A Devil Named DeVere (The Devil DeVere) (12 page)

"By God, but you're good! I was completely taken in last night when you played the reluctant seductress. You would be a credit to the stage."

"You accuse me unjustly!" she said.

"Unjust! It's a bit late now to play coy, don't you think? I thought briefly in the beginning that you might have used the race as an excuse to lure me, to reclaim the deed, not that I really gave a damn because I wanted my cock inside you so badly. But then another
better
alternative occurred to you, or did you have this planned all along? I never would have suspected you of such duplicity, such ruthlessness. Did you come to me last night purely for my protection, thinking I might actually shield you?"

His harsh words struck her as a blow, yet she pressed on, determined to make him understand. "I hoped it would not come to that, but then I imagined how I might never be free of him without your help. I don't believe he would ever agree to a divorce, Ludovic. Thus, I did consider seeking your protection—if it became necessary to do so."

His gaze hardened. "Then you take much for granted, Diana."

She looked away with dismay. "After last night, I thought perhaps you might wish..."

His gaze narrowed, his jaw twitched. "I wished many things after last night, but matters seem to have taken a rather disconcerting turn. I may be a libertine but
this?
This, madam, is far beyond even
my
level of tolerance."

Her lips quivered. "Then I'm a fool." She had felt such a connection, such intimacy with him last night, that it had never occurred to her it wasn't mutual. But now it was clear she meant nothing to him beyond an evening's entertainment.

He laughed, a harsh sound. "No, my dear. Fool is the
last
word I would use to describe you. I would rather call your solution exceedingly clever. The set up. The timing. The alibi. All of it is quite brilliant, actually."

Set up? Alibi
? Diana was baffled. "I don't understand you, Ludovic. Are you implying I had something to do with fixing the race? How can you suggest such a thing when your own brother rode my mare?"

"The race?" It was his turn to look confused. "My dear, the race is inconsequential at this juncture. I'm only concerned about how I'm supposed to deal with the dead body in my stables."

Diana felt the blood drain from her face."D-dead body? Dear God, Ludovic, what are you talking about?"

***

"Your dead husband's body!" he snarled. "What the devil other body could we be talking about?"

Diana looked stunned. "R-Reggie? Dead?"

"Yes, dead."

"But how can that be? Was there an accident? Is that why the horse didn't run?"

"An accident? I suppose one might call it that
if
one could mistakenly place a pistol in one's mouth and pull the trigger." Her horrified expression made him instantly regret the blithe remark. He feared she might collapse.

"A pistol? In the mouth?" she repeated woodenly and sank
to her knees in the grass.

With a groan of frustration abetted by sheer confusion, Ludovic squatted down beside her. "Do you mean to say you truly didn't know?"

"Know?" she whispered. "How could I possibly know such a thing?"

He clawed a hand through his hair. "Then what the devil were you saying just a moment ago?
Please believe me, Ludovic. It's not what you think.
Bloody hell! What
am
I to think when you just confessed to seeking my protection!"

"Protection as in becoming your mistress! Not as in shielding a murder! You think I killed him?" she answered incredulously. "How? How could I have done such a thing? I was with Edward and Annalee the entire time."

"Damn it, Diana!" he cried. "I thought nothing of the kind until you began talking nonsense about secrets and things I should know."

"I was trying to warn you that Reggie threatened extortion. That he found out about you and me and intended to take you to the courts of law."

"That's nothing less than I would have expected from that pusillanimous pile of—" He caught himself. "I'm sorry."

She waved the apology away, but her lips quivered, and her eyes glistened. He couldn't tell if it was with grief or rage. "How could you think me capable of such wickedness?"

Rage then
. He groaned. "What the hell was I to think?"

"But to even imagine for a moment!" she argued.

"Look, Diana," he retorted. "I've just seen a man's brains splattered on a wall. I may not be in the most lucid state of mind at the moment."

"Dear God!" she whispered. "What happened?"

"I don't precisely know. In brief, my man, Pratt, found two bodies in your stallion's box. One was your unconscious groom, the other was what remains of your husband after he took a bullet through the mouth. The offending pistol was still in his hand."

"Suicide?"

"A highly suspicious one, if you ask me, but there will, of course, be an inquest. I have sent word to the J.P. I believe he will take charge of the entire affair."

"Reggie's really dead, then."

Was it shock or relief in her expression? "No man could survive what I saw."

"And Johnson? Has he spoken to anyone yet?" she asked.

"Johnson may never speak again. It's doubtful he'll recover his senses."

"Dear heavens." She sat in a protracted silence, her fingers convulsively ripping at the grass.

He gazed down on her with a feeling of puzzlement. "Are you all right, Diana?"

"What?" she answered blankly. "Yes, thank you. I'll be fine in a moment or two. It's just such a terrible shock."

He took her hand. She looked into his face. "What now?"

"Now, I think it only appropriate to call an end to the festivities."

***

The party broke up almost immediately upon Diana and DeVere's return. The only guests remaining were either directly involved in the questioning, or were those who lingered simply out of morbid fascination. Ludovic noted the Duchess of Beauclerc among the latter group.

"What are you still doing here, Caroline?" he demanded. "I thought you would have left with March."

"But what would I possibly want with him when I have you?" she purred.

DeVere stifled a curse. "This matter has passed well beyond tedious, Caroline. Although it was never my intention to humiliate you, you appear to be doing an excellent job on your own. It's finished between us. I don't know how to make myself any clearer."

"But there you are wrong, my love. It's only over if and when
I say
it's over. And I have not finished with you. Indeed, I think I should like to be your wife, Ludovic."

"Do you now? I never before thought you dull-witted. How do you propose to become my wife when I have no wish to wed you or anyone else?"

She chuckled low and long. "But darling, you only need proper motivation."

"Motivation? There is nothing on earth that would move me to join my name with yours."

"No? How about to avoid the scaffold? Many men have been moved to far worse fates to save their skins."

He seized her silk and lace-clad arm. "What the devil are you talking about?"

She raised her chin defiantly. "I speak of the murder of the Baron Palmerston-Wriothesley, of course."

"That's a ridiculous and groundless speculation," he snarled.
"Were you a man, I would call you out on the spot."

"Groundless? Oh I think not! For who stood to gain more by the Baron's death than you? Unless it's the poor, grieving widow who is now left penniless? But what if the two of you had confederated? What a wicked, wicked notion that is!" she cackled.

"You really think I would resort to killing a man to get what I want?"

"I think you are capable of almost anything. After all, darling, I know the underhanded means by which you came into your title, putting it about that your father is dead when we both know you have him locked away."

"There were extenuating circumstances that you know nothing about!"

"Does Hewett know that his father yet lives?" she asked.

His grip on her arm convulsively tightened. "Leave Hew out of this."

"Whatever you say, my love," she answered sweetly. "My point was only that I know you to be coldblooded and ruthless when it suits your purpose. And you are the one who holds the deed to Lord Reggie's lands, the deed you would have had to sacrifice had he won the race. Moreover, you and the baroness
are guilty of adultery. Don't deny it, Ludovic. I know that he intended to file suit against you for it."

"And you think I killed him? Your insinuation is crass and baseless."

"Is it? Lord Reggie had already obtained signed affidavits from the servants. I have copies in my possession. Sad, isn't it, how difficult it is to buy loyalty these days?"

"You think a court of law would uphold a servant's word against mine?"

"You are right, of course, but then again, a ducal coronet would bear considerably
more
weight in a witness box. I saw you with her, Ludovic. A married woman alone with a man of
your
reputation? There can be no other interpretation."

"Your word against mine, then." He emitted a mirthless laugh. "Hell hath no fury like a duchess scorned."

She gave him a venomous smile. "And I will teach you that my fury is to be feared."

"Caroline, you may drag me through the mud if you wish, but there is no possibility that I would ever be convicted of such a crime. I am a peer of the realm, and there are no witnesses who can place me at the scene."

"But even to be connected to this. Imagine the scandal, Ludovic! Your name besmirched in all the broadsheets, your person avoided and ostracized by anyone of quality."

"Yet as a man, I would come out much cleaner than you as my accuser. I have little to fear from any woman of your sullied repute."

"Is that so? Then if you would not spare yourself the scandal and dishonor, what of your penniless and newly widowed baroness?"

His eyes narrowed. "What
of
the baroness?"

"Unless you desist your relations with her, my love, I promise to destroy her."

***

"An entirely gruesome business, this." Sir John shuddered and accepted the stiff drink proffered by DeVere's footman. "I suppose we must try to piece this mess together. The sooner the dead man is laid to rest, the better, I say." He downed the glass of port in one long draft and beckoned for another. "When was the deceased last seen? And by whom?"

Edward answered. "Lord Reginald had joined Annalee, Diana, and me in the stands immediately prior to the first race but then departed to investigate when his horse did not appear."

"Then his horse was supposed to have run in the first race?"

"Yes. His groom Johnson was to ride Reggie's stallion, Centurion," Edward said.

"What do we know of the circumstances leading to the discovery of the body?"

DeVere interjected, "My man Pratt came upon the horse saddled as if to ride but greatly agitated and pacing in his box. When he investigated further, he found the deceased and the unconscious groom."

"And there was no sign of injury to the horse?" Sir John asked.

"None, according to Pratt," DeVere answered.

"That's most curious that he did not run then. Have either of you any knowledge of the stallion's temperament? Might we surmise that he attacked the unwary groom?"

"To my knowledge, Centurion is high spirited, but not a vicious animal," Edward replied.

Sir John scowled and scratched some notes. "Yet stallions can be unpredictable. Surely it is a possibility."

"I fear that cock won't fight, my lord," argued Dr. Stone. "The groom was battered and beaten almost beyond recognition, but there are no hoof prints on his body to suggest it could have been the horse."

Sir John's scowl deepened. He took another glass of port. "What do you suggest then?"

Dr. Stone remained impassive. "I suggest nothing, my lord. I merely relate the facts."

"And the same
facts
are sadly unsupportive of any motive for violence," said DeVere.

"Unless, of course, his lordship lost control upon finding his horse unable to run," Sir John said. "Yes, yes, indeed. It all comes together now. Lord Reginald had become compulsive in his gaming and was heavily in debt. He had hoped to recover his losses through the horse race, but then his horse failed to run. Is it possible that this outcome may have been the proverbial straw that broke the camel's back? A man in such desperate straits is rarely of a sound mind, you know." He added an aside, "Could it have moved him to assault the groom?"

"But Lord Reginald hardly struck one as a man with a choleric temperament," the duchess observed. "I wonder that he could have been capable of such violence."