“My lord has not yet risen, Sir Edward.”
“Still lazing in bed, is he? It’s nearly noon!”
“My lord keeps unconventional hours,” the deadpan retainer explained.
“Then I shall just have to pull his conniving arse from the bed myself!” Before the servant could protest, Ned bound up the stairs two at a time. Barreling past DeVere’s gaping valet, he barged into the bedchamber, pausing only long enough for his eyes to adjust to the relative darkness within. He scanned the contents of the room and grinned when his gaze lit on the wash basin and pitcher. Taking up the latter, he drew back the bed curtains and poured the contents over the slumbering viscount, while the valet who had followed jerked open the window drapes to allow the full blast of sunshine to bombard the darkened room.
Accosted simultaneously with water and daylight, DeVere bolted upright blinking wildly and spewing a mouthful of curses. “What the bloody hell!” He looked up at Ned glowering down at him, arms across his chest. “Ned, it is at last? Damn well took you long enough. I had expected you yesterday.”
“Hang you, DeVere! I bloody well exhausted a half-dozen horses getting here and left my new bride alone and pining for me in my bed. I am not a happy man. You have some serious explaining to do, my friend. I mean to know without delay, distortion, or dissimulation what is this business between your brother and my daughter?”
“Good God, Ned! Can’t a man even gather his wits before you begin the harangue? At least let me cover my arse.”
“I’ll grant you a moratorium of ten minutes, DeVere.” Ned fixed him with a menacing glare. “No more, or I’ll be dragging you through the streets bare arsed by your bollocks. I’ll be waiting in that so-called library of yours.”
“I take exception to that, Ned.” DeVere looked affronted. “Some of those books are priceless. I happen to have the finest collection of erotology in London.”
“As if you need more fodder for your already debauched mind,” Ned jibed. “Ten minutes, DeVere. In the library.” Ned subconsciously massaged the knuckles of his right hand. “And it will bode ill for Hew if I happen to find him first.”
***
Given his own painful history with Ned’s fists, Ludovic decided he’d much prefer to be a fly on the proverbial wall when Ned caught up with Hew, instead of becoming the recipient of the yet-caged fury. Waving away his valet, he splashed his own face with water, threw on a banyan—rather than taking the time to fully dress—and padded barefoot to his library. He observed that Ned had already helped himself to a bottle of Madeira.
“Aren’t you drinking rather early for one of your abstemious inclinations?” Ludovic asked.
Ned’s air was only slightly less ominous than before. “I thought I might find it a pacifying influence, but it doesn’t seem to be working. I’m still ready to pummel both of you. Now tell me what the devil has transpired in the single fortnight since I sent my daughter to London with the simple request that you look after her.”
To Ludovic’s inexpressible delight, Hew chose that precise moment to enter the library.
“Sir Edward,” he approached Ned with an unusually formal bow. “I am glad to see you arrived safely.”
“At the moment you might be.” Ned spoke drily. “But when I am through with you, you might wish I’d been beset upon by brigands.”
Hew flushed the color of his uniform. “You have every right to be incensed, Sir Edward. I can only beg your forgiveness for any damage I might have caused to your family’s good name and your indulgence that I might offer a thorough explanation.”
Ned settled back in his chair, grim-faced. “Very well, then. Proceed to explain to me exactly how and why you went about compromising the virtue of my eighteen-year-old daughter.”
Ludovic interrupted with an impatient huff. “Ned, did you not send Vesta to town to find a husband?”
“I only sent her for her come-out, for an introduction to society. She is far too young to wed.”
“Yet you and Annalee were no older,” Ludovic argued.
“It’s not that simple, and you know it!” Ned growled.
“Bollocks! It is exactly the same. Vesta set her cap for Hew and then contrived an exceedingly clever scheme to have him. Hew was at first unaware of her affections, but after three days on shipboard together, he became equally enamored. Thus, nature simply took its course.”
Ludovic watched warily as Ned slammed a fist against his own palm and winced at the distinctive sound of flesh on flesh. It was an unsubtle reminder of his own late experience with Ned’s fists. “You are her godfather, damn it!” Ned shouted. “You were supposed to protect her! To look after her interests.”
“And I did precisely that,” Ludovic argued. “You have known Hew most of his life. Can you honestly picture a more respectable and upstanding husband for Vesta? Had Hew demurred, I may have taken the scheming, little baggage myself.”
“The hell you would! I’d see you hanged first, DeVere. Indeed, I’d delight in doing the honors myself!” Ned’s face was flushed, and his chest rose markedly with every intake of breath.
With the threat of violence looming, Hew stepped boldly between them. “While I appreciate your brotherly sentiments, Vic, I can and will speak for myself. Sir Edward, while I regret the manner in which our hasty courtship came about, please believe that I care deeply for Vesta and only wish her happiness. I have every reason to believe she desires the match as much as I do, but I am also aware that she is not of an age to decide these things for herself.”
“Damned right!” Ned declared. “She’s not ready by half!”
“Although I have little choice but to abide by your decision in this matter, please believe neither of us will change our mind.”
“You would not try to circumvent me and elope?”
“No, Sir Edward. It would not be my wish to begin our life together in such a disreputable manner.”
Ned’s scowl seemed to soften. “I know she could do far worse than you, Hew, but I won’t have talk. If you wish to proceed, from this moment on you must pay your address with fitting propriety. I won’t have my only child wed in a suspiciously slapdash manner.”
“But what if...” Hew colored.
Ned raised a brow. “Vesta herself came into the world a mere six-month after Annalee and I said our vows, but everyone turned a blind eye. There will be minimal talk if little is made of it. No, Vesta will return to Yorkshire with me where the banns will be called and all protocol followed. Is that understood?”
Hew nodded. “Of course, Sir Edward.”
“Then it seems only one item remains.” Ned rose and cracked his knuckles with a malevolent glare.
Hew paled, yet stood his ground. “And what is that?”
Ned flexed his right hand. “I am still much in need of satisfaction.” Hew shut his eyes as if in anticipation, but Ned spun around to ram a solid English peg into DeVere instead.
“Oof!” The blow stuck Ludovic’s midsection, knocking him clean onto his arse, bursting the wind from his lungs in an agonizing gush. The world went black for an interminable moment as he lay gasping in a struggle just to breathe. “What the devil was that about?” he finally managed to choke out.
Ned tented his tawny brows. “Need you ask? Regardless of your professed innocence, this entire imbroglio positively reeks of you. That was for your damnable conniving and complicity that shall now result in a merging of our families... May God help me...”
Chapter Six
Upper Grosvenor Street
“Your father is right, you know.” Diana’s gaze tracked Vesta, who paced her bedchamber, like a dervish in a rustling, silk petticoat. “Haven’t you heard the adage—marry in haste, repent at leisure?”
Vesta spun around to counter, “Or marry by arrangement and be miserable all the same?”
Touché. The point struck home. “That was unkind, Vesta.”
“I’m sorry, but I know you were not happy with Lord Reggie, Aunt Di. We all knew it. Did you
never love one another?” Vesta threw herself down on the bed and began plucking at the counterpane.
“No. We did not.” Diana joined her goddaughter on the bed. She absently toyed with Vesta’s curls as she spoke. “In the beginning, I had hoped that affection would grow between us...but it never did. As the years progressed, we came to live independent lives, and I would have carried on that way, had not Reggie ruined us. Yes, Vesta, I was unhappy in my marriage, but I was still a dutiful wife.”
Diana was careful to avoid the word “faithful.” While she certainly had regrets about the past, she refused to harbor any guilt about what had transpired between her and DeVere. Time had only increased her resentment over his abrupt and unexplained end to their affair, yet she was galled and dismayed to discover her attraction for him had failed to diminish. If anything, it had magnified. He was right, though she would slit her own throat before ever confessing it; she did still desire him and utterly despised herself for it.
“What really happened to Lord Reggie, Aunt Di?” Vesta paused her nervous fidgeting to ask. “You’ve never spoken of it.”
“Because it is vastly unpleasant to do so,” Diana said. “He was a compulsive gambler, and when it appeared he had lost nearly everything, he was found dead. That entire chapter of my life is over now and best forgotten.”
Still, Vesta pressed her. “It happened at my godfather’s country house in Epsom, did it not? I was not too young to remember. You and Mama and Papa went for a visit and came back early, but I never saw Lord Reggie again. No one ever said he was dead. No one told me anything at all. I didn’t understand for the longest while.” A moment of silence ensued. “How long did my parents know one another before they wed?”
Diana was thankful the topic had finally diverted away from herself. “I don’t know,” she answered. “A few months maybe? They met at my engagement party as I recall.”
“How old were they?”
“Annalee had just passed her eighteenth summer.”
“And my father was only a few months older than she was,” Vesta said. “And you, Aunt Di, how old were you when you wed?”
“I was seventeen.”
Vesta bolted upright. “A full year younger than me!” she declared. “See how unfair you are all being!”
“But, Vesta, the circumstances were completely different in my situation. My parents arranged the match—”
“To a man you just admitted you did not even love,” Vesta accused.
Diana realized with a sigh that she had been outmaneuvered again. “But, dearest, we don’t wish you to rush into something you may later regret. Sometimes our emotions lead us astray, and what we think we desire most at one moment becomes something that haunts us later. You must know we only care for your happiness.”
“The only one who seems to truly care for my happiness is my godfather!” Vesta sniffed, tears beginning to mist her eyes. “Are you in love with him? Is that it?”
Diana paled. “How can you even ask such a thing? He is a vile man, nothing more than a licentious libertine!”
“How can you dare say such things, when you know Hew is all that is honorable and decent! You did want him, didn’t you?” Vesta accused and tore herself away from Diana. “And now you hate him for choosing me instead! Well, you shan’t have him, Aunt Di!”
“Hew?” Diana shook her head in bewilderment. “I thought we were talking of Lord DeVere.”
“Lord DeVere?” Vesta froze, her hazel eyes turning into saucers. “You are in love with Uncle Vic? I surely cannot imagine a more unlikely pair!” She clutched her stomach and broke into a paroxysm of giggles.
“I am not in love with anyone,” Diana protested, “least of all that...that...reprobate!”
“He does have lovely blue eyes,” Vesta said. “And I daresay he’s quite handsome for one so old. But I suppose he is the right age for you. You could be a viscountess, you know. But what a conundrum that would be! What should I call you then?” She gave Diana a puzzled look. “Would you be godmother, cousin, or sister?” Vesta clapped a hand to her mouth with another burst of mirth.
“Ludicrous!” Diana stood with a scowl. “I would never have such a man!”
“But why not, Aunt Di? Surely you could convince him. It only takes a bit of laudanum...” Vesta grinned and then suddenly grew serious. “Don’t you ever get lonely?”
“Of course not! I have you and Sir Edward—”
“and now Phoebe?”
Diana grimaced. “I doubt she and I shall ever become bosom beaus.”
“But what shall you do when Hew and I wed and I move away? What then, Aunt Di?”
It was a question Diana had not yet considered. Her life had been intertwined with Vesta and Edward’s for so long that it was hard for her to fathom a future alone. “I don’t honestly know, Vesta,” she replied. “Perhaps, I should come and live in town.” But that option would also mean she would inevitably encounter Lord DeVere. He had made his renewed interest clear. Wisdom and experience told her the sooner she put distance between them, the better.
“Have you never considered remarriage?” Vesta asked. “Don’t you miss”—she gave Diana a sly smile—”you-know-what?”
“I am sure I don’t know what!”
“Come now, Aunt Di,” Vesta cajoled. “Won’t you tell me? I found it positively lovely. In truth, I don’t know how I will endure it until Hew and I can be together that way again.”
“Vesta! A young lady should never confess such things!” Diana scolded.
“What? That we did it? Or that I liked it?” Vesta grinned.
“Neither! Both! Botheration! It’s never a proper topic of conversation for a young lady.”
“Did you not like it too, Aunt Di? Being one with a man? Please, tell me the truth,” she begged. “I have no mother to discuss these things with.”
Retrieving one of the miscellaneous fans that littered the room, Diana attempted to cool her heated face. “Yes,” she confessed with a great sigh, knowing that with Vesta, the sooner answered, the less need be said. “There was, indeed, a time, very briefly, in my life that I thought the joining of a man and woman was the most wondrous thing in all creation. But a relationship between a man and a woman must rise above the physical realm to endure, Vesta. A marriage should be based on more than passion and animal lust.”
Four years ago, in the depths of desolation, Diana had abandoned all caution and good sense by seeking comfort in the devil’s own arms. Giving herself up to a frenzy of passion, DeVere had taken her to unimaginable heights. She had experienced an intimacy of body and soul she had never known with another and had thought it a beginning of something more. But he had broken it off with callous indifference, incinerating her unspoken hopes to ashes.
“Wedlock should be founded on mutual respect and genuine affection. It is also helpful if you share one another’s likes and dislikes or at the least understand them.” All of which had been lacking with DeVere. She neither liked, trusted, understood, nor respected him, but still he had charmed and seduced her, body and soul.
“I respect and admire Hew immensely,” Vesta said. “And we have a surprising number of likes in common. There is much we will enjoy together—horses, hunting, hounds, and especially, you-know-what.” Vesta giggled.
“But do you respect him enough to obey him, Vesta? For when a woman weds, she is no longer a person in her own right. As Hew’s wife, you must permit him to guide you in all things. By law and nature, you will belong to him.”
“Hew would never be unreasonable,” Vesta said.
“How can you know that? You may have quite different opinions on what is reasonable—your manner of courtship, for example. I wonder, did Hew think drugging and kidnapping him perfectly reasonable?”
Vesta pouted. “The circumstances required drastic measures. He has since agreed that the ends justified the means.”
“How surprisingly conciliatory,” Diana remarked with a dry smile. “I’m simply pointing out that if you we
d, you must allow him to govern you, or you will both be miserable.”
“But surely you did not always agree with Lord Reggie.”
“In over ten years of marriage, I deferred to him in all things...until his actions brought us to the brink of ruin. It was only then, when I knew all was lost, that I chose to make my own decisions. My dear, are you certain this is what you want?”
“Yes, Aunt Di. Above all things. Papa has agreed as long as we call the banns, and he even promised not to mortally harm Hew when he departed.” Vesta knelt beside Diana and clasped both of her godmother’s hands in a plaintive gesture. “Please, won’t you give your blessing, as well? Don’t you think Mama would have done so?”
“Yes, Vesta,” Diana reluctantly agreed. “Your mother was inordinately fond of Hew, and I am certain she would have been the most delighted of all. Of course, you both have my blessing.”
“Oh, Aunt Di!” Vesta threw her arms around Diana’s neck. “Then you must be my matron of honor! Uncle Vic will, of course, be Hew’s best man. To have both my godparents stand up with us will be a dream come true.”
Diana’s heart sank. The prospect of reuniting with DeVere in such intimate circumstances might be Vesta’s dream, but it was Diana’s worst nightmare.
***
“There is a female creature wishing to see you, my lady.” Polly gave a sniff of disdain.
“Oh?” Diana raised a finely arched brow. “Have you a name or a calling card for this so-called creature?”
“She says she’s a salmon, an acquaintance of Lord DeVere. I say she looks right fishy, indeed.”
“You say Lord DeVere has sent her?”
“She ain’t the least respectable, my lady—paint on her eyes and lips and wearing some outlandish, heathenish dress. Shall I turn her away?”
“Is she alone?”
“Nay, but her footman’s equally queer—a behemoth beturbaned blackamoor!”
Diana frowned. “That’s peculiar indeed. No, Polly. Tell her I am at home, and please show her to the drawing room.”
The Devil's Match Page 4