Perfect Bride (17 page)

“I don’t like him,” she said shortly.

“Devon, you don’t even know him.”

He paused. His regard sharpened, his amusement fled, his mouth thinned. He was suddenly steaming. Temberly wasn’t known for keeping his hands to himself when it came to a fetching woman, but Temberly’s brother was a good friend, thus he had felt obliged to include the viscount.

But now he wondered if Devon had encountered Temberly the night of his dinner party. Had some
thing happened he didn’t know about? Something she hadn’t told him? Was that what was responsible for her sleepless nights? By God, if Temberly had so much as looked at her, he would strangle him!

He shifted so he faced her more fully. He’d know if
she was hiding anything. “What,” he asked in steely
tones, “has Temberly done to earn such disfavor?”

“He has a wife
and
a mistress.”

The bunching in his shoulders eased. “How do you know about that? No”—he held up a hand—“let me guess. Justin again.” If Sebastian was just a little annoyed, he couldn’t help it. Justin not only set tongues to wagging; he was quite adept at wagging his own.

“And you?” she asked calmly. “What about you, Sebastian? Will you keep a mistress when you’re wed?”

She referred to his quest for a bride. There was no need to ask how she knew, not that it was a secret, of course. But he’d never spoken of it with her—what need was there? But lately it had been a subject of much speculation in every scandal sheet in the city— and he’d seen her reading the gossips in the paper of late. It had given him a moment’s pause when he re
alized it was the gossips she devoured with such fer
vor, but he’d thought it would be good for her reading skills.

She’d chided him about honesty. He could be no less than honest. “I don’t know.”

“You don’t know,” she repeated.

“No. Certainly I can’t exclude the possibility. And the fact is, most gentlemen do.”

“I see,” she said in honeyed tones. “Tell me. Do you expect your wife to be faithful?”

“She
will
be faithful,” he answered grimly, “or she damn well won’t be my wife.”

“So you will demand her loyalty?”

“Fidelity and loyalty go hand in hand,” came his prompt affirmation.

“Correct me then if I misunderstand,” she said with an acid bite, “but you expect your wife’s un
questioning honor and devotion and faithfulness, while you refuse to give your own?”

“I wouldn’t quite put it that way. She will do her duty as a wife and I will do mine as a husband.”

“And what if she takes a lover?”

His eyes glinted. “She will not! A man needs to know his heirs are his!”

“Yet you may choose to have a mistress. It’s the same, is it not?”

“It most certainly is not!”

She regarded him, the line of her mouth com
pressed, her golden eyes stormy.

He sighed. “Devon, the ways of the
ton
are differ
ent. You don’t understand—”

“Oh, I understand,” she said coldly. “I understand that it’s wrong for a man to have a mistress as well as a wife. A husband should be faithful to his wife, as she should be faithful to him. A man should cherish his wife, as she should cherish him! And for a man supposedly concerned about propriety, I would think you would know that!”

Well, he thought, she was certainly adamant about right and wrong. He snuffed out a laugh before she caught it. Still, he was impressed. Her sermon con
veyed an unswerving loyalty. It resounded with faith and commitment between loved ones.

The very values he himself held so dear.

He tried to touch her sleeve; she wrenched her arm away.

“Devon,” he said softly, “you might be interested in knowing I no longer have a mistress.” Why he was confiding such a thing, he wasn’t quite certain.

Yet something inside, something he didn’t fully

comprehend, compelled it.

“Why should I be interested?” she flared.

Why indeed, he decided, settling back on the cushions. The carriage hit a bump in the road. It swervedabit,andhereachedouttosteadyher. This time she didn’t draw away. The very next in
stant that upturned little nose was pointed his way again.

“What happened to her?” she inquired stiffly. “The lovely Lilly, isn’t it? Did the two of you have a falling out?”

How the devil did she know about Lilly? Ah. Justin again, no doubt, he realized in annoyance.

But he’d started this. Now he wasn’t quite sure how to finish it. He could hardly admit he’d gone to Lilly one evening a few nights after Devon’s arrival. He’d taken one look at her and felt...nothing. Her ardent kiss of greeting left him cold. There was no answering spark, no sizzle of desire.

He’d known then and there that it was over, and so he’d said. Lilly’s outrage was natural, he sup
posed. She’d made quite a scene, until he’d offered a more than generous settlement. Then she had practi
cally purred...

Those particular details, however, were not some
thing he intended to reveal to Devon.

“It was time we parted.”

“And you let her go, just like that?”

Her tone was rather accusing. Such logic defeated him. He thought she’d be pleased!

“The lovely Lilly, as you call her, will find someone else. Word is she already has.”

“But what if she doesn’t?”

“She will. That’s the way it is with”—there was an awkward pause—“with women like her,” he finished.

“I will assume from that declaration that you’ve had many mistresses then.”

Sebastian shifted uncomfortably. It was a state
ment, not a question. Yet he was aware from her ex
pression that an answer was expected. But how the hell was he supposed to answer
that
? Their conversa
tion had veered off in a direction he hadn’t foreseen. Which was precisely why he
should
have expected it, for when was he going to learn to expect the unex
pected from Devon?

He found himself in a rare struggle for words. “I am one-and-thirty,” he said carefully, “so yes, I’ve had several mistresses.”

“Perhaps you have many children then.” Her fea
tures were etched with disapproval.

“I don’t. I made certain of it.” His answer re
sounded with absolute finality.

“How?” she demanded.

“You know. There are ways.” He gestured vaguely. “Men have ways. Women have ways . . .” His voice trailed off. The oddest notion came over him as he stared across at her.

They were almost home. The carriage was slowing as they approached the carriage house.

“Devon,” he said cautiously, “surely you’re aware of the ways men and women can avoid hav
ing children?”

“I am not!” She appeared to be gritting her teeth. “I have no need of such knowledge!”

It took a moment to digest the full import of that vehement assertion. The grasp of his mind faltered. Was she suggesting that . . .

A searing, heartfelt curse blackened the air. “Are you telling me you’re a virgin?”

The door opened. A crimson liveried footman bowed, then offered a hand in assistance.

“My lord,” she stated primly, “your language is abominable.”

“My language will get much worse if you don’t answer me!”

She gathered up her skirts and glanced back over her shoulder, her round little chin tipped high. “I do believe,” she stated pleasantly, “you may draw your own conclusion.”

evon was a virgin. Sweet Christ, a virgin. Hours later Sebastian’s mind still churned, along with his insides. Every pore in his being warned it was true. Yet how could that be, living as she had in that wretched hovel in St. Giles? Working at that hellhole, the Crow’s Nest? Walking the dangerous streets at night as she had, a woman alone and defenseless, pitted against the very scum of the earth?

But then again, there were the circumstances that had brought her to his house. He found himself re
vising his conclusion slightly—perhaps she wasn’t totally defenseless. She had armed herself with a dagger, and she possessed the strength and fortitude to use it. And she’d employed the very best weapon of all—her wits. The fact that she’d garbed herself as a woman heavy with child was really quite resource
ful. Ingenious, even. Still...

Just when he thought he knew her...he didn’t.

She wasn’t the harlot he’d first thought. After her tirade the day he’d caught her rifling through his be
longings, he’d told himself he couldn’t blame her for doing what was necessary to survive. Though he’d given her necklace back, occasionally he found himself speculating about its origins; she wore it al
ways. Once clean, it had looked to be a costly piece. Was it true it was a gift to her mother from a well-to-do fellow?

A virgin. Lord God, a virgin!

A corner of Sebastian’s mouth turned up deri
sively. There was, he decided with black humor, one sure way to find out.

Not likely, he told himself with a self-deprecating laugh. There was little chance he’d be well-received. She was still sizzling when she’d sailed to her room.

It was not in Sebastian’s nature to be reckless. It was
not
.

It didn’t stop him from wanting to mount the stairs and mount
her
. It didn’t stop him from want
ing to strip away every last stitch of clothing until she was naked and writhing in his arms. It didn’t stop his scalding need to lick and taste and suckle those glorious, glorious breasts until he had his fill. It didn’t stop him from yearning to hear her scream and moan with pleasure as he plunged his rod inside her, again and again.

That was the uncivilized part of him.

The civilized part of him wasn’t so very different, he admitted. Knowing she was asleep at the top of the stairs tempted him, tempted him mightily.

But not beyond reason. Not beyond his limits, he told himself.

He’d not succumbed thus far, and he
would
not.

He was not a man to indulge his every whim, to obey every base urge that arose, for he was not a man of fancy. Said urges and whims must be considered and weighed. The consequences, whatever those conse
quences might be, must be calculated and measured before the choice was made to discard or execute.

Besides, she was an innocent—sweet God above, he couldn’t lie to himself!—and that only made him burn for her all the more. But she was living under his roof, under his care, his protection. No matter how the flames of desire seared his senses and heated his blood, he would not dishonor her by vent
ing his passion.

Particularly after their exchange in the carriage this evening.

A disconcerting thought struck him then. Had her mother been some man’s mistress? Was Devon the result? Was that why she was so staunchly opposed to men with mistresses?

A pang cut through him. God, but this house would be lonely without her. For she filled it with spirit and life and laughter.

As she was filling him.

An odd tightness wedged in his chest, until he could scarcely breathe. He felt almost raw inside. “Devon,” he whispered with a touch of raggedness, “ah, Devon, what am I going to do with you?”

Dear God, what would he do
without
her?

His mood verged on brooding. A brandy was what he needed. A good, strong brandy. With purposeful steps, he strode toward the library and his chair. Christ, he needed to think.

But his chair was already occupied.
*

Devon was dreaming. Of a day filled with quiet serenity. Of lush summer gardens abrim with green
ery, the silvery tinkle of water through a fountain and sunlight streaming through the gauzy white clouds. But, alas, a storm approached. The air was suddenly crackling. Lightning flashed and thunder raged. In her dream, she shifted, wanting to return to that splendid world of sunshine.

“Devon.
Devon
.”

She jumped. The thunder was upon her now. In fact, it boomed directly at her ear.

Her eyes drifted open. Sebastian towered over her, his features as blackly fierce as the storm in her dream.

“Go away,” she muttered.

He did not.

“Devon, Beast...
Dumpling
...has taken over my chair.”

“For pity’s sake,” she grumbled sleepily, “you’re bigger than she is. Move her.” She rolled to her side and prepared to go back to sleep.

“Considering her circumstances, I doubt that’s wise.”

Full consciousness kicked in. Devon bounded out of bed toward the door. “It’s time,” she said urgently.

Sebastian was at her heels as she flew down the stairs. “You knew,” he bit out furiously. “You knew, didn’t you?”

“What!” she retorted. “You mean you didn’t?”

He took her elbow, hurrying her along. To reply would have been to incriminate himself further. He was still grumbling when he threw open the library doors. “My God,” he muttered under his breath, “that creature is whelping in my chair!”

Devon was just close enough that she could hear. She preceded him inside. “I really thought you would have figured it out by now.” She couldn’t re
sist teasing him just a little more. “I mean, really, Se
bastian. You must have dogs at your estates. Horses—”

“So that’s why she has the appetite of one!”

Devon was hardly well versed in the subject of whelping, but in this, at least, she appeared to have a more extensive knowledge than he.

“I expect so.” Devon eased down before Sebastian’s chair, taking in Dumpling’s situation. Dumpling stopped pawing and circling and lay down, pleading mutely with her mistress. Devon frowned, running a soothing hand along Dumpling’s back.

They didn’t have long to wait. Not more than a few minutes passed before Dumpling began to whine and yip and cry. Sebastian ceased his pacing before the fireplace.

“Devon,” he ground out frantically, “we must do something.”

Devon eyed him. He was down to his shirtsleeves, white as his cravat, now but a rumpled pile of silk ground beneath his heels. The ties of his shirt hung open, halfway down his chest. Devon’s stomach dropped at the sight of the hair-matted expanse of his chest. Her palms grew damp. His forearms were like that too, large and muscled and covered with silky black hair. She stared in riveted fascination, wonder
ing if the rest of his body was covered likewise.

Hastily she averted her eyes. What the deuce had he asked? Ah, yes.

“She’s giving birth, Sebastian. She has to do all the work.”

And she did. She yelped and heaved and panted and strained until Sebastian could stand it no longer. He sank to one knee beside Devon. He swallowed hard, then stretched out a hand toward Dumpling.

“That’s the way,” he said tentatively. “You can do it, girl. I know you can.”

Something amazing happened then. A wet, tiny lit
tle body slithered into view. Sebastian was still star
ing when something even more amazing happened.

Dumpling licked his hand.

Three more bodies eventually joined the first. When it appeared no more were forthcoming, Sebas
tian glanced at her hopefully. “Is she finished, do you think?”

Devon ventured a cautious opinion. “I believe so.”

Sebastian released a great, wracking breath. With the back of his hand he wiped the sweat from his brow.

“That was exhausting.”

Probably more so for Sebastian, she decided with a grin, than it had been for Dumpling.

She leaned forward. Prudently gauging the new mother’s reaction, she picked up the newborns, peering beneath each. Her eyes widened. “Oh, my,” she exclaimed. “Sebastian, they’re all boys!”

Returned to Dumpling’s side, they were making tiny, mewling sounds, instinctively seeking the warmth of their mother. With her nose, Dumpling nudged them close to her belly.

“We should make sure the library stays warm to
night,” she said.

“I’ll tend the fire myself,” he promised.

“And names. They should have names, don’t you think?”

“Excellent idea,” he approved. “What shall they be?”

“I don’t know. Perhaps,” she said tentatively, “we should leave it up to you.”

“Me! Why?”

“I got to name Dumpling, and I know you’ve never taken a particular liking to the name
I
chose.” The comment was accompanied by a telling, side
long glance. “So I think it’s only right that you should name her babies, especially since they’re boys.”

Sebastian was looking very pleased. He traced a smooth, hairless tummy. “This one’s the biggest,” he stated with authority. “And he was born first. There
fore, he shall be the General. This one”—he circled a tiny ear—“the Colonel, I think. Followed by the Ma
jor and the Captain, of course.”

Devon clapped her hands delightedly. “That’s quite clever!”

“Thank you,” he returned. “It was my pleasure.” He turned his head, his gaze roving warmly over her features. “You look very happy,” he told her softly.

“I am,” she said simply.

They sat shoulder to shoulder, her nightgown frilled about her bare feet. It was a moment steeped in contentment and satisfaction.

Neither one heard Justin push the door open. “Well, well,” he drawled, “if it isn’t Mummy and Daddy admiring the brood. How many are there?”

“Four. And all males,” Sebastian informed him proudly.

Justin advanced. “I confess, I began to think the blessed event would never occur.”

Devon stole a glance at Sebastian, whose expres
sion had gone pained. At the same instant Sebastian leveled a warning glance at Devon. Her shoulders quivered with mirth as she struggled not to laugh.

Justin ambled close to Dumpling. He stretched out an idle hand toward the tiniest puppy.

Dumpling lunged.

Justin leaped back. “She nipped me! By God, I should have known not to trust a female!”

Sebastian laughed outright. “Well, what do you know? You, my good man, have just been dis
dained,” he said mildly. “A first, is it not? Perhaps it’s a sign of things to come.” He scratched the tummy of the same pup. Dumpling rubbed her head against his hand.

Justin was still scowling. “I’ll have you know I’ve not lost one iota of my charm.”

“Oh, come now,” Sebastian said, laughing again. “Bite your tongue, lest those words come back to haunt you.”

“You’d enjoy that, wouldn’t you?”