A Devil Named DeVere (The Devil DeVere)

by Vane, Victoria

  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..."

  ***

  "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 each other?" 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 each other 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 each other'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 unrea
sonable," 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 wed, 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."

  A few minutes later, Diana paused on the threshold to study her unexpected caller. The woman was, indeed, as exotic and incongruous as Polly had described her. She was garbed in diaphanous Turkish trousers and a silk tunic in jewel tones with an exquisitely embroidered girdle about her waist. Rings covered her fingers, and gold bracelets jangled on both arms. Her hair was black as sable and coiled in a braid atop her head with a cap and scarf secured by a jeweled clip draping from her coronet of hair to partially conceal the left side of her face. Dark, almond-shaped eyes lined with kohl regarded her with overt curiosity and more than a hint of hauteur when Diana advanced into the room.

  "I am Salime," she said, the bells on her kid slippers softly jangling as she rose to her feet. She sized Diana up with a languorous but unreadable gaze, as if she was appraising her worth.

  "And who is this?" Diana inclined her head to the giant who hovered at the window with arms crossed over his massive chest.

  "Pay no heed to Mustafa. He is but a eunuch."

  "A eunuch?" Diana repeated dumbly.

  "A man with no—"

  "I know what a eunuch is. I just don't understand why he is here."

  "He is my servant," Salime answered matter-of-factly. "Eunuchs are common where I come from."

  "And where is that?" Diana asked, indicating her guest should sit. Salime did so, reclining with casual indifference while Diana stiffly settled her voluminous skirts. Despite herself, Diana's curiosity and fascination regarding this woman was growing by the minute. "Do you care for tea?" Diana offered.

  Salime made a face. "An insipid drink. Have you coffee?"

  "I'm sorry, I do not drink it," Diana replied.

  Salime waved a dismissive hand. "No matter. The English method of preparation is tasteless. The English senses are bland and dull. It is what I miss of my home. The food. The spices. The scents."

  "And where is home?"

  "A land far away, a place in the East you call Constantinople."

  "You are a Turk, then?"

  "I was born a Spaniard but raised as a Turk. I was an odalisque in the Imperial Harem at Topkapi Palace." She gave a proud jut of her chin.

  "An odalisque?" Diana repeated. "It is a kind of female servant, is it not?"

  "An odalisque is a slave to the concubines of the Imperial Harem."

  "You were a slave?"

  "Yes, taken from a Spanish convent school when very young. I don't remember much before that."

  "You were actually raised in a harem? A serail?"

  "Yes," Salime answered. "But it is not as westerners imagine it. A harem is not a private brothel but the residence of the most venerated women in the empire, the wives and concubines of the sultan. It is also a place of training for young women."

  "Fascinating," Diana said.

  Salime shrugged. "I was given to the harem at a young age and like a hundred other girls, educated by a Kalfa, a senior maid. I was taught many things—to read and write, to sing and dance. And when I proved to be the best of the dancers, I found favor with the Valide Sultana who selected me to be presented to the sultan. I might have been chosen as his concubine or may have been married off to a government official, but the harem is a dangerous place, full of intense rivalry and petty jealousies. One night while I slept"—she released the veil from the left side of her face to reveal a long, jagged scar—"my face was cut. And when my beauty was no more, I was cast out."

  Diana felt her heart move with pity. "How did you come to be in England?"

  "It is another long story and not relevant at the moment. I have a purpose in coming here, Khanum."

  "I don't understand. Polly said you are an...er...acquaintance...of Lord DeVere. What brings you to me?"

  The woman's mouth formed a subtle smile. "I bring instruction, Khanum. To be chosen Iqbal, the favorite of such a man as my lord, is a great honor. Thus, I am come to prepare you."

  "Prepare me?" Diana asked, puzzled.

  "Yes. And for this, you must come with me."

  Diana balked. "Go with you where?"

  "To a private place. I cannot teach you here."

  Diana's eyes widened. "Just what is it you intend to teach me, Salime?"

  The woman's smile broadened in a show of pearly white teeth. "The most valuable and treasured secrets of the erotic arts, Khanum. How to bring my lord utter rapture melded from mind, body, and soul."

  "He sent you for this!" Diana shook with uncontained rage. "Of all the unmitigated gall!

  "Effendi does not send me." Salime scowled.

  "No? Then why have you come?"

  "Has he not chosen you above all others?" Salime asked.

  Diana emitted a scornful laugh. "He may choose whomever he likes, but I will have none of him!"

  Salime's brows drew together, and her mouth puckered with an air of disdain. "You would refuse the honor to become the Iqbal, his favorite?"

  "Yes, I refuse him altogether."

  Salime rolled her eyes and expelled air in a sound of disgust. "How dull of understanding you English women are! Do you not realize the power a woman may wield with her hands, her mouth, her sex? In my land, the woman who pleases the sultan commands the key to his kingdom. For a satisfied man is but wet clay in her hands."

  "I assure you there are some English women who understand that concept well enough. As for me, I have no desire to command his kingdom or anything else."

  Salime appeared skeptical. "I think not, Khanum. When you came to him that night, your face may have been hidden by your veil, but your fire was not. I think mayhap you do desire the key to his heart.
"

  "You are misguided if you believe he has one."

  "Are you blind as well as dull-witted, Khanum?" Salime asked.

  "I am inclined to accept our differences with reasonable tolerance, Salime, but I shan't bear your insults," Diana snapped.

  "The truth offends you?"

  "The truth? The man is shallow, self-absorbed, and devoid of integrity. He is incapable of deep feeling."

  Salime shook her head with a scowl. "He is also a fool to care for one who does not even know him."

  Diana was befuddled. "I know him well enough and am confounded why you should defend him so."

  "Why? Because he saved my life and at some expense to his own," the exotic woman replied.

  "How?" Diana demanded.

  "You wish to know all? Then I will tell you, Khanum. I said I was cast from the Harem; I was drugged and cut by an unknown rival, taken far across the city away from Topkapi Palace, and left in the street. I had no money and no way to find my way back even if they would have taken me back in. Worse, I had no protection. I was discovered by a slave trader who raped me before taking me to a brothel to sell me into prostitution. Effendi saw me there."

  "Effendi?"

  "Lord DeVere. He had seen me dance at Topkapi. He arranged to buy me instead. This was no small thing, Khanum."

  "To buy a slave? I daresay he could afford a thousand of them."

  "You do not understand. In my country infidels may not buy slaves. There is a severe penalty. Only those of my faith may do so."

  "Then how did this come about?" Diana asked.

  "Effendi, my lord, had to profess the true faith and sacrifice his own flesh to the knife."

  "I don't follow your meaning," Diana said.

  "He had to convert to Islam and be purified by circumcision, Khanum," Salime explained.

  Diana's mouth formed a silent O. She studied Salime for a long, incredulous moment and then scoffed. "He bought you for his own selfish pleasure."

  "He did not! He bought me and then freed me out of nothing more than pity. You cannot tell me my lord has no feeling, no integrity. It is a lie."

  "But are you not a woman of pleasure, Salime?"