“What I propose is a simple business transaction,” she argued.
“Simple?” Edward laughed. “That’s where you are wrong my dear. Nothing is ever simple with DeVere. I fear any transaction made with him will be much more than you bargained for.”
“I thank you for the word of warning, dear Edward, but rest assured, I am not susceptible to such men. DeVere may accept or decline my proposal as he wishes.”
***
Diana didn’t have to wait long for an answer to her message. Within an hour of DeVere’s return, he sent word via a footman for her to meet him in his private withdrawing room. She was surprised to find him waiting for her, looking like he had just finished his toilette. His black hair was damp and hung loosely about his shoulders. He was informally clothed in a dressing gown over his smallclothes and devoid of cravat over his fine lawn shirt. Diana struggled to pull her gaze from the strong column of his neck, a sight that seemed almost illicit in its visual appeal. His state of casual undress made her oddly uncomfortable, as if he implied they were on terms of some intimacy, rather than near-strangers.
DeVere swept her an almost-mocking bow.
“A thousand pardons for interrupting you,” Diana said. “But I have a personal matter that Edward felt you might be inclined to assist with.”
He replied with his sardonic smile. “And you have come to me? How extraordinary. Whatever it might be, you may consider me at your disposal.”
“While I appreciate your graciousness, my lord, I would never accept such a blank check from anyone.”
He inclined his head to a velvet-covered settee. “Then pray tell me what I can do for you.” He waited for her to settle her skirts and then joined her, draping an arm casually over the back. Diana shifted forward on the seat, all too aware of the tantalizing and unsettling fusion of sandalwood shaving soap and musky male. His proximity and scent were a combined assault that jangled her nerves and made her breath quicken. Diana fussed with a fold in her skirts, not daring to meet his gaze straight-on for fear he might be able to read her lustful thoughts.
“It concerns the races tomorrow.” She glanced up to find DeVere studying her with an inscrutable expression. “I wish to make a late entry.”
“But hasn’t Lord Reginald already entered a horse to race?”
“He has, but there is another…a mare. I want to run her.”
“There can only be one entry per owner.”
“But I am the owner,” she said. “The mare is mine. We had brought her to Epsom for breeding, but now I wish her to race.”
He looked puzzled. “You would wager against your own husband?”
“Yes. My mare is the better horse.”
His brows shot up. “That’s quite an extraordinary claim.”
“She is an extraordinary mare. I raised this horse, my lord, bottle-fed her when her dam rejected her. She was such a puny thing, we never thought she’d survive, let alone race, but she’s fleet as a gazelle. In truth, I was glad to hear of the subscription race for mares.”
“Ah, but you do not perceive my modus operandi.”
“What do you mean?”
“I purchased this property to expand my racing stud and am in need of superior broodmares. How better to find the best than to see them run?”
“Devious, indeed!” She laughed. “But won’t winning mares come at a premium price?”
“Price is little object when I want something.” He gave her a meaningful smile. “But there is one thing I don’t understand. If what you say is true, why did your husband not enter this horse?”
“Because my husband seems to have very fixed notions about the inferiority of females.”
“Following the general principles of nature, I would have to agree with him. However, one does upon occasion discover some most remarkable specimens among your gender.” His gaze swept slowly over her, creating a wave of heat in its wake. “You are aware the entry fee is two hundred fifty pounds?”
“Yes,” she said. It was a small fortune, yet a much larger one awaited the winner. “That is why I have come to you privately. I would like to keep this matter quiet. Just between us.” Reaching behind her neck with trembling hands, Diana fumbled to unclasp the double strand of pearls. The action thrust her breasts upward. DeVere’s eyes were fixed on her motions the entire time, an appreciative smile hovering over his mouth. His pupils flared with greater interest when the pearls suddenly released and dropped into her bodice.
His lips twitched. “I don’t suppose you require any assistance?”
Her stomach fluttered and she felt the heat of color suffuse her cheeks. “No, my lord. I can manage, thank you.” She retrieved the necklace and held the warm pearls in her hand for a long moment, gauging their weight against her decision. At length, she dropped them in her lap in front of him. “They are a family heirloom,” she said. “The clasp is diamond. I don’t have an appraisal, but I assure you they are worth at least half the subscription fee.”