A Devil Named DeVere (The Devil DeVere) (11 page)

"The mare? What the devil is
she
doing on the field?" Reggie demanded, his bugged-eyed gaze tracking the horses and jockeys.

"I have entered her," Diana answered him with a defiant thrust of her chin.

"The hell you say!"

"Don't worry, you need not fear for your interests," said Ned, misinterpreting Reggie's rage. "Hew is one of the best riders out there."

"But if they each win their trial, Hew and DeVere would challenge one another," Diana remarked.

"It would, indeed, make for an interesting contest." Edward
laughed. "Hew desires nothing more than to defeat his brother who has taunted him with a promise to buy his coveted colors in the Seventeenth Dragoons if Hew can rout him. Lord Reggie, did you not also have a horse in the running?" Ned asked. "It looks like they are about to commence."

Reggie rose to his feet with a strangled sound. "Johnson and Centurion should have been out there already! Tell them to hold the races, Edward. I must see what's amiss!" Reggie departed the stands at a panicked dash.

***

"There now, ye beastie," the gravelly voice crooned to the big bay stallion nervously pacing inside his box.

"You there! Who the devil are you?" Lord Reginald demanded of the stranger. "And what are you doing with my horse? Centurion should be out on the field already. Where's my man, Johnson?"

"Johnson?" The large man in black turned to face him, revealing a crooked nose and a scarred face. "Is he your chap then, guvn'r?"

"He's my
jockey,
not that it's any business of yours," Reggie snapped.

"Is that so?" The man released the horse and began picking
his teeth with a silver toothpick. "Well it seems yer man Johnson has come by a little accident." He nodded to the corner of the box where the groom lay facedown in the straw. "These stallions be unruly, dangerous beasts, ye ken. 'Tis a lucky thing I come along when I did or 'e might well ha'e been trampled to death."

Reggie entered the horse's stall with a tortured cry. "Dear God! Jemmie! My poor lad!" Rolling the jockey onto his back, he discovered Johnson's face pulverized beyond recognition. Raising Johnson's head onto his lap, he screeched, "Don't just stand there like an imbecile! Get a physician!"

"Why I'll be 'appy to oblige you, guv—just as soon as I take care of me own unfinished business."

Reggie blanched, his body trembled. "You did this! Who are you? Who sent you?"

"Who am I?" The man gave him a black-toothed smile. "Let's just say I'm a special messenger."

Comprehension and stark terror simultaneously washed over Reggie. "How much did he pay you?" he asked. "I'll double it!"

"Will you now?" The stranger scratched his grizzled chin. "Show me your gold, and mayhap we can strike a bargain."

"I haven't any on my person," Reggie said in a voiced
strangled by panic as the man advanced upon him. "But I can provide surety."

"Can ye, indeed?"

"The horse! Take the horse. He's a champion, worth at least five hundred guineas."

The stranger stepped back to appraise the animal. "Aye, sure enough. But trouble is
govn'r, a horse like this 'un be none too easy to fence. Besides, our mutual acquaintance be a gent with a far reach." He doffed his hat and shook his greasy head with a mocking bow. "I fear I must decline yer generous offer."

"Then what do you want from me?"

"Ah, 'tis nothing personal-like, yer lardship. The question is what our friend wants. Yer a ruined man and far worse, a cheat. Our friend don't like to be crossed and can't abide a cheat. Now was you a gentl'man proper and like to conduct yerself as such, 'e might hae trusted ye to take the gentl'manly solution on yer own, but being that yer a craven piece of shite, I've been asked to lend me assistance." A pistol appeared from beneath the black coat. The stranger consulted his time piece. "They be starting the race any moment now. So, yer lardship, I ask what is your pleasure? Through the mouf or the ears?"

Lord Reggie answered with an incomprehensible whimper.
As the muzzle entered his mouth, he suffered the final humiliation of the warm wet trickle of urine down the thighs of his breeches.

To those out on the down, the report of fire was a mere echo to the starter's pistol that commenced the first race.

"I'm sorry I
couldn't do anything with the officials," said Edward with an apologetic look to Diana. "I'm afraid Reggie's entry fee is also now forfeit."

Diana worried her lower lip."I cannot imagine what must have happened, unless perhaps, the horse went lame. But to be honest, it makes not the slightest difference to me, as his plans assuredly never included paying off his debts. I'm just glad to see Hew and Cartimandua out there with the mares."

"This should be an interesting contest, indeed, given DeVere won the first race," said Edward.

"If we do see DeVere and Hew matched against one another, who would you put your money on?" Diana asked.

"We'll that's an interesting question." Edward laughed. "We'll just have to wait and see now, won't we?"

Annalee squeezed Diana's hand. "Let us just hope Hew and the mare have a great run."

The contenders jigged and pranced to the starting post, six sleek and snorting specimens of muscle and sinew. At the starting signal, the pack bolted, their thunderous ironshod hooves quaking the ground and hurling projectiles of turf heavenward in a unified stampede that in mere seconds was lost on the horizon. Edward pulled out his timepiece. "By my reckoning, the herd should come back into view in about two minutes."

To Diana, it seemed an eternity.

The same earth-shaking rumble preceded the herd. Diana shaded her eyes as she strained to determine the color of the lead horse and the jockey's silks. There were two riders neck-and-neck, lengths ahead of the rest as they approached the finish. Diana perched at the edge of her seat, her heart galloping in rhythm with the hammering hoof beats to see an emerald green rider on a lanky, dappled gray and a red-and-gold jockey on a horse the color of copper. It was Hew! With just a few furlongs to go, Diana's fists were clenched, her nails gouging the flesh of her palms. She held her breath until she was lightheaded, and still, they battled for the finish. With only yards to go, she could bear it no longer; she closed her eyes on a prayer.

"She did it!" Annalee shrieked. "Diana, your horse has won her race!"

***

The two DeVeres dismounted at the stables, handing off
their respective horses for hot- walking whilst bantering and chiding each other in true brotherly fashion. With a number of lesser matches taking place before the event culmination, Ludovic had planned a grand
al fresco
nuncheon at Woodcote Park for the owners and other eminent guests, but now all he could think of was Diana and how soon he might get her back in his bed.

She was a damned handsome woman and an enthusiastic lover, but there was much more than that. Something about her appealed to him at a distinctly visceral level he had never experienced. Perhaps it was the raw honesty of her emotions, the vulnerability that she tried so hard to conceal. Whatever it was incited a peculiar and contradictory impulse to both exploit and protect her.

He couldn't remember the last time he'd been so bloody distracted by a woman. He'd barely been able to concentrate on his earlier ride. He would be in no condition to ride against Hew unless he could somehow manage to get her alone for a surreptitious fuck in the interim between races. Surely that would take the edge off. He returned to the house eager to engineer just that, but was waylaid by well-wishers.

"That was quite a ride, Vic!" Ned clapped him on the back.
"Can't decide where to lay my money now between you and Hew."

"There's really no question, Ned. Although the mare's a superior specimen of her gender, she's no match for the stallion."

"Don't let Diana hear you say so! She's convinced the prize money is already in her pocket."

"Is she now?" DeVere smiled at the unintentional segue to his subject of most interest. "And just where is the proud owner? I should like to offer my congratulations."

"She and Annalee went up to refresh before nuncheon."

"I think I'll do the same." He turned to his brother. "Hew, pray fill in for me. I'll return shortly."

"Right-oh, brother mine. You might, indeed, need to rest that decrepit body before we meet on the field."

"Decrepit, my arse," DeVere replied. "I'll trounce you as usual, insolent whelp!"

"We'll see about that, Vic. I have powerful yen for those colors you promised me." Hew grinned and swaggered off.

"He would do the dragoons justice, you know," Ned remarked.

"They'd be damned lucky to have him," Ludovic agreed. "But he's my heir, and the war is going badly. If anything should happen to him..."

"You surprise me with your protective streak, but Hew needs to be his own man now."

"I know," Ludovic said. "That's why I'll eventually concede, but I don't intend to make it easy for him."

"No, I don't imagine you would!" Ned laughed.

***

"The footman brought a message for you, my lady," Polly said.

"Thank you." Diana accepted the foolscap. Noting nothing to identify the sender, she broke the plain, wax seal.

My private study –D.

Her hands trembled slightly as she refolded the note and slid it into the pocket of her petticoat.

"Is sommat amiss?" Polly asked at her mistress's frown.

"No, nothing of import," Diana replied with a blithe smile. "But I won't be changing my gown quite yet. I have a small matter to attend to first."

***

Diana closed the study door with a quiet click and turned to find DeVere looming over her, his blue eyes glittering dangerously. Without a word, he spun her back to the door, bracing one arm beside her head and reaching for the key with the other. She heard the tumblers turning in the lock, and then there was nothing but DeVere. Her world retracted to his mouth devouring hers, his hard thigh pressing against her and his hand inching up her skirts.

Diana's head was spinning, her thoughts scattering like leaves before a tempest. The combined assault of warm, hard, musky male and her own urgent desire overpowered her stymied senses. She clutched his hair and pulled away from him only long enough to gasp out. "There's something you need to know."

"I only
need
to know my cock is buried inside you," he growled back, his clever fingers freeing a breast from her stays. He closed his mouth over it, his hand sliding between her bare thighs. He groaned as his fingers entered her slick sheath, and she was lost to all brain activity beyond the unadulterated need to join with him.

Diana's frenzied hands moved to his breeches, caressing, squeezing, fumbling, and finally freeing his engorged staff. Both his hands were now under her skirts cupping her buttocks, his arms sliding beneath her thighs.

He tore his mouth away, his arms supporting her legs, guiding them about his waist. "Hands on my shoulders," he grunted and lifted her against the wooden door panel. He slid home in one solid thrust, pinning her to the portal. His tight buttocks began pumping a furious rhythm, and her consciousness reduced to the most primal instincts. She squeezed her thighs tight, meeting each driving plunge with her own grinding hips as he pounded into her, hammering her to the door in a coupling that was both feral and sublime. Her orgasm came upon her fierce, frantic, and forceful. Tears were streaming down her face when he caught her cry in his mouth. She swallowed his own shuddering groan as he withdrew and spent between her thighs before they both collapsed to the floor.

***

Ludovic was in exceedingly good humor upon rejoining his guests after the brief but torrid interlude with Diana, but his revelry was curtailed by the interruption of his head groom.

"Pardon yer lordship, but 'tis a matter most urgent." The ashen-faced jockey nervously twisted his cap.

"What the devil is it, Pratt?" DeVere demanded. "I've fifty some guests at present. Are you certain it cannot wait?"

"I fear not," Pratt answered his master with a grim face. "Mayhap it be best you come to the stables, milord. 'Tis sommat you must see for yourself."

DeVere made an irritated sound. "All right, then. Hew, pray see to the guests. I'll return as soon as I'm able."

Pratt led his master down to the stable block housing his guests' horses.

"Now what has my unflappable Pratt in such a lather?" DeVere demanded.

"Here, my lord," Pratt said, stopping in front of the oversized box which had earlier housed Lord Reggie's stallion.

DeVere frowned. "Where is the horse? And why did he not run this morning?"

"The poor beast was in a great agitation when we found him, my lord. Horses have an innate fear of death."

"Death?" DeVere repeated. "What the hell do you yammer on about?"

With trembling hands, Pratt slid the stall door open on its track. "'Tis a most gruesome sight, but we durst not move the body wi'out your express leave."

"Sweet Jesus!" DeVere cried out at the gory spectacle, his stomach lurching at the splattered blood and brain matter that clung to the walls. Adjusting to the initial shock, he stepped inside, taking care not to disturb the remains of Baron Reginald Palmerston-Wriothesley. "There's a pistol still in his hand."

"Aye, my lord. One would think he'd have dropped it."

DeVere was thinking the same thing. Something was horribly amiss. He stepped out with an impatient wave of his hand. "For God's sake, man, close it! What more do you know of this?" he demanded of Pratt as soon as the door slid shut.

"Almost nothing, my lord. His lordship's horses was cared for by his own groom, Johnson."

"And what of Johnson?"

"He be in fair sad condition hisself. We found him beside the baron. Looks like he was beaten senseless."

"Yet he lives?"

Pratt shrugged. "For now."

"Where is he?"

"Bedded down at me own cottage. Dr. Stone's been sent for, but little good t'will likely do."

"Has anyone yet notified the magistrate?"

"Not yet, my lord."

"Sir John Gooding is the Justice of the Peace, is he not? Pray locate him for me, Pratt. And send some men out to make discreet inquiries. I wish to know who was about during the races."

"Aye, surely, my lord." Pratt tugged his forelock.

"And Pratt, you know that the Baroness is amongst my company. It is my particular wish to shield her ladyship from any word of this. She had best not hear anything except from my own lips. Do you understand?"

"Aye. But what of the afternoon race, my lord?"

"Regardless of my personal dislike for the man, one cannot ignore that a death has occurred under my own roof. There will be no further racing this afternoon."

***

Diana waited with fretful anticipation for DeVere after learning of his departure and hearing Hew's vague explanation. "There was some commotion in the stables that demanded his attention, but I'm sure my brother will return shortly."

"But what of Reggie?" Diana asked. "He has not come back either." Wondering if her husband was the real cause of DeVere's unexpected departure, her unease was rapidly increasing.

"I have seen nothing of Lord Reggie since this morning," Hew said. "If you will please pardon me now, my lady, it seems I must dance attendance on our new arrivals."

"Of course, my apologies for keeping you." She gave him a nod.

Diana then took herself out to the back terrace where she would have a view of anyone approaching from across the park separating the house from the stables. She wondered if Reggie had confronted DeVere and how he might perceive the situation. Would he believe that she had set out deliberately to seduce him to give Reggie grounds to sue? After all, it was she who had come to him in the dead of night. Dear God, she was out of her depth!

After a half hour of restless pacing, she'd had enough. With her skirts in hand, she sallied forth across the park with a distinct sense of foreboding.

They came together near the yew maze. Although she wanted nothing more than to throw herself into his arms, she halted in her tracks at the grim lines that hardened DeVere's features the moment he saw her. They faced each other for an interminable moment, each silently struggling to read the other. Her heart sunk. "You've seen Reggie," she said, certain now that he suspected her of conspiring with her husband.

DeVere's cobalt gaze bore into her. "I've seen him all right."

"I told you earlier there was something you needed to know, but you never gave me a chance to speak. Please believe me. It's not what you think." She noted with dismay the sudden tension that gripped his body and the distance he maintained between them.

"Not what I think?" He sounded like he would choke on the words. "And what precisely am I to think, Diana?"

"That Reggie is a desperate and unprincipled man who would use anything at his disposal to achieve his ends," she answered.

"Yes," he said with an accusing look that made her throat go dry. "Desperation does, indeed, bring out the very worst in all of us."

"Please, Ludovic." She grasped his sleeve, praying he would believe her. "I have nothing to do with this. I came to you for reasons of my own."