"It was a devilish long ride," Ned explained.
"All to deliver this shocking report of yours?" Ludovic perched a hip on the corner of his mahogany desk.
"Yes! It's Lazarus all over again!"
"Lazarus, you say? Am I to surmise that someone has been miraculously raised from the dead?"
"Actually, he might as well have been," Ned declared. "I can hardly countenance it after all this time."
"You are trying my patience, Ned."
"It's Simon returned."
"Good God!" The glass slipped from his hand to shatter at Ludovic's feet. "You can't mean Sin is alive? He was pronounced killed in action six years ago."
"I mean exactly that!" Ned exclaimed. "I have the news straight from Baron Singleton. He is indeed alive and may even be in London as we speak. His ship was expected to arrive several days ago."
"Why am I only hearing of this now? I see the bloody Singleton regularly at Parliament."
"Probably because the good baron doesn't like you, DeVere. He believes you were an abominable influence on his son."
"Then he would be right." Ludovic smirked and then stared at the shattered glass at his feet.
"Looking a bit white there, my friend. This is known as shock."
"Admittedly, I am incredulous. How can this be? Where the devil has he been?"
"Interned as a prisoner of war for the greater part of six years."
"Six years imprisonment? In all that time there were no exchanges?"
"Very few. The colonials refused to give up ours when they claimed their men were only released on the point of starvation and death, the poor sods. I daresay 'tis no exaggeration, for I've seen a number of reports on the deplorably inhumane conditions of our prison hulks. Indeed it's said that the colonials set fire to the Whitby, choosing to go down in flames, rather than die of starvation and disease." Ned shook his head. "What a hellish business war is."
"But if Sin was a prisoner, he should have been released nigh on a year ago upon the treaty signing."
"Apparently he was too ill to travel all the way to England. He only made it as far as Bermuda before he was struck with the bloody flux or some such ailment that required months of convalescence…the poor sod."
Their gazes met as silence engulfed them in a dark and sober cloud.
"He'll not be the same man," Ned finally voiced what they were both thinking.
"No. Likely never again," Ludovic agreed. "We must go to him, Ned. At once."
***
Diana bathed, dressed, and resolved to seek out her husband. She took great pains with her appearance in hope of inspiring at least a faint spark of interest from him, sensing that alone would set her troubled heart at ease. Although she still felt ungainly, she knew she at least looked her best, or as good as she could under present circumstances.
The gown she'd chosen was a soft silk damask of green and gold, shades most complimentary to her coloring and eyes. Both the colors and the scandalously low cut bore no small similarity to the one that had mesmerized Ludovic the night they had first met. Although it was over five years ago, every word and nuance from their first night together was burned indelibly into her brain. She wondered if he would recall it as well.
She hoped her generous showing of flesh would serve to jog his memory and incite his passion, that she would see something telling in his expression when she appeared; for it seemed to her a cruel and heartless jest of nature that her desire for him would have increased during this time, while his for her had only waned. Even in her ninth month of pregnancy, she still craved him with a desperate hunger.
Clasping the balustrade for better balance, she cautiously descended the massive marble staircase, her mind racing for a means to discover and mend the breach between them. If he hadn't gone riding, Diana presumed he would be consulting with his man of business in either his private study or perhaps in the library. When she didn't discover him in the former, she sought him out in the latter. Finding the library door ajar, she gave a soft rap and entered.
"Darling, might we speak for a moment—" She paused at the threshold when two pairs of eyes darted to her. "I'm so sorry! I didn't realize you were occupied."
"Diana!" Ned took to his feet the moment he saw her.
"Why, hello, Edward!" she exclaimed with a smile of genuine pleasure. "What a delightful surprise! Are Phoebe and little Ned with you?"
"I'm sorry to disappoint you, but no. This was a very unexpected trip." Ned strode across the library to greet her with a kiss on the cheek. "How lovely you look, like a rose in full bloom."
Diana blushed. "Lovely? You mean how large! Blooming indeed! I'm as big as a blooming house."
He shook his head. "I would argue that breeding quite agrees with you."
"You can desist now, Ned," Ludovic interrupted with a peculiar look. Although she knew jealousy to be foreign to his nature, it was almost as if he resented the open display of affection between Diana and his best friend.
Ned's brow furrowed. "Desist what?"
"Flirting with my wife. It will go to her pretty head. Trust me when I say she does not want for attention. Indeed the proof is in the oven." Ludovic came to Diana's side and placed a possessive hand on her rather protuberant midsection.
With fire infusing her cheeks, Diana playfully slapped his hand away. "Don't be crass, darling."
His gaze raked over her, settling on her well-displayed breasts and then narrowed when it met hers. He chuckled and leaned into her as if to nuzzle her neck, but murmured darkly in her ear, his voice emerging with an uncharacteristic rasp. "Why do you torment me thusly?"
His words, proof positive, that her effort to regain his attention had not been in vain, sent a satisfied ripple down her spine. But her moment of triumph was cut short when he caressed her cheek and withdrew to arms’ length with a look of regret that left her befuddled.
"You needed me, Diana?" he asked after a moment.
More than you can imagine. Her gaze flickered with uncertainty from Ludovic to Edward. But alas, it was not the time. "It can wait, my love." She forced a smile and prevaricated. "'Twas only a minor question about the nursery."
"My, my, DeVere!" Ned lifted a brow with a chuckle. "You are now consulted about the nursery? It is my turn to be shocked at how domesticated you have grown. I never thought I would live to see a once feral tom cat so completely tamed."
"Cats?" Ludovic visibly shuddered. "Must you speak of cats?"
Diana looked to Ned, who then explained, "He has had a powerful aversion to felines ever since our school days."
"Why is that?" Diana asked.
"It involves a certain escapade with a lion," Ned replied.
"A lion?" Diana laughed. "Whatever were you doing with a lion?"
He and Ned exchanged conspiratorial looks. "'Tis a long story for another day," Ludovic said.
"Men!" Diana rolled her eyes but noted that his had never left her. Although their entire exchange was light and playful, his gaze was not. It slid over her again, slowly, heatedly, inciting quivers low in her belly and warmth between her thighs.
"I'll leave you both be. Perhaps you could come upstairs when you are finished?" she suggested, feeling a bit breathless with anticipation.
He cocked a brow. "To discuss the nursery?"
"Yes. Of course." She licked her lips.
"I'm sorry, my pet," he replied with a pained look. "It may have to wait a few days, as it seems I must make an unexpected journey to town."
"Oh?" Diana bit her quivering lip. "Why must it be now?"
"Because it must." He caressed her cheek. "I promise, Diana, not to be gone a moment longer than my business requires. I know you are growing anxious about your confinement, but the physician said it is weeks away yet."
She knew he meant to reassure her, but the words echoed a hollow peal in her head. Why did he have to leave when she felt so fragile, so filled with insecurity and doubt?
"Very well." She averted her gaze. "I'm sure a few days in
town will do you a world of good. I know I've been poor company for you of late. It seems the days are growing more exhausting as my time draws nearer."
"So I am told by the accoucheur," Ludovic stated dryly.
"It will be so until the last week," Ned interjected. "And then you may feel a sudden burst of energy."
"Oh? Is that so?" Diana asked, feigning an interest she didn't feel.
"Yes. Annalee and Phoebe both experienced it at the end of their confinements."
Ludovic made an impatient noise. "If you are quite finished playing midwife now, Ned, I should like to discover the current whereabouts of one Captain Simon Singleton."
"Captain Singleton?" Diana asked. "Is he an acquaintance of Hew?"
"No," Ludovic replied. "He was one my closest friends, second only to Ned, and is the reason for my abrupt departure. His father shipped him off to the colonies before the rebellion. He has been gone these dozen years or more. We had believed him killed. Ned now informs me that he lives."
"Oh my!" Diana exclaimed. "What a shock this must be. Is he safely home then?"
"I don't know, but I shan't waste any time finding out. If he is, I daresay he'll be in dire need of his old friends." He and Ned exchanged a significant look. "God knows how we will find him physically…or otherwise."
"Heaven knows indeed," Diana echoed sadly. "Do whatever you must, my love. I understand your haste and shall be fine."
***
An hour later, Ludovic had kissed her goodbye, leaving behind a hollow feeling in her chest. Though fatigue had once more set in, Diana avoided her bedchamber for fear of dampening her pillow with tears of self-pity. Instead, she moped about the empty house until returning to the library. Thinking a book might serve as a distraction, she searched amongst the vast collection of leather-bound spines for something to help her pass the time until her husband's return.
She pulled her beloved volume of John Donne's poetry from the shelf but then returned it for fear of the memories it surely would invoke. It was after reading The Dream that she had first fantasized of going to DeVere's bed. When she had eventually and inevitability succumbed to him, the reality had far exceeded her naïve fantasies of what could be between a woman and a man. He had loved her body and shown her pleasure in myriad manifestations, the memories of which even now filled her with longing for what had been and incited an ache deep within her.
Diana worried that she would never again experience such passion, that it was already spent—a mere three months into their marriage. Perhaps she was making too much of matters and all would return to normal after her lying in? Still she vowed, upon Ludovic's return, to do whatever she needed to do to reclaim him before his jaded eye wandered to another.
She paused her perusal of the bookshelves to rub the small of her back with a woeful sigh before finally settling on the latest novel penned by Fannie Burney—the adventures of a young heiress named Cecelia. She retrieved the book from the shelf, but by now her feet and back ached so badly, she dreaded the thought of climbing the stairs to her private apartments.
Instead, her gaze settled on her husband's highly comfortable and recently vacated chair. Alighting in the plush over-stuffed chair, Diana released a soft moan of contentment. Ensconced in the faint and wonderful scents of leather and Ludovic, a renewed calm settled over her. Giving in to the most unladylike urge to prop her feet on the desk, Diana took up a stack of papers to clear a spot, but a particular sheet of foolscap conspicuously penned in a most delicate and elaborate style of calligraphy caught her eye. It was definitely not a man's hand.
Curious, she picked up the letter. The wax seal had already been broken, revealing a terse note of only a few lines. She hesitated with a pang of guilt, knowing she should not proceed, but her current state of anxiety overcame her initial qualms.
Most honored Efendi,
It is with the greatest humility that I appeal to he who once safeguarded my life. It is with exceeding distress that I must entreat you once more, being much in need of a friend and protector. Your most devoted and obedient servant,
Salime
Diana clutched the missive to her breast with quivering lips. An old friend indeed! Was it truly a man named Simon he went so urgently to meet…or an erstwhile lover named Salime?
Chapter Thirty-one
With the temperature dropping and foul weather threatening, Ludovic and Ned departed Kent by coach. They spent the first couple of hours in laughter and fond reminiscing about their youthful days when they—with Simon—had wreaked havoc upon Westminster School. After then catching up on family matters, a companionable silence settled between them, allowing each to drift into solitary thought.
While Ludovic tried to maintain focus on Simon, the purpose of their trip, he couldn't quite lay aside his concerns about Diana. Although he had never been known for self-restraint, he was determined to keep her needs above his own and his hands off her—even if it killed him. Still, he had little trust in physicians and wondered if Ned had suffered the same extended period of sexual abstinence. "Ned," he finally ventured, "there is a matter plaguing me."
"Oh?" Ned's brows rose.
"Yes. One in which you are vastly more knowledgeable than I."
Ned looked bemused. "That's quite a confession, DeVere. I can't imagine what it might be."
"Breeding women," Ludovic replied.
"Ah." Ned nodded in understanding. "I am no expert, by any means. I doubt that any man is—but I agree they can be a trial. Happy one moment, crying the next. A man must exercise a great deal of patience with a pregnant wife."
"As you well know, patience has never been my strong suit."
Ned chuckled. "No indeed. But you must be tolerant with her changing moods."
"That's not quite the kind of patience I mean."
"Oh?" Ned gave a knowing smile. "I thought I detected a note of edginess. You must be referring to—"
"Yes. Damn it! How long must I wait? The damnable accoucheur has all but forbidden me to touch her."
"Is she that far advanced?"
"He says her time will arrive by month's end."
"Still weeks away then. So Diana has put you off?"
"Diana? No. Not precisely, but she's very fatigued. Retires early. Sleeps late."
"And she wants none of you in between?"
DeVere glowered. "I have not approached her."
Ned laughed. "Your mistake then, ole chum. Although women vary considerably in these matters, I found that unlike my frail Annalee, dear Phoebe, God bless her, was exceedingly amorous until the very end."
"What are you saying, Ned? That you fucked your wife until her delivery?"
"Crude as ever, DeVere, but yes. Indeed the very same day she gave birth to little Ned. The midwife even encouraged it, telling Phoebe that conjugal relations would relax her passage and ease the delivery."
"Bloody hell! That is completely contrary to what I was told by the man considered the foremost authority. I brought down James Ford, the bloody physician extraordinary to the Westminster Lying-In hospital, to examine Diana."
Ned shrugged. "Nevertheless, nature is oftimes superior to science."
Ludovic growled. "I'll string that sodding quack up by the bollacks when I next see him!"
"I do pity the man," Ned replied with martyr's sigh. "But not as much as myself at the moment."
"What the devil does that mean?" Ludovic snapped.
"It means we should stop for a drink along the way. I shall undoubtedly need something to help me bear your insufferable temper until you return to Diana's bed."
***
Diana paced and fretted for two entire days. The sheet of foolscap she carried about in her pocket had nearly disintegrated from the number of times she had read and crumpled it. At one point she had even thought to consign it to the flames. She had tossed it into the hearth, but then rescued it at the very last second. The letter was the source of her greatest pain, but also the source of her strength, for without it as evidence, she
would never be able to confront him. She would hear only what she wanted to hear from his lips, allowing her heart to deny the bald truth that stared at her in delicate strokes of black ink.
She had tried to banish all misgivings when she entered her marriage, but fragments lingered. Ludovic was restless and easily bored by nature. His temperament, unlike hers, was not well suited to domesticity. He had confessed as much many times before their marriage. Diana had accepted she could never change his nature, yet had hoped that out of her love for him, he would come to feel a certain fulfillment in his new role of husband and father. Perhaps she had been a fool to think it.
At first she had believed Ludovic reluctant to leave her for London, had imagined a certain wistful look upon their parting, but now she wondered if it was only her wishful fancy. The more she considered it, the more convinced she was, for had he not departed within two hours of Edward's arrival? Still, there remained a singular piece she could not puzzle out—Edward.
Had Edward truly brought tidings of a former comrade or had he delivered the letter from Salime? No. That was inconceivable. He was like a brother to Diana and never would be a willing party to any act of duplicity or a conspirator to infidelity. But why in all this time had she never even heard the name of Simon Singleton? Was it simply reticence on their part to speak of a man they presumed dead?
And the letter from Salime? Could its delivery have been purely coincidence? Of all people, of all Salime’s lovers, why in the world had she written to DeVere? Was this the first correspondence, or had she written before? Salime had never made any secret of her love for him, feelings Diana had believed unrequited…until now.
Was Salime truly in need, or could it be a clever ploy to draw him away from his wife at a propitious time? A time when he would be supremely vulnerable to her exotic wiles? Knowing how Salime felt about her husband, Diana could not trust the woman. She only prayed that if he had indeed gone to her, the honorable side of his nature, the one he had oftimes suppressed, would ultimately prevail.
***
DeVere House, Bloomsbury Square, the same night
It was very late when Ludovic arrived at DeVere House. He and Ned had required several drinks after seeing Simon—the poor wretched sod. Six years in captivity! Ludovic shook his head. Bloody hell. It was enough to destroy any man, let alone one like Simon—a man with a poet's heart.
A Devil Named DeVere (The Devil DeVere) Page 29