***
Agitated and restless, Diana paced her room until she thought she would burst from anticipation. At half past three, while Annalee napped, she and Edward followed the same path she had taken that morning to the stables where two of DeVere's junior grooms met them with a pair of saddled horses.
"My lord ordered it so," the groom said. "The lady will have a much better view of the field astride."
"But what of my mare, Cartimandua?" she asked.
"My lord has already taken her to the down."
"His jockey, you mean?"
"No, my lady, his lordship hisself rides the mare."
"Does he?" After the groom assisted her to mount, Diana turned to Edward with skepticism. "I thought it was Hewett DeVere who was such a noted horseman."
Ned laughed. "Who do you think taught him? DeVere is the devil on horseback. Though he is sadly lacking in discipline, Ludovic is actually a man of many talents, Diana. When he applies himself to a thing, he's a formidable force. Thus it's fortunate for the world around him that his passions quickly fade."
"I see," said Diana in bemusement. "He is a rather unusual man."
"Unusual? I might suggest ungovernable."
"You mean a rogue." Diana settled her skirts and took up the reins.
"It's not that he's without honor, Diana, but you must understand DeVere only follows his own code." Ned gave her a meaningful look and hoisted himself gracefully into the saddle. "I hope you'll take extreme care in any dealings with him. He is ruthless and calculating when he chooses to be and has a strong predilection to manipulate and exploit the vulnerabilities of others—when it suits his purpose. He just can't help himself. It's not that he's evil incarnate, or anything like that. It's just he has low tolerance for weakness, incompetence, or buffoonery."
Diana lifted her brow. "You know I am no fool, dear Edward. I take full responsibility for my actions and have already made clear what I am willing and not willing to sacrifice. You are truly like night and day, you and he," she remarked. "I marvel that you've maintained such a close friendship all these years."
Edward shrugged. "We are enough alike in matters of import. Though I may not approve of all his actions, how he chooses to live is his business. I shall never meddle." He inclined his head to the verdant landscape in the near distance. "Shall we go and watch the trials?"
"But of course!" Diana laughed and urged her horse into an easy canter.
***
The afternoon had proven a glorious diversion. During that brief period of watching the horses gallop across the down, Diana's spirits had risen, and her mind had cleared of any worry. Hew had ridden DeVere's stallion against DeVere on Cartimandua, and the lithe little chestnut mare had certainly held her own, keeping pace with the larger horse until the very last furlong when he began to gain ground. Although Prometheus won by a length, the horses were carrying unequal weight for size, which had placed the mare at a disadvantage. Aware of this, DeVere was suitably impressed with her.
"You were right. She's got both speed and bottom," he remarked upon dismounting and handed the horse off for hot-walking.
"She was bred to run, my lord, and moreover, to produce winners. If she wins tomorrow, you must help to ensure that I get the prize money to clear Reggie's debts, less what I owe you for the entry fee, of course."
"Perhaps I should remind you that your win is not assured," DeVere said.
"I know, my lord, but she has a good chance. You said so yourself."
"I'll allow you that," he agreed with a smile.
"I have one concern now," she said. "Who will ride her?"
"I have a very good man in Pratt," he said. "He's one of my best grooms. I willingly place him at your disposal."
"Then we are agreed, my lord?"
"Aye. Your mare will run."
Diana unclasped her pearls and handed them to DeVere with a satisfied smile. "Then mine was not such a ridiculous proposition after all."
"Mayhap not, but mine was far better," he added sotto voce, with a dark look that made her insides quiver.
The smile froze on Diana's face. "There is something you clearly do not yet understand, my lord. My virtue is neither for sale, nor for barter—under any circumstances."
DeVere answered with a cynical laugh. "My dear, there is something you have yet to learn. In this world, everything and everyone has a price."
***
Insufferable man! Diana's pulse pounded a furious drumbeat in her head. She had never known anyone who could inflame her to such a passion of pique as Ludovic DeVere. His arrogance was intolerable, yet all of her senses seemed to spring to life in his presence. He both taunted and tempted with his sardonic gaze of the deepest blue, and the mocking twist to his sensuous mouth.
Wish as she might, she found him impossible to ignore, especially the fact that he wanted her. This knowledge and the visions of him in her dreams incessantly plagued her thoughts. What would it be like just once to be his lover? She knew she could never act upon such a thing. She could never live with herself if she did, yet he still preoccupied her mind.
After the mare's cooling, Diana accompanied the groom and Cartimandua back to the stables where he led her into her box and then returned to the others on the down. Diana remained with her mare. While she and Reggie employed a number of boys in their stables, Diana had always enjoyed caring for her own mounts. It was an old and well-loved habit. The smells of fresh hay, oiled leather, and equine were a concoction that always soothed her soul.
Taking up a brush, she began stroking the sleek, chestnut coat. While the horse contentedly munched her oats, Diana remained enthralled with her thoughts of DeVere—until Reggie's voice jarred into her ruminations, and the boar's hair brush almost dropped from her hand. Her first impulse was to confront him, but his peculiar speech gave her pause.
"We were so close," Reggie said, clawing a hand through his thinning hair. "So damnably close to our plans coming to fruition. I was up at least a thousand at the Hazard table, but then my luck suddenly turned south. Cogged dice, it was! The bloody sharps! Half a dozen throws, and it was all gone. All we had hoped for dashed away!"
We? Our plans? Diana frowned. He was talking to his head groom, James Johnson, and while she was obscured from their view by her mare, she could clearly distinguish the two of them through the iron bars of the box stall.
"But we still have the race," answered Johnson. "While the prize money won't be as much as we'd hoped to gain, surely it will suffice for a time. Were you successful with O'Kelly's man?"
"Aye. The avaricious bastard. There was at least one hundred pounds in gold coin and bejeweled baubles in that purse."
Her purse! Her jewels!
"O'Kelly's man will need to disappear to the north," Johnson said. "The Colonel is not a man to cross."
"Precisely why we have taken particular care in our arrangements, but the matter is settled," Reggie said with a dismissive wave. "What now of DeVere's jockey groom? Have you made contact with him yet?"
"Aye. Pratt seems a pliable sort. Given a bit of grease, he'll throw the race sure enough," said Johnson.
"How much?" Reggie asked.
"Fifty quid should suffice."
"'Tis near enough to keep him in the style of a gentleman for a year. Tell him he gets half now and the rest after we win. You are as sure of him as we are of the other?"
"Aye. More so. He risks nothing as his lordship's horse is untried and a long shot at best. 'Twill be no surprise if they lose, and the groom needn't fear getting the boot."
"Then that takes care of our two main competitors."
"But there be six running. What if we don't win?"
"There you go again! Don't even think such negative thoughts. You know our entire fate rests between your hands and that stallion's legs. Win that race for us and you win our freedom."
"You are certain about this, Reggie?" Johnson said. "You are still willing to make the sacrifice?"
Their nefarious plan to fix t
he race had become clear, but Diana found her bewilderment only increasing. Sacrifice? What on earth were they talking about?
A pause followed. "Have I ever given you reason to doubt me before, my dear?"
My dear? She shook her head, disbelieving her ears. Why would Reggie be on such terms of affection with his groom?
"Never," Johnson answered.
"Good then. Don't start now," said Reggie.
"But you have so much more to lose than I."
"No dearest, we've so much to gain," said Reggie. His tone had softened. He smiled tenderly and reached out a hand to Johnson's shoulder.
"But your position, your estate—"
"Mean nothing to me, while you are everything. You must always remember that, Jemmie. Win us the three thousand, and we'll be on the first packet to France and then on to Italy. Devil take the hindmost."
"Italy," Johnson murmured, a note of wistfulness in his voice. "Is it really so different there?"
"I have never been, but I have it straight from Thomas Patch who makes his livelihood painting portraits of English gentlemen on the grand tour, that none in Florence have ever looked askance at he and Horace. In Italy, we'll have no need to hide our love in shame."
Reggie cast a glance down the aisle in both directions. His voice lowered and grew almost unrecognizably thick. "As to that, are you quite certain we're alone here?"
"Aye, but they'll be readying the next lot of horses within the hour to take to the down."
"Will they, indeed? Then let us steal what time we may." They proceeded toward the empty boxes farther down and Diana heard the door of one of them slide open and close again, thereby muffling the voices. In a daze of incredulity, she exited her horse's box. Hugging the wall, she moved stealthily down the wide-cobbled aisle until she heard the low murmurs accompanied now by panting breaths.
Rising onto her toes, she peered over the top of the wall, and her stomach lurched. For between the iron bars, the truth of her fraudulent marriage flashed before her eyes. Reggie had Johnson in an impassioned embrace with their mouths melded in a lovers' kiss. The quivers of shock resonated through her in rivulets that fast became a raging torrent when the latter released her husband's erect penis from his breeches and went down on his knees.
Stifling her gasp with her fist, Diana fled the stables before her own legs buckled beneath her. She ran blindly back up the gravel path. What a bloody fool she'd been! How could she not have realized? She'd already known of Reggie's unnatural preference in the bedchamber, yet in her naiveté, she'd never fathomed that he might secretly be a sodomite. It was a whispered abomination, a crime against God and nature, a deadly sin preached from every pulpit that warranted the Old Testament penalty of death. It was nothing she ever could have foreseen touching her own life.
She reached the house, darting past the bewildered servants and scurrying up the staircase to the sanctuary of her own chambers. She only managed to close the door behind her when her tremulous body gave way. Closing her eyes in shock and mortification, she slid against the door into a crumpled heap, face buried in her hands. It was there alone that she finally broke down.
Chapter Eight
"Are you all right, my lady?" Polly asked with a look of apprehension.
Diana knew she was a mess both inside and out. Weak and mildly nauseated from her exhausting emotional display, her eyes burned, and her hair hung limp and lank about her tearstained face. She needed no mirror to explain the maid's alarm. "Yes, Polly. I must have fainted," she lied. "But I'm fine now." She rose from the floor on shaky legs, brushing her skirts with trembling hands.
"Fainted?" The maid's brows rose to her hairline. "I've never known you to faint before, my lady. You don't think you could possibly be…"
Diana choked on a laugh, a half-crazed sound. "My dear Polly, of that I am certain."
Polly regarded her mistress with a concerned frown. "You don't look yourself at all, my lady. Mayhap you should take to your bed." Giving Diana no chance to resist, Polly looped a strong arm about her mistress's waist and guided her across the room to the adjacent bedchamber. "You sought his lordship earlier," she said. "He returned to his apartments about an hour ago. I must say he was in much better humor than when he left this morning. Shall I call him for you?"
"No," Diana almost gasped. "I have no need of Lord Reggie. I'm sure a bath and a good night's rest will see me completely restored. Pray convey to Lady Chambers that I shan't join them for supper this evening."
"Would you have a tray sent to your room, then?" Polly asked.
"No, thank you." The thought of food almost made Diana retch. "If you will only call for hot water and help me to disrobe."
The hot bath that followed soothed her shattered nerves, or perhaps it was really the medicinal dose of brandy Polly produced which Diana threw back in one long and unladylike, draining draught. It burned its way from her throat to her belly, but then quickly filled her with a welcoming languor, thanks to her empty stomach. Diana's mind whirled with the various repercussions of her discovery.
Ten years together, and she had never had an inkling, yet having had time to overcome her initial shock, she saw that Reggie's behavior made perfect sense. She understood now that he had felt as trapped by their marriage as she, although he had certainly had a choice in the matter. While Diana had wed him out of duty to her parents, she had known that Reggie's motives had been entirely mercenary. Through their marriage, Diana had provided him with a title, income, and substantial properties. She had satisfied his need to live as a gentleman in the hopes they would come to rub along together, but now she understood the impossibility of that and of the more private needs she could never satisfy.
Ten years of her life wasted. Her youth sacrificed waiting and hoping for something that could never be, that never had any chance to begin with—purely because she was a woman. He had chosen to live the lie, and for that, he had punished her. He had fed her self-doubts and insecurities daily by making her question her own worth as a wife, as a woman. She felt betrayed and dishonored, a realization that filled her with an impotent rage. If she were a man, she would deal with it in a man's way—with pistols at dawn— but she was a woman, a woman now in desperate need of vindication...of validation.
The recognition of this one simple fact, of her legitimate need to feel appreciated, to be desired, was somehow liberating and empowering. Perhaps it was the drink that falsely bolstered her confidence, for with a calm resolution she never would have thought herself capable of, Diana determined to reclaim what had been taken from her.
***
The hour was well advanced when she approached the dressing table. She slipped off her night rail, and selecting her favorite scent of damask rose, strategically daubed the stopper at her neck—remembering with a shiver how his lips had grazed it—and then between the full breasts he had openly admired. She cupped them now, the weight of them heavy in her hands, and regarded her reflection, wondering what he would see, how he would react when she disrobed for him. Would she be all that he had imagined, or in some way disappointing? It took a conscious effort to tamp down the virulent doubts that threatened her resolve.
Forgoing the gown she'd discarded, Diana donned only her wrapper, a diaphanous silk. She took down her hair, riffling her fingers through the waves until they cascaded over her shoulders, and by the light of a single candle, ventured to the north wing apartments and Lord DeVere.
***
Ludovic raked an exasperated hand over his stubbled jaw and took a long drink. Although he wouldn't relish the nights he would now spend palming himself, he had at last bid Caroline her overdue farewell. Lewd and adventurous, she'd been his longest bed partner, but he'd long become bored with her shallow vanity and irritated by her constant demands on his time and attention. Still, he didn't doubt Diana's arrival had been the final impetus for her dismissal. The frustration he now felt was a bittersweet penalty for his impetuous actions.
He didn't know what it was about Diana th
at got under his skin. She was handsome and voluptuous, the type that attracted him most, but he'd known women more beautiful and charming than she. Perhaps it was the heat he detected beneath that thick layer of icy reserve? His instincts were never wrong about that. No doubt it was also the challenge she presented, the difficulty of the conquest that appealed to him. He'd not been challenged by a woman in a very long time.
He hadn't seen the baroness since that morning and had no doubt that she was avoiding him. He wondered if he'd overplayed his hand in making his desire for her so clear. He'd ensured she had no doubt of his interest, several times even. He'd never known a woman to refuse his bed once his interest was made known. She was more than ripe for an amorous interlude. The air between them virtually crackled with sexual tension at every encounter. Yet still, she had demurred. Damn her.
The thought of inciting her to embrace her darkest desires, to unleash her passion was the incarnation of his most erotic dreams. Bloody hell! It was enough to drive him mad. He couldn't remember the last time any woman had invoked such a carnal hunger. Damn, his cock throbbed at the thought of those magnificent white mounds. He wanted to pillow his face in them and suckle the dusky peaks while burying himself cock to balls inside her.
It was then that he saw movement. "Damn it, Caroline! I thought you had departed this afternoon for The Oaks. I've already made my sentiments perfectly clear. Why must you make this so bloody difficult?" Ludovic was incensed. He rose, setting his glass down with a decisive clink, but three paces revealed his error.
If he'd wanted Diana before, his desire was magnified tenfold by the vision of her in his bedchamber. Garbed in diaphanous silk that clung to every luscious curve, her russet waves fell in a wanton cascade over her shoulders. Eyes of moss-green regarded him with luminous trepidation. She had come to him at last. His cock twitched in eager anticipation for the answer to his most selfish prayers.
***
It was with a feeling of déjà vu that Diana entered the viscount's bedchamber. The rooms were much as she had envisaged in her dream, her footsteps muffled by the deep plush carpeting, the massive tester bed with its curtains drawn back, the flickering candle in her hand, except that when she drew near, she found the bed empty. Her heart dropped like a stone.
A Devil Named DeVere (The Devil DeVere) Page 7
