The Devil's Match Page 13

  “Now, my lady?” Polly cast a wistful gaze to her incongruous lover. “Do you mean for us to return so soon to Yorkshire?”

  “No, Polly. I suppose under the circumstances it would be best to send you to Epsom to wait upon Lady Vesta. I shall also provide you with a generous severance, but I’m certain she would be delighted to take you into her employ. I presume under the circumstances that Mr. Pratt will have no objection to escorting you there?”

  “Nay, indeed.” The groom tugged his forelock and offered a cheeky grin.

  “But what of you, my lady? What has happened that you would depart so abruptly? It’s him again, isn’t it?”

  Diana arched a brow. “I don’t wish to discuss this at present. Suffice to say that with Sir Edward and Vesta both wed, there is little for me to return to. I have need of a change, Polly, and have decided to go abroad for a time. I will write later and explain everything, but for now, I wish no further delay.”

  ***

  Diana stared sightlessly out the carriage window, lost in deep abstraction. Though she never could have anticipated it, everything in her life had changed, and there truly was no going back, no retreat. Diana didn’t know what the future would hold, but she had already experienced the emptiness of her past. Thus, she had resolved to brazen forth to meet her fate head-on with a bold audacity she hadn’t even known she possessed.

  After what seemed like interminable hours travelling in the unavoidable fits and starts of London’s morning traffic, she finally arrived at her destination. The driver opened her door and let down the steps. She alighted to be greeted with a burst of damp, ocean-scented air. “Which is it?” she asked the coachman.

  “The first one, my lady. The Sylphe.”

  No sooner had he answered than DeVere himself appeared, advancing toward her in long, purposeful strides, a look of immense relief replacing the strain that had briefly etched his face. He pulled her into an impassioned embrace, kissing her long and deep. “I had the greatest fear you had changed your mind,” he said.

  “No, my love. I’m so sorry to have caused you any distress. It was only the traffic that kept me. I have had no second thoughts,” she assured him. “But what of you?”

  “None. Indeed, I have never felt happier. I’m damned-near giddy.”

  “Giddy?” she repeated dubiously.

  “Yes. Positively drunk with bliss. You have charmed and enslaved me, my dearest.”

  “Have I, indeed?”

  “Yes. You have,” he said, all humor evaporating. They stood thus for an endless moment, searching one another’s eyes. DeVere broke the silence. He gestured to the elegant yacht moored in the harbor. “Our vessel awaits, and I promise all has been prepared for your comfort, my love.”

  “Do you know, I’ve never been on a sea voyage, Ludovic? I’ve never been out of the country.”

  He took her arm with a brilliant smile. “Then adventure awaits, and once more, I’m delighted to be your guide.”

  “But where will we go?” she asked.

  “My dearest Diana,” he kissed her tenderly, “where ever your heart desires.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Tuscany, fourteen months later

  Diana opened her eyes to the sun blazing into the Tuscan villa through the open terrace doors. She gave a lazy, feline stretch before a flash of white caught her eye. Throwing on her wrapper, she padded barefoot to find Ludovic perusing some letters over his coffee. He was dressed in only breeches and shirtsleeves, his collar open at the throat. He glanced up at her and instantly smiled, his teeth gleaming brilliantly white and his eyes startlingly blue in his handsome, sun-bronzed face. A mere flick of his finger saw a cup of frothy, steaming brew and a basket of sweet rolls and cake placed under her nose.

  “You’ve been sleeping unusually late,” he remarked. She noted the curious flicker in his gaze.

  “Yes, I fear it’s become an atrociously bad habit with me, but it seems I get very little rest at night.” She fought to control the tug at her lips.

  He tented his brows at her. “Is that a complaint?”

  “Not at all, my lord,” she reassured him with a grin.

  “That’s a good thing then, for I’ve no intention of moderating my nocturnal activities.”

  She raised her cup and blew on the coffee. “Then I suppose I’ll just have to continue lazing abed in the mornings. Have you a letter from Hew?” She peered over his arm.

  “From Hew and Ned both, actually. All is well with Phoebe and little Ned, and it seems I am soon to become an uncle as well.”

  “Hew and Vesta too?” she cried. “Already?”

  “My brother is nothing, if not efficient.”

  “Efficient? How unflattering that sounds. I would have expected you to say something like virile or potent.”

  “Perhaps I choose to reserve those accolades for myself,” he said with a significant pause. “By the by, Diana, when did you intend to tell me?”

  “Tell you what?” she asked.

  “Come now. You can’t possibly think that I haven’t noticed. Did you suppose I would be angry?”

  “Angry about what? I honestly don’t know what you’re talking about, Ludovic.”

  “My dear, no woman is able to accommodate a man with such frequency as you have done these past several months. Add to that your unusual lethargy, which I won’t flatter myself is entirely due to sexual exertion, I feel I must inquire, when was your last flux?”

  “M-my flux?” She regarded him blankly.

  “Yes, dearest. It is a normal cycle of nature that besets postpubescent females and plagues them at regular intervals for decades. I haven’t observed you suffering this particular affliction for some time.”

  “Dear God! But you are right,” she cried. “The last time I had my courses was when we were in Florence.”

  “Well over three months hence, my dear. Are you saying you weren’t trying to hide it from me? That you truly didn’t consider the possibility you could be—”

  “It can’t be. I’m barren!” Diana’s hand shook. Coffee sloshed.

  “Given the indications, you must forgive me for questioning the veracity of that statement. I regret that I became careless, but I believed it wasn’t possible for this to happen.”

  “I’m sorry to have disappointed you!”

  “That’s not what I meant!”

  She rose abruptly with her blood roaring in her ears and her entire being flooding with panic. Cup and saucer smashed on the marble floor.

  “Please, Diana.” He reached out to her. “We must speak of this.”

  “Do you think we can just go along as if nothing has changed? This changes everything! It’s not only about you and me. It can never be the same between us now.” She pulled away with a stifled sob.

  For fourteen glorious months, Diana had laughed, loved, and lived to the fullest, only for all to crumble before her eyes. “I want to go home! Please, Ludovic,” she cried, “take me home to England at once.”

  ***

  Diana had refused to seek the attention of an Italian doctor, choosing instead to savor a few more weeks of denial, though it was more like wallowing in misery, for time itself confirmed both her inexpressible joy at the tiny life growing inside her and her desolation that the grande passion of her life would perforce come to an end.

  Ludovic had told her from the very beginning he would not wed, and she had accepted what he was willing to offer. She had not suffered in the exchange. Besides being a magnificent lover, DeVere was kind and generous, intelligent, witty, worldly, and polished, but had never treated her with condescension. And while she had always known their time would eventually come to an end, she had been far too happy in the present to dwell upon the future, but now that future reared its ugly head.

  In the weeks at sea, the divide only widened. Every time Ludovic had tried to breach the subject about the future, about security, she had refused to discuss what now lay inevitably between them. If she continued as his mistress, she
would soon face shame and ostracism as the mother of DeVere’s illegitimate child, and worse, the product of their passion would be forever stigmatized as a bastard. That is what hurt the most and what Diana would never allow.

  Upon arriving back in England, she made an immediate departure for Yorkshire.

  “Please, Diana,” Ludovic pleaded as she entered the coach, “it doesn’t have to be like this. Just allow me some time to work out a solution.” He looked almost as desolate as she felt.

  She guided his hand to her rapidly expanding belly. “Time is a commodity in short supply, my lord.”

  “I told you I will care for you. You will share my residence if that is your choice. I would never allow you or this child to suffer any want.”

  “You seem to overlook the simple want of a name,” she retorted bitterly.

  “Damn it all, we are getting nowhere!” he cried, his features contorted with anguish. “I have to make you understand. This is not about love. It’s about honor. For I do love you, don’t you know that? More than I ever thought possible. But I am bound by my honor to my brother. I declared him my heir, he and his offspring. How can I rescind that? Don’t you see how it is? If I produce a legitimate heir, the law will supersede my will. I can’t do that to my only brother. Damn it all! A man should never have to choose between love and honor. This was not my choice!”

  “I need time to think, Ludovic. Time alone. Please don’t follow me.”

  “As you wish,” he replied stiffly.

  The door closed, and Diana swiftly faced away lest he see her come undone, for that’s precisely how she felt, as if the very fiber of her being was slowly unraveling.

  Chapter Eighteen

  “Bloody, bloody hell!” Ludovic bellowed. “What the devil am I to do now, Ned? It’s been weeks! She won’t see me and won’t even accept a letter. I cannot lose her like this! She’s carrying my child, for Christ’s sake.”

  “Have you consulted a solicitor in the matter of your title?” Ned asked.

  “Yes! And there’s naught to be done. I would willingly give up everything for her, but if I were to renounce my title, it would simply go into abeyance until my death. Moreover, Hew and I would both lose all income from the properties, which does no one any good.” He paced the room with long strides and spun around with a wild look.

  “Do you know for a crazed moment I even considered declaring myself incompetent in order to confer the title directly to Hew? It is, after all, how I gained the bloody thing in my predecessor’s lifetime. Two physician’s statements and a private petition to parliament and voila, I became the sixth Viscount DeVere. I daresay there are any number of people who doubt my sanity of late.” He gave a self-deprecating laugh. “In truth, I’m surely bound for Bedlam anyway if I don’t get her back.” He poured and downed a brandy in one draught. “Did you ever think you would see it, Ned? Ludovic, ‘The Devil’ DeVere brought to his knees by a woman?”

  “This is nonsensical, Vic. You must tell Hew. He would never want this, certainly not under these circumstances.”

  “Tell Hew what?” asked the voice of Captain Hewett DeVere.

  “Hew!” DeVere rose unsteadily to his feet. “When did you come to town?”

  “I just arrived. I left the very moment Vesta told me about you and Diana. What is all this nonsense about?” Hew gave his brother a thunderous look. “And why the devil have you not married her already?”

  “I’ve asked him the same thing, Hew,” said Ned. “It seems your brother has a rather distorted notion of honor.”

  “I would be inclined to agree if he would suffer a gently bred woman to bear his child out of wedlock. Pray pour me a drink as well, big brother. I must surely hear this tale from your own lips.”

  DeVere gave a frustrated groan. “What’s the point? You already know the crux of it. Diana is carrying my child, and I cannot wed her without breaking my vow to you.”

  Hew appeared stunned. “What the devil have I got to do with it?”

  “I declared you my sole heir. That the title and all it entails is to be yours. It’s the very reason you wed, after all.”

  “Rein back again, Vic!” Hew raised both hands in vehement protest. “Let me disabuse you of that notion right now! You did not coerce me to wed. When I returned from America, I wanted nothing more than to settle down with a wife at some small, country estate. You simply expedited my plan by providing a generous settlement. Now there is no man more content, for I have more than I ever dreamed of. And as far as the wretched title is concerned, I never recall at any time in my life expressing the least desire for it.”

  “Yet you didn’t decline it,” DeVere said.

  “No. What choice did I have when you were so bloody opposed to ensuring the continuity of it? I simply acquiesced to your wishes. If matters have now changed, there is no man more delighted than me; so please, let me be the first to say get off your bloody arse and wed the woman!”

  ***

  My dearest Lord DeVere,

  It seems now as if our time together was little more than a foolish, romantic idyll, a temporary reprieve from reality, which has now come to its inevitable conclusion. And while I cannot condemn your actions as a man of honor, I can neither accept raising our child under the stigma of bastardy.

  For this reason, I am leaving London immediately to seek a new residence, somewhere quiet where I intend to raise our child alone and in respectable obscurity. To this end, I ask that you adhere to your promise that we shall never be in want and only request that a living allowance be provided to cover our basic needs. I would also request that a trust be established to ensure the proper education of your son or daughter.

  Please do not attempt to contact me as I am resolute in my decision that this course of action is truly in the best interest of our child. This will be my only correspondence with you as all communication henceforth must perforce occur through our respective solicitors...

  Diana paused to wipe the tears that blurred her eyes, spilled onto the page, and smeared the wet ink. She rose from her escritoire, crumpled the foolscap with a cry of frustration, and cursed herself again for being ten kinds of fool. Of course, it was the logical action to take, to divorce her mind and distance her body from him. Yet, every night she awoke fevered with yearning for his lips on hers, for the musky scent of his body, for the dull and steady thump of his heartbeat under her cheek.

  She paced the room, wondering what it might have been like had he cared enough for her to sacrifice his damnable honor but then realized the selfishness of her thoughts. She knew he was miserable too, yet he was adamant in regard to his word once given. DeVere surely had his own peculiar code, but it spoke much of any man to sacrifice his own desires to keep his bond. Thoughts like these continued to wreak havoc on her peace, for as much as she wanted to despise him, Diana could not.

  Instead, she wallowed in what ifs and self-pity, the prospect of motherhood being the only light that shined into her present darkness. Diana knew it would take time for her torn heart to mend, but surely the birth of this life inside her would palliate the pain. If only he would stay away, she could learn to be content, but how could she ever deny the man if he desired to acknowledge his own child? These questions only served to reopen the wound.

  A light knock on her chamber door served as a welcome interruption. Phoebe entered with a soft and tentative step, her infant son in her arms, concern etching her face. “He’s here again to see you, Diana.”

  “You must tell him again that I won’t receive him.”

  “I have tried, but he won’t be denied this time. He only asks for a moment.” Phoebe’s soft eyes pleaded along with her voice.

  Diana felt the burn behind her own but refused to shed anymore tears. “I can’t, don’t you see?”

  “But surely the father of your babe deserves this one last concession,” Phoebe gently insisted and gazed down at her own son, unaware that the gesture hit Diana as a near-lethal blow.

  “But don’t you
understand? I haven’t the strength to resist him,” Diana whispered, knowing that one look, one touch, from him would be enough to crumble her and her shaky resolve into a thousand wretched pieces.

  “Then don’t,” answered a soft baritone.

  Diana gazed up in horror to find him standing in the doorway. His eyes were red rimmed, his face gaunt, his hair and clothing disheveled. Phoebe murmured a vague apology and made her hasty exit.

  “Don’t come any closer,” Diana warned. “Whatever it is, please say it from there and then leave.”

  “Diana.” DeVere raised his hands in a plaintive gesture. “Please forgive me.”

  “For what?” she answered in an unsteady voice. “For keeping your word to your brother?”

  “For being a well-meaning but misguided ass!”

  He advanced three paces toward her, and she took as many in retreat and found her back to the bed. Her breathing had accelerated the moment she laid eyes on him, and her heart hammered an erratic beat against her breastbone. She closed her eyes on a brief payer. Dear God, please don’t let him touch me.

  “Please, Diana. I’ve never known such desolation, and I cannot believe this is what you want either.”

  She felt his presence only an arms-breadth away and dared not open her eyes. “What I want?” she murmured. “When did that begin to matter to you?”

  “Bloody hell!” he cried. “How can you say that? Making you happy has been all that has signified this past eighteen months! For the first time in my life, fulfilling my own desires came secondary to another, and perversely, I have never been more content.”

  “And yet you are willing to sacrifice your child’s future? How can I ever reconcile that?”

  She opened her eyes only to become lost in his. He cupped her cheek. She tried to turn away, but he held her fast. “No, my love. You will hear me out at last.” His brandy-scented breath heated her face and filled her with a longing she fought to tamp down.