The Devil's Match (9 page)

“That may have been true in the very beginning,
but I told you, you are different to me. Your fire, your passion,
it represents truth. You feel deeply, Diana, and do not conceal it.
When we were together, I was more alive because of you. I wanted
more of that...but then certain circumstances made it
impossible.”

“Certain circumstances or certain people?” she
asked.

“Ah, so clarity does come at last! Yes, Diana,
Caroline would have destroyed you. I would not be responsible for
that.”

“So you hied off to God-knows-where in order to
protect me?”

“Yes. Leaving my home and my brother was not my
preference, but I could not have protected you otherwise.”

“Yet you hardly pined for your loss of me, and
you stayed away far longer than was necessary.”

“I don’t deny I have enjoyed the company and the
favors of other women, but the majority of them—as most of the
people in my life, Hew and Ned excluded—have been largely
parasitic. It’s mutual, of course, for I have taken what I desired
in return.”

“A confession that brings us full circle, my
lord.”

“No, Diana. There you are wrong. I never took
anything from you that was not freely offered, and for the record,
I reciprocated more than I have with any other. I ask nothing from
you now beyond the same honesty you once gave me. I am weary of
being surrounded by nothing but greed and vice.”

“Because you seek it out!” she insisted. “And if
anything good came to lie at your feet, you would be too blinded by
hedonistic self-indulgence to see it!”

“Wrong again, my love,” he murmured. “For
I clearly see
you.
”

***

Diana opened her mouth to remonstrate, but no
sound emerged.

Sensing her lowered guard, he entrapped her
between his body and the marble balustrade in front of them,
brushing his fingers along the neckline of her bodice, locating her
nipples, while he sucked her neck. He found the hollow place behind
her ear with his tongue, and her erstwhile protest transformed into
a strangled moan.

“Are you going to bite me again?” he asked. “Or
do I take that sound as an invitation?”

“Please, don’t,” she protested, even as she
tilted her head back, giving him easier access.

“Still, you contradict yourself,” he said,
licking and nibbling her skin while his thumb and forefinger teased
her nipple. “The truth now, Diana. Do you
truly
wish me to stop? Or shall I take that rosy
nipple into my mouth and suckle it while I finger you until you
scream? Or would you rather I tongue you to your release? I would
be happy to comply with either. The door is locked, and I would be
concealed by those voluminous skirts of yours. Thus, it is purely
your preference.”

“Dear God,” she cried out, a sound of mixed
pleasure and protest. “Why are you doing this?”

“Because I’m a ruthless bastard when I want
something, and I want the truth from you. If I must go to my knees
to get it...so be it.”

She gasped in another halfhearted protest, her
chest rapidly rising and falling as he cupped her breasts,
squeezing and molding the soft mounds. He ground his cock against
her buttocks, and she arched into him with a soft cry. He released
one breast to inch under her petticoat, skirting up the inside of
her smooth, quivering thighs, until he approached the object of his
desire. To his smug satisfaction, he found her wet with the want
she so vehemently denied.

“A mere touch, and you’d explode,” he remarked.
“Don’t dare refute it now, Diana. I’ve never known a woman want to
come so badly. I can cure your ache. I can give you what you
want...what you need.”

“Damn you to hell, DeVere!” she cried,
jerking out of his hold. “Yes, I want you
now,
but I would despise myself for it the
moment we finished.”

“Why?” he asked, confounded.

“Why? Because I once confused passion for deeper
feeling. I won’t make that mistake again.”

“But don’t you remember how it was between us? I
can bring you rapture. You know that. What harm is there?”

“Surely the same words the serpent whispered to
Eve,” she retorted. “I can’t deny the physical attraction between
us, but it’s not enough for me. I refuse to seek empty pleasure in
meaningless copulation.”

“What the devil do you want from me?” Ludovic
cried in a growing agony born of mounting frustration.

“Absolutely nothing, my lord. I don’t love or
even respect you. I find you arrogant, selfish, immoral, and
altogether lacking in character.”

He flinched as if she’d slapped him. “Me?
Lacking
character
?”

“Yes,” she replied, “and of the two of you, Hew
is by far the better man. Now pray unhand me.”

And in his speechless amazement, Ludovic did
just that.

***

With the terrace door locked, Diana fled through
the gardens and around to the servants’ entrance. Seeking the
solace of her bedchamber, she wended her way through the army of
surprised maids and footmen who tended the party, too rattled to do
more than nod. She took the backstairs to her room, knowing her
absence would soon be noted but desperate for time alone to
recompose her jangled nerves.

She strode to her dressing table to repair at
least the superficial damage wrought by the amorous encounter.
Diana pinned up stray strands of hair with trembling fingers.

Four years.
It
had been four years since she’d felt a man’s touch, a lover’s lips.
In the beginning, the craving had been a persistent ache deep in
her belly, but over time, it had mercifully dulled until almost
imperceptible, only evincing itself again with a ferocity the day
she walked in on Edward and Phoebe. They had just wed, and she’d
barged into his study with only a perfunctory knock to find them
with clothing askew, locked in an impassioned embrace. The sight of
them, disheveled and flushing, had reawakened the yearning for
physical intimacy with a vengeance.

She had thought to escape the constant reminder
and the awkwardness of the situation by taking Vesta to London. Her
only qualm had been the prospect of encountering DeVere, her one
and only lover, the man who had opened the door to paradise only to
abruptly disappear from her life with no explanation. She had
despised him for that—for giving her what she most craved only to
take it away. But now pieces of the puzzle had begun to come
together.

She knew Caroline had wanted him back. The
duchess had made no secret of it. She had also been in league with
Reggie. Caroline had known things no one else was privy to. Was it
possible she’d tried to blackmail DeVere?

He had confessed tonight that he’d left to
protect Diana’s good name, but she had believed the very worst of
him all this time, had even briefly suspected him of murdering
Reggie. Then tonight, she had added insult to injury by impugning
his manhood, his honor. He’d not been unaffected by her verbal
assault. Indeed, he’d looked almost stricken. It gave her
pause.

Diana now recalled her recent visit from
the courtesan, Salime, and all
that
had revealed. Was it possible she’d misjudged him? Her chest
constricted at the very notion. For if DeVere was only half the
villain she believed him to be...wanted him to be...Diana’s heart
was in grave danger indeed.

Chapter Nine

Long after the party ended, DeVere sprawled in
the leather chair in Ned’s study. His boots kicked off, coat and
cravat discarded, he stared blankly into the empty hearth. “I want
her, Ned,” he said. “My bloody bollacks ache for want of her.”

Ned poured them both a drink, replying without
the least compassion, “If you refer to Diana, my friend, you waste
your effort sniffing about her skirts. She won’t have you. I’ve
told you so before. She’s a virtuous woman, not a plaything. I’d
advise you to slake your lust elsewhere.”

“But that’s the damnable thing about it.
Fucking is what I like best. It’s what I
do
best, and yet I can’t seem to summon any
fucking enthusiasm for it. What the devil is wrong with
me?”

“When was the last time, DeVere?”

“Damned near three weeks ago. I feel like a
monk.”

Ned arched a brow. “Dare I ask about your state
of health?”

“Hang you, Ned!” DeVere growled. “I don’t
have the bloody pox! You know I always take precautions. It’s not
that I
can’t
, it’s that I’ve
lost the desire for any other woman. Yet the moment
she
walks into a room, I find myself
nearing a full cockstand. I’m so full of my own unspent essence
that I can’t think straight.”

“There’s always the old way,” Ned suggested with
a grin.

“And I’ve bloody well blistered my palm frigging
myself. It’s to no avail. No, Ned. I will have her. One way or
another.”

“Take care, DeVere,” Ned warned. “Diana has no
husband, brother, or father to protect her, thus I willingly
appoint myself to the role. She is a grown woman who can make her
own decisions, for the better or worse. But if she won’t have you,
I advise you to let her be. I will not allow you to harass
her.”

DeVere smirked. “Is that a threat?”

Ned raised his glass and smiled back at him.
“No, my dear friend. It’s a promise. Speaking of which, I promised
my darling wife I would not leave her alone in a cold bed.”

DeVere glared. “I think you delight in rubbing
salt in my wound.”

“I do, indeed.” Ned chuckled and stood. “What
are your plans? Do you stay until the wedding? Or do you return for
the sacrament?”

“Actually, you have timed the event poorly, for
it coincides with the derby races at Epsom.”

“You don’t mean to say you would miss your only
brother’s wedding for a race?”

“It’s not just
any
race, Ned. It’s for two thousand guineas,
and I have the winning horse. He proved himself nigh unbeatable in
Doncaster this week. But no, I don’t wish to miss the happy
occasion. Instead, I have a proposition for you, one I think shall
answer nicely. Why not hold the wedding at Woodcote Park? A great
many of our mutual acquaintances will already be gathered there.
Besides, I have decided to gift the estate to Hew and Vesta. What
more opportune time to tell them?”

Ned’s brows rose. “You are deeding them Woodcote
Park?”

“That is my intention. Hew is very fond of the
place while my own attachments to it has greatly waned. I am
thinking now to establish my stables closer to Newmarket.”

“That’s exceedingly generous,” Ned said. “And
actually, DeVere, I think it a splendid idea. I think they would be
delighted to wed there. We can always hold a traditional wedding
breakfast for them here at a later date.”

“Capital. Then I shall depart in the morning to
make preparations. I shall expect you all in a fortnight.”

“I have only one hesitation,” Ned said.

DeVere cocked a brow.

“What of Diana? There was much unpleasantness
the last time we were all gathered there—her husband’s death was
quite a shock. I fear it may be too much for her to return.”

“You and I both know Diana is not so faint
hearted. Besides,” Ludovic added with rare reflection, “how better
to exorcise the specters of the past?”

***

Diana rose intentionally late and ordered
breakfast in her room in hope of avoiding Lord DeVere but soon
learned she needn’t have worried. Contrary to his custom, he had
ridden out early that morning bound for Epsom. Indeed, she thought
it unlikely he had ever gone to his bed at all. Unable to sleep,
she’d heard Edward’s footfalls softly creeping down the hall to the
master bedchamber just before dawn, but no other had come
after.

She told herself she was relieved not to have to
face him after what had transpired on the terrace. She was glad to
avoid the awkwardness and antipathy, for surely it could only be so
after her poisonous invective. Yet unwanted thoughts of him
lingered. His scandalously seductive suggestions had burned into
her brain the same way his scorching mouth had marked her skin. It
would be so very easy to give in, to take her pleasure with the
same selfish greed others did, but then the emptiness would follow.
She now understood the behavior of people like DeVere and Caroline,
who passed from one lover to the next, persistently seeking meaning
in the meaningless—for the same hollow ache now haunted her. She
had endured it for the last four years.

No, she didn’t want that, couldn’t bear it
again. She wished she knew why DeVere affected her so, and even
more that she had some miraculous purgative to expunge him from her
system. Diana had long determined she would have a whole man, one
capable of giving her love and respect, or none at all...and the
latter seemed a bleak, but real prospect.

Polly had already begun packing her trunk for
her return home when Vesta bound into her chamber. “We missed you
at breakfast, Aunt Di.”

“I was exhausted after last night,” she offered
her excuse. “It was a truly lovely party, Vesta.”

“Wasn’t it, though?” the younger woman gushed,
dreamy-eyed. “And now it’s official. Hew and I are to be wed in a
fortnight.”

“So soon? A fortnight is scarce long enough to
arrange everything. Shall I stay to help? Poor Phoebe is barely
accustomed to the household. To plan a wedding would surely be
overwhelming for her.”

“Poor
Phoebe?”
Vesta repeated.

“Yes, Vesta. Upon closer acquaintance, I think I
am guilty of misjudging her. She has all the marks of genteel
breeding and is not at all the strumpet I had presumed her to
be.”