The Devil You Know (15 page)

to any woman in reduced circumstances—to remarry or to live as a

dependent relative. Both filled her with dismay. Unbidden, a third

unthinkable alternative flashed through her mind, along with images

of last night that filled her with an empty ache.

One night in
his
bed, and she was forever changed.

Diana found herself in an inexplicable, and moreover, inextricable

tangle. The only certainty was that her mare would run in the race

today. Perhaps she would take the money and simply disappear. She

clung to that thought as desperately as to a lifeline.

Although her mind was still preoccupied, she forced herself to

return to the present, back to the races. She focused on the leading

grooms as they brought out the first group of horses and the jockeys

who were mounting up.

“Where is Lord DeVere?” she finally asked, curious that he had

yet to show when his stallion, Prometheus, was about to run.

“Ah! There he is!” Annalee pointed. “In the red and black silks.

And Hew in the red and gold.”

“DeVere is riding?” Diana asked.

“Did you not know?” Edward replied. “Says his man Pratt took ill

this morning. That’s the
third
last minute change in riders, by the by.”

“What do you mean?” Reggie demanded.

“Hew was to jockey Prometheus, but now it seems he’s to ride

Diana’s mare, Cartimandua, and O’Kelly replaced his main jockey as

well. I hear he dismissed the man on the spot not an hour ago.”

Reggie’s eyes bulged as he squinted at the field, and Diana thought

his color resembled something close to puce
.

Diana recalled DeVere’s dead calm in learning of Reggie’s scheme

to fix the race and almost laughed aloud. So
that’s
what he was up to

when he said he had matters in hand.
Devious devil, indeed!
He had

managed to relieve the very jockeys Reggie had attempted to bribe.

Although his action did nothing to guarantee the outcome in anyone’s

favor, it certainly evened up the playing field. Reggie had been a fool

to challenge a man like DeVere and an even greater one if he thought

to threaten him.

“The mare? What the devil is
she
doing on the field?” Reggie de-

manded, 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, mis-

interpreting Reggie’s rage. “Hew is one of the best riders out there.”

“But if they each win their trial, Hew and DeVere would chal-

lenge 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 Sev-

enteenth 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 Cen-

turion 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 face down in the straw. “These stallions be unruly, dan-

gerous 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 discov-

ered Johnson’s face pulverized beyond recognition. Raising Johnson’s

head onto his lap, he screeched, “Don’t just stand there like an imbe-

cile! 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.

Chapter Eleven

“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 Cartiman-

dua 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 iron-shod hooves quaking the

ground and hurling projectiles of turf heavenward in a unified stam-

pede 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 grey 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 re-

spective horses for hot walking whilst bantering and chiding one an-

other in true brotherly fashion. With a number of lesser matches tak-

ing 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 contradic-

tory impulse to both exploit and protect her.

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so bloody dis-

tracted by a woman. He’d barely been able to concentrate on his ear-

lier 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 mon-

ey 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 de-

crepit 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. With-

out 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 be-

fore 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