes! I have seen the stallions, the bulls, the pigs, the sheep, the chickens, and even your own hunting hounds mounting and rutting. Indeed, I think my knowledge of the subject is quite extensive.”
“Dear God!” He raked his hair with a groan. “So that’s the way of it. But whether Hew intended it or not, he has despoiled you.”
“But we wish to wed,” she insisted. “So what does it really matter?”
“It bloody well matters because you no longer have a choice, young lady! It matters because I have been dishonored, as well, by the broken faith of my best friend, who had pledged to look after you! I’ll be damned if I’ll take this sitting down!” He stood with a thunderous look.
“What do you mean to do?” Vesta asked with a rising sense of panic.
“I mean to have satisfaction, of course!” he declared.
“No!” Vesta cried, throwing herself to the floor and wrapping her arms around her father’s legs. “You can’t do it. Please, Papa!”
“Vesta! Cease these histrionics and unhand me at once. I shan’t kill him.”
“Y-you won’t?” she asked with a soft hiccup.
“Of course not! For he must do right by you. But my troth, I will have my pound of flesh.”
***
“Where the devil is he, Winchester?” Sir Edward Chambers demanded the moment he entered the vestibule of DeVere House. “I demand to see Captain Hewett at once!”
“I’m afraid he had some business at Horse Guards this morning and has not yet returned,” the majordomo replied.
“And DeVere? He has much to account for as well.”
The Devil's Match Page 3