A Devil Named DeVere (The Devil DeVere)

by Vane, Victoria

  Unless? Diana recalled their very first meeting but immediately shook the notion away. It was outrageously vain to think he might have intended to use the deed to get her into his bed. If that was his intent, would he not have mentioned it when she first sought his help?

  Now Reggie thought to turn the tables. Although he believed he had the upper hand, his avarice would surely be his undoing. Diana knew DeVere would never submit to blackmail, yet there was nothing she could do to prevent a legal action. A judgment could help her secure a separation and thus freedom from the travesty of her marriage...but at what cost?

  She descended to breakfast with a feeling of dread at the thought of meeting DeVere so soon after sharing his bed. Although only knowing each other a matter of days, they had parted that morning on terms of intimacy she had never experienced with anyone. It was both breathtaking and terrifying. They had become lovers, but then Reggie's revelations had followed. Diana still wasn't sure what to think or how to react.

  As it turned out, there was no opportunity at all to speak of the concerns that plagued her or to warn him about Reggie. DeVere and Hew had broken their fast early and left almost directly afterward. In the few minutes they might have had to talk, Edward and Annalee had been present.

  DeVere's reaction upon seeing her, however, the secret smile he bestowed, melted her insides and promised more of what they had shared the night before. It also told her he knew nothing of Reggie's blackmail. She was partly relieved. If only she could find a way to speak with him first.

  ***

  A crowd of hundreds were gathered along the racecourse when Diana, Ned, and Annalee arrived on the down. They took their places apart from the rabble upon the raised dais erected for the owners and aristocrats. Her spine stiffened when the Duchess of Beauclerc joined them on the arm of the Earl of March.

  Edward bowed to them both. "Duchess. And so good to see you, my Lord March," he addressed the earl and then introduced Annalee and Diana, both of whom dipped in a brief show of obeisance. "Have you a horse in the running?" Edward asked the noted turf man.

  "Aye," said the earl. "A fine mare in the second race."

  "Is that so?" said Diana. "Then I promise you a great challenge as I also have a horse in the running."

  The earl regarded her with a rapt interest that Diana knew had little to do with the horses. "Do you, indeed, madam? Then I wish you the best of luck." Diana was certain she could hear Caroline's teeth grinding as the Lord March's gaze lingered much longer than proper.

  "Ah! There is Lord Derby and Elizabeth Ferren. William, dearest, we must go and greet them." The duchess tugged on her companion's silk sleeve.

  "As you wish, my sweet," answered the earl, though Diana noted his reluctance.

  "Lady Chambers. Baroness," the duchess awarded them a brittle smile as the pair departed.

  "It didn't take her long to find a replacement," said Diana between her own tightly smiling teeth.

  "She'll get nowhere with that one if she seeks a second ducal coronet," Edward replied in an undertone. "Although he's next in line for the dukedom of Queensberry, March is a notorious roué with a penchant for Italian opera singers."

  "No doubt she only wished to pique DeVere," said Annalee.

  "Then the effort is truly wasted." Edward laughed outright. "He was never happier to send a mistress on her way."

  Their moment of jollity was disrupted when Reggie joined them after presumably having consulted with his lover-jockey. His smug expression suggested he had confronted DeVere as well, but also told Diana that he was yet unaware his race-fixing scheme had been discovered. Though she tried to ignore him altogether, his presence alone set her teeth on edge.

  "When do the mares run?" Diana asked Edward.

  "The stallions will be up first," he answered. "They are to run a single, two-mile heat, followed by the geldings and then the mares. The top three horses will then run against one another in the fourth race for the grand prize."

  Three thousand. Enough money to get her home back, but not her life. Diana realized with a jolt that her life would never be the same. She stole a sidelong look at Reggie, wishing he would just disappear. Perhaps she should just give him the winnings? Part of her wanted him to run off with his lover as he and Johnson had planned. She would then have grounds for her own legal action, but what if he refused? If he had determined to press matters with DeVere, it would be impossible for him to abscond with his lover.

  No, surely he would wait and play out his hand now that he thought he held the trump card. If he carried out his threat as she presumed he would, where would that leave her? Her name would be besmirched in the broadsheets. The scandal would be unbearable. Yet she was even willing to live with a ruined name if she could only obtain a separation from Reggie, but deep down, she knew he would never agree.

  To do so would give her freedom—the chance to move on with her life and the option to remarry one day. Though that option was furthest from her mind, it was one of very few alternatives available to any woman in reduced circumstances—to remarry or to live as a dependent relative. Both filled her with dismay. Unbidden, a third unthinkable alternative flashed through her mind, along with images of last night that filled her with an empty ache.

  One night in his bed, and she was forever changed.

  Diana found herself in an inexplicable, and moreover, inextricable tangle. The only certainty was that her mare would run in the race today. Perhaps she would take the money and simply disappear. She clung to that thought as desperately as to a lifeline.

  Although her mind was still preoccupied, she forced herself to return to the present, back to the races. She focused on the leading grooms as they brought out the first group of horses and the jockeys who were mounting up.

  "Where is Lord DeVere?" she finally asked, curious that he had yet to show when his stallion, Prometheus, was about to run.

  "Ah! There he is!" Annalee pointed. "In the red-and-black silks. And Hew in the red-and- gold."

  "DeVere is riding?" Diana asked.

  "Did you not know?" Edward replied. "Says his man Pratt took ill this morning. That's the third last minute change in riders, by the by."

  "What do you mean?" Reggie demanded.

  "Hew was to jockey Prometheus, but now it seems he's to ride Diana's mare, Cartimandua, and O'Kelly replaced his main jockey as well. I hear he dismissed the man on the spot not an hour ago."

  Reggie's eyes bulged as he squinted at the field, and Diana thought his color resembled something close to puce.

  Diana recalled DeVere's dead calm in learning of Reggie's scheme to fix the race and almost laughed aloud. So that's what he was up to when he said he had matters in hand. Devious devil, indeed! He had managed to relieve the very jockeys Reggie had attempted to bribe. Although his action did nothing to guarantee the outcome in anyone's favor, it certainly evened up the playing field. Reggie had been a fool to challenge a man like DeVere and an even greater one if he thought to threaten him.

  "The mare? What the devil is she doing on the field?" Reggie demanded, his bugged-eyed gaze tracking the horses and jockeys.

  "I have entered her," Diana answered him with a defiant thrust of her chin.

  "The hell you say!"

  "Don't worry, you need not fear for your interests," said Ned, misinterpreting Reggie's rage. "Hew is one of the best riders out there."

  "But if they each win their trial, Hew and DeVere would challenge one another," Diana remarked.

  "It would, indeed, make for an interesting contest." Edward laughed. "Hew desires nothing more than to defeat his brother who has taunted him with a promise to buy his coveted colors in the Seventeenth Dragoons if Hew can rout him. Lord Reggie, did you not also have a horse in the running?" Ned asked. "It looks like they are about to commence."

  Reggie rose to his feet with a strangled sound. "Johnson and Centurion should have been out there already! Tell them to hold the races, Edward. I must see what's amiss!" Reggie departed the stands at a pa
nicked dash.

  ***

  "There now, ye beastie," the gravelly voice crooned to the big bay stallion nervously pacing inside his box.

  "You there! Who the devil are you?" Lord Reginald demanded of the stranger. "And what are you doing with my horse? Centurion should be out on the field already. Where's my man, Johnson?"

  "Johnson?" The large man in black turned to face him, revealing a crooked nose and a scarred face. "Is he your chap then, guvn'r?"

  "He's my jockey, not that it's any business of yours," Reggie snapped.

  "Is that so?" The man released the horse and began picking his teeth with a silver toothpick. "Well it seems yer man Johnson has come by a little accident." He nodded to the corner of the box where the groom lay facedown in the straw. "These stallions be unruly, dangerous beasts, ye ken. 'Tis a lucky thing I come along when I did or 'e might well ha'e been trampled to death."

  Reggie entered the horse's stall with a tortured cry. "Dear God! Jemmie! My poor lad!" Rolling the jockey onto his back, he discovered Johnson's face pulverized beyond recognition. Raising Johnson's head onto his lap, he screeched, "Don't just stand there like an imbecile! Get a physician!"

  "Why I'll be 'appy to oblige you, guv—just as soon as I take care of me own unfinished business."

  Reggie blanched, his body trembled. "You did this! Who are you? Who sent you?"

  "Who am I?" The man gave him a black-toothed smile. "Let's just say I'm a special messenger."

  Comprehension and stark terror simultaneously washed over Reggie. "How much did he pay you?" he asked. "I'll double it!"

  "Will you now?" The stranger scratched his grizzled chin. "Show me your gold, and mayhap we can strike a bargain."

  "I haven't any on my person," Reggie said in a voiced strangled by panic as the man advanced upon him. "But I can provide surety."

  "Can ye, indeed?"

  "The horse! Take the horse. He's a champion, worth at least five hundred guineas."

  The stranger stepped back to appraise the animal. "Aye, sure enough. But trouble is govn'r, a horse like this 'un be none too easy to fence. Besides, our mutual acquaintance be a gent with a far reach." He doffed his hat and shook his greasy head with a mocking bow. "I fear I must decline yer generous offer."

  "Then what do you want from me?"

  "Ah, 'tis nothing personal-like, yer lardship. The question is what our friend wants. Yer a ruined man and far worse, a cheat. Our friend don't like to be crossed and can't abide a cheat. Now was you a gentl'man proper and like to conduct yerself as such, 'e might hae trusted ye to take the gentl'manly solution on yer own, but being that yer a craven piece of shite, I've been asked to lend me assistance." A pistol appeared from beneath the black coat. The stranger consulted his time piece. "They be starting the race any moment now. So, yer lardship, I ask what is your pleasure? Through the mouf or the ears?"

  Lord Reggie answered with an incomprehensible whimper. As the muzzle entered his mouth, he suffered the final humiliation of the warm wet trickle of urine down the thighs of his breeches.

  To those out on the down, the report of fire was a mere echo to the starter's pistol that commenced the first race.

  Chapter Eleven

  "I'm sorry I couldn't do anything with the officials," said Edward with an apologetic look to Diana. "I'm afraid Reggie's entry fee is also now forfeit."

  Diana worried her lower lip."I cannot imagine what must have happened, unless perhaps, the horse went lame. But to be honest, it makes not the slightest difference to me, as his plans assuredly never included paying off his debts. I'm just glad to see Hew and Cartimandua out there with the mares."

  "This should be an interesting contest, indeed, given DeVere won the first race," said Edward.

  "If we do see DeVere and Hew matched against one another, who would you put your money on?" Diana asked.

  "We'll that's an interesting question." Edward laughed. "We'll just have to wait and see now, won't we?"

  Annalee squeezed Diana's hand. "Let us just hope Hew and the mare have a great run."

  The contenders jigged and pranced to the starting post, six sleek and snorting specimens of muscle and sinew. At the starting signal, the pack bolted, their thunderous ironshod hooves quaking the ground and hurling projectiles of turf heavenward in a unified stampede that in mere seconds was lost on the horizon. Edward pulled out his timepiece. "By my reckoning, the herd should come back into view in about two minutes."

  To Diana, it seemed an eternity.

  The same earth-shaking rumble preceded the herd. Diana shaded her eyes as she strained to determine the color of the lead horse and the jockey's silks. There were two riders neck-and-neck, lengths ahead of the rest as they approached the finish. Diana perched at the edge of her seat, her heart galloping in rhythm with the hammering hoof beats to see an emerald green rider on a lanky, dappled gray and a red-and-gold jockey on a horse the color of copper. It was Hew! With just a few furlongs to go, Diana's fists were clenched, her nails gouging the flesh of her palms. She held her breath until she was lightheaded, and still, they battled for the finish. With only yards to go, she could bear it no longer; she closed her eyes on a prayer.

  "She did it!" Annalee shrieked. "Diana, your horse has won her race!"

  ***

  The two DeVeres dismounted at the stables, handing off their respective horses for hot- walking whilst bantering and chiding each other in true brotherly fashion. With a number of lesser matches taking place before the event culmination, Ludovic had planned a grand al fresco nuncheon at Woodcote Park for the owners and other eminent guests, but now all he could think of was Diana and how soon he might get her back in his bed.

  She was a damned handsome woman and an enthusiastic lover, but there was much more than that. Something about her appealed to him at a distinctly visceral level he had never experienced. Perhaps it was the raw honesty of her emotions, the vulnerability that she tried so hard to conceal. Whatever it was incited a peculiar and contradictory impulse to both exploit and protect her.

  He couldn't remember the last time he'd been so bloody distracted by a woman. He'd barely been able to concentrate on his earlier ride. He would be in no condition to ride against Hew unless he could somehow manage to get her alone for a surreptitious fuck in the interim between races. Surely that would take the edge off. He returned to the house eager to engineer just that, but was waylaid by well-wishers.

  "That was quite a ride, Vic!" Ned clapped him on the back. "Can't decide where to lay my money now between you and Hew."

  "There's really no question, Ned. Although the mare's a superior specimen of her gender, she's no match for the stallion."

  "Don't let Diana hear you say so! She's convinced the prize money is already in her pocket."

  "Is she now?" DeVere smiled at the unintentional segue to his subject of most interest. "And just where is the proud owner? I should like to offer my congratulations."

  "She and Annalee went up to refresh before nuncheon."

  "I think I'll do the same." He turned to his brother. "Hew, pray fill in for me. I'll return shortly."

  "Right-oh, brother mine. You might, indeed, need to rest that decrepit body before we meet on the field."

  "Decrepit, my arse," DeVere replied. "I'll trounce you as usual, insolent whelp!"

  "We'll see about that, Vic. I have powerful yen for those colors you promised me." Hew grinned and swaggered off.

  "He would do the dragoons justice, you know," Ned remarked.

  "They'd be damned lucky to have him," Ludovic agreed. "But he's my heir, and the war is going badly. If anything should happen to him..."

  "You surprise me with your protective streak, but Hew needs to be his own man now."

  "I know," Ludovic said. "That's why I'll eventually concede, but I don't intend to make it easy for him."

  "No, I don't imagine you would!" Ned laughed.

  ***

  "The footman brought a message for you, my lady," Polly said.

 
"Thank you." Diana accepted the foolscap. Noting nothing to identify the sender, she broke the plain, wax seal.

  My private study –D.

  Her hands trembled slightly as she refolded the note and slid it into the pocket of her petticoat.

  "Is sommat amiss?" Polly asked at her mistress's frown.

  "No, nothing of import," Diana replied with a blithe smile. "But I won't be changing my gown quite yet. I have a small matter to attend to first."

  ***

  Diana closed the study door with a quiet click and turned to find DeVere looming over her, his blue eyes glittering dangerously. Without a word, he spun her back to the door, bracing one arm beside her head and reaching for the key with the other. She heard the tumblers turning in the lock, and then there was nothing but DeVere. Her world retracted to his mouth devouring hers, his hard thigh pressing against her and his hand inching up her skirts.

  Diana's head was spinning, her thoughts scattering like leaves before a tempest. The combined assault of warm, hard, musky male and her own urgent desire overpowered her stymied senses. She clutched his hair and pulled away from him only long enough to gasp out. "There's something you need to know."

  "I only need to know my cock is buried inside you," he growled back, his clever fingers freeing a breast from her stays. He closed his mouth over it, his hand sliding between her bare thighs. He groaned as his fingers entered her slick sheath, and she was lost to all brain activity beyond the unadulterated need to join with him.

  Diana's frenzied hands moved to his breeches, caressing, squeezing, fumbling, and finally freeing his engorged staff. Both his hands were now under her skirts cupping her buttocks, his arms sliding beneath her thighs.

  He tore his mouth away, his arms supporting her legs, guiding them about his waist. "Hands on my shoulders," he grunted and lifted her against the wooden door panel. He slid home in one solid thrust, pinning her to the portal. His tight buttocks began pumping a furious rhythm, and her consciousness reduced to the most primal instincts. She squeezed her thighs tight, meeting each driving plunge with her own grinding hips as he pounded into her, hammering her to the door in a coupling that was both feral and sublime. Her orgasm came upon her fierce, frantic, and forceful. Tears were streaming down her face when he caught her cry in his mouth. She swallowed his own shuddering groan as he withdrew and spent between her thighs before they both collapsed to the floor.