The Devil You Know (8 page)

Edward?”

Edward looked pensive. “Are you quite sure about this, Di-

ana? Although I can’t blame your desire to take such steps given

the present situation, you are not mistaken about becoming a pa-

riah.”

“As long as I can count on the both of you, I have no need of

anyone else,” she declared.

“But of course we would stand by you. Always, dearest,” said

Annalee.

44

Victoria Vane

“But as a woman, you have no property rights. If granted a

legal separation, he will get everything.”

“But what if nothing remains to begin with?” Diana laughed

bitterly.

“Then how do you propose to live?” he asked.

“I know what I must do, Edward. As ironic as it seems, the

race appears my best hope of recovery.”

Edward made an exasperated sound. “You mean to throw

good money after bad? What if you lose?”

Annalee gave her husband a reproachful look. “Diana is al-

ways welcome in our home.”

Diana laughed. “Never you worry, Edward. I shan’t allow

myself to be foisted upon you as a dependent relation. I’ll surely

contrive some other way.”

Edward looked dubious.

“How can we help you?” Annalee asked.

“If I’m going to run Cartimandua, I have need of two things—

the entry fee and a jockey.”

“You are aware that the entry fee is two hundred fifty

pounds?” he asked.

Diana fingered the strand of pearls at her neck. “I was hoping

you could make me a loan against these.”

Edward gave her an apologetic look. “I’m so sorry, my dear,

but I just don’t have that much available to me at such short no-

tice. Had I only a day to send to London...”

“There’s no time.” Her spirits plummeted. “The race is to-

morrow.”

“Then I’ll speak to DeVere,” Edward said. “I’ll ask him for a

personal loan. He need never know what it is for.”

“No,” Diana protested. “I won’t presume on your friendship

like that. If anyone must go to DeVere, let it be me.”

Edward colored. “I don’t know if that is the wisest course, Di-

ana. Although he’s my closest friend, he’s not to be trusted where

women are concerned.”

“What I propose is a simple
business
transaction,” she argued.

“Simple?” Edward laughed. “That’s where you are wrong my

dear. Nothing is ever
simple
with DeVere. I fear any transaction

made with him will be much more than you bargained for.”

45

The Devil You Know

“I thank you for the word of warning, dear Edward, but rest

assured, I am not susceptible to such men. DeVere may accept or

decline my proposal as he wishes.”

Diana didn’t have to w
***

ait long for an answer to her message.

Within an hour of DeVere’s return, he sent word via a footman

for her to meet him in his private withdrawing room. She was

surprised to find him waiting for her, looking like he had just fin-

ished his toilette. His black hair was damp and hung loosely about

his shoulders. He was informally clothed in a dressing gown over

his smallclothes and devoid of cravat over his fine lawn shirt. Di-

ana struggled to pull her gaze from the strong column of his neck,

a sight that seemed almost illicit in its visual appeal. His state of

casual undress made her oddly uncomfortable, as if he implied

they were on terms of some intimacy, rather than near-strangers.

DeVere swept her an almost-mocking bow.

“A thousand pardons for interrupting you,” Diana said. “But

I have a personal matter that Edward felt you might be inclined

to assist with.”

He replied with his sardonic smile. “And you have come to

me? How extraordinary. Whatever it might be, you may consider

me at your disposal.”

“While I appreciate your graciousness, my lord, I would nev-

er accept such a blank check from anyone.”

He inclined his head to a velvet-covered settee. “Then pray

tell me what I can do for you.” He waited for her to settle her

skirts and then joined her, draping an arm casually over the back.

Diana shifted forward on the seat, all too aware of the tantaliz-

ing and unsettling fusion of sandalwood shaving soap and musky

male. His proximity and scent were a combined assault that jan-

gled her nerves and made her breath quicken. Diana fussed with

a fold in her skirts, not daring to meet his gaze straight-on for fear

he might be able to read her lustful thoughts.

“It concerns the races tomorrow.” She glanced up to find De-

Vere studying her with an inscrutable expression. “I wish to make

a late entry.”

“But hasn’t Lord Reginald already entered a horse to race?”

“He has, but there is another...a mare. I want to run her.”

“There can only be one entry per owner.”

46

Victoria Vane

“But
I
am the owner,” she said. “The mare is mine. We had

brought her to Epsom for breeding, but now I wish her to race.”

He looked puzzled. “You would wager against your own

husband?”

“Yes. My mare is the better horse.”

His brows shot up. “That’s quite an extraordinary claim.”

“She is an extraordinary mare. I raised this horse, my lord,

bottle-fed her when her dam rejected her. She was such a puny

thing, we never thought she’d survive, let alone race, but she’s

fleet as a gazelle. In truth, I was glad to hear of the subscription

race for mares.”

“Ah, but you do not perceive my
modus operandi
.”

“What do you mean?”

“I purchased this property to expand my racing stud and am

in need of superior broodmares. How better to find the best than

to see them run?”

“Devious, indeed!” She laughed. “But won’t winning mares

come at a premium price?”

“Price is little object when I want something.” He gave her a

meaningful smile. “But there is one thing I don’t understand. If

what you say is true, why did your husband not enter this horse?”

“Because my husband seems to have very fixed notions about

the inferiority of females
.
”

“Following the
general
principles of nature, I would have to

agree with him. However, one does upon occasion discover some

most remarkable specimens among your gender.” His gaze swept

slowly over her, creating a wave of heat in its wake. “You are

aware the entry fee is two hundred fifty pounds?”

“Yes,” she said. It was a small fortune, yet a much larger one

awaited the winner. “That is why I have come to you privately. I

would like to keep this matter quiet. Just between us.” Reaching

behind her neck with trembling hands, Diana fumbled to unclasp

the double strand of pearls. The action thrust her breasts upward.

DeVere’s eyes were fixed on her motions the entire time, an ap-

preciative smile hovering over his mouth. His pupils flared with

greater interest when the pearls suddenly released and dropped

into her bodice.

His lips twitched. “I don’t suppose you require any assis-

tance?”

47

Her stomach fluttered and she felt the heat of color suffuse

her cheeks. “No, my lord. I can manage, thank you.” She retrieved

the necklace and held the warm pearls in her hand for a long mo-

ment, gauging their weight against her decision. At length, she

dropped them in her lap in front of him. “They are a family heir-

loom,” she said. “The clasp is diamond. I don’t have an appraisal,

but I assure you they are worth at least half the subscription fee.”

“And the other half?”

“My mare, Cartimandua. She carries premium racing blood,

and you’ve just said you wish to improve your racing stud.” Di-

ana prayed she would not have to make that sacrifice.

DeVere stared down at the pearls with a confounded frown.

“A necklace and a horse? Do you take me for a pawnbroker, mad-

am?”“No,” she said. “I take you for a gentleman. One who might

be inclined to assist a lady in need.”

“You appeal to my sense of chivalry?” DeVere laughed. “How

droll to imagine anyone thinks I have one!”

“I know you are aware of my tenuous circumstances. My hus-

band has us on the brink of ruin.”

DeVere frowned, neither confirming nor denying the state-

ment. “And how came you by this information?”

“I have no desire to discuss it.” She evaded his question. “But

the way I see it, this race is my only hope of recovery. Of keeping

what is rightly mine.”

DeVere took up the necklace, lacing the pearls between his

fingers as if admiring their luminescence. He looked into her face

with an intense and assessing expression, a combination of inter-

est and calculation that sent a scintillating shiver of awareness

through her.

“Your
only
hope?” he murmured. “Surely not. You lack imagi-

nation, my dear.”

“I don’t understand,” she said.
But perhaps I really do
.

Her breath seized when DeVere’s hand left the back of the

settle. He trailed his fingers gently over her skin from her bared

shoulder to her nape where he toyed with a loose curl. He ma-

neuvered behind her, pearls in hand. “Oh, but I’m sure you do.”

The light touch of his fingers whispering over her skin as he

replaced the pearls sent flares of sensation plummeting to a place

deep in her belly. She closed her eyes, overwhelmed with acute

48

Victoria Vane

awareness of his all-too-masculine and too-close presence and his

spicy sandalwood and male scent, but at the same time wanting

nothing more than to drink him in. Her body tensed at his warm

breath caressing her neck as softly as the words he murmured

against her hair. “There is no need to be coy. There is at least one

other,
far better
option for you to consider…and all you have to do

is whisper one simple, little word.”

One simple, little word.
It was as if she’d fallen into her own

erotic dream.
You only have to say yes, and I will lay paradise at your

feet.
She quivered inside as he fastened the clasp. His lips scorched

her nape, firing an agonizing ache in her womb and a descent of

hot, wet heat that dampened her thighs. She dared not open her

eyes. She dared not even breathe for fear of breaking the seductive

spell woven by her satyr’s words, his caress, and the brush of his

lips. His hand was metaphorically outstretched, and Diana felt

the word taking shape in her mind, flowing outward, and form-

ing itself on the tip of her tongue.

“There you are, darling.” The voice of the duchess shattered

the illusion with stark reality.

“Bloody hell! God damned bloody hell!” Diana heard DeVere

growl through his teeth.

She looked up to find Caroline paused on the threshold be-

tween DeVere’s bedchamber and the sitting room. She shot Diana

a virulent look “Why Baroness! What on earth could you be doing

all alone with Lord DeVere in his private apartments? One could

come to so many wicked conclusions, you know. I wonder what

your husband would say?”

“That’s enough, Caro!” DeVere snapped. “The lady and I had

some private business to discuss.”

She chuckled. “Darling, there is only one kind of business I

know of that requires you to put your hands on her body.”

“You presume falsely, duchess. I was having trouble with the

clasp.” Diana knew her protest was as feeble as her alibi. “But

our business is most certainly complete.” Diana rose, anger at her

own weakness fueling her words. “I see how mistaken I was to

come here. I had even been forewarned what manner of man you

are. Now I know there is only one kind of
gallantry
you under-

stand. A good afternoon to you, my Lord DeVere.” Diana crossed

the room in a fury of swishing silk.

49

The Devil You Know

Caroline swiftly took the place she had abandoned by the vis-

count’s side.

“Four o’clock,” he said, just as Diana’s hand touched the

doorknob.

Diana spun around. “Excuse me?”

“I will see the mare run at four o’clock.”

She almost forgot to breathe. “Then we have an agreement?”

“A
conditional
agreement,” he responded. “I won’t allow you

to hazard what little remains in your possession unless I deem her

a true prospect to win.”

“It is hardly your decision what I do with my jewels or my

horse, but you won’t be disappointed,” Diana said.

The corner of his lips twitched. “I hope not. Twice in one day

would surely be more than I can bear.”

50

Chapter Six

“Darling, when you return to town after entertaining these

rustics,
don’t you think we should make it official? I am three months out of mourning, after all. Not that our...arrangement

is any particular secret.” Caroline chuckled as she traced circles

around the flat disk of his nipple.

Her words sounded a deafening alarm in his head, pulling

Ludovic abruptly from his sex-sated stupor. He regarded Caroline

from under a deceptively hooded gaze. “Official?” he drawled.