"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 Nineteen
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 Twenty
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' sake! 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."
"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 proverbial fly on the 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 h
is 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.
A Devil Named DeVere (The Devil DeVere) Page 18