Czytaj książkę: «The Devil And Drusilla»
Diana stared at him. He was the most handsome man she had ever seen.
He resembled nothing so much as the statue of Apollo that Jeremy’s father had brought from Greece. His hair, cut short in the latest fashion, was golden and slightly curling. His eyes were as blue as the sunlit sea and his mouth was long and shapely. He gave off an aura of cold strength and assured masculinity, which was reflected in a voice so hard and measured that it shocked Drusilla into silence.
Giles struggled upright and said indignantly, “Who the devil are you, anyway?”
The stranger laughed and rose. “You might say the devil himself if you wished. But I would prefer you to call me Devenish.”
The Devil and Drusilla
Harlequin® Historical
MILLS & BOON
Before you start reading, why not sign up?
Thank you for downloading this Mills & Boon book. If you want to hear about exclusive discounts, special offers and competitions, sign up to our email newsletter today!
Or simply visit
Mills & Boon emails are completely free to receive and you can unsubscribe at any time via the link in any email we send you.
PAULA MARSHALL
Married with three children, Paula Marshall has had a varied life. She began her career in a large library and ended it as a senior academic in charge of history in a Polytechnic. She has traveled widely, has been a swimming coach and has appeared on British television in University Challenge and Mastermind. She has always wanted to write, and likes her novels to be full of adventure and humor.
The Devil and Drusilla
PAULA MARSHALL
TORONTO • NEW YORK • LONDON
AMSTERDAM • PARIS • SYDNEY • HAMBURG
STOCKHOLM • ATHENS • TOKYO • MILAN • MADRID
PRAGUE • WARSAW • BUDAPEST • AUCKLAND
Available from Harlequin®Historical and PAULA MARSHALL
Rinaldi’s Revenge #133
*An Unconventional Heiress #141
*Hester Waring’s Marriage #147
*A Strange Likeness #153
*An Innocent Masquerade #158
The Astrologer’s Daughter #172
*His One Woman #181
*The Dollar Prince’s Wife #185
*Prince of Secrets #189
**Maid of Honor #198
**The Black Sheep’s Bride #212
The Daring Duchess #215
Major Chancellor’s Mission #224
Lord Hadleigh’s Rebellion #228
The Devil and Drusilla #241
DON’T MISS THESE OTHER
NOVELS AVAILABLE NOW:
#907 THE OUTRAGEOUS LADY FELSHAM—Louise Allen
Her unhappy marriage over, Lady Belinda Felsham plans to enjoy herself. An outrageous affair with breathtakingly handsome Major Ashe Reynard is exactly what she needs!
FollowThose Scandalous Ravenhurstsin the second book of Louise Allen’s sensual miniseries.
#908 A LOVER’S KISS—Margaret Moore
A Frenchwoman in London, Juliette Bergerine is unexpectedly thrown together in hiding with Sir Douglas Drury after they are mysteriously attacked.
As desire gives way to a deeper emotion, what will become of Juliette’s reputation?
#909 THE BOUNTY HUNTER AND THE HEIRESS— Carol Finch
Evangeline Hallowell is determined to catch the dirty, rotten scoundrel who stole her sister’s money. But pretending to be a hard-bitten bounty hunter’s wife means things are bound to go awry….
Danger lurks and wild passions flare in the rugged canyons of Colorado.
#910 POSSESSED BY THE HIGHLANDER—Terri Brisbin
Peacemaker for the MacLerie clan, Duncan is manipulated into marrying the exiled “Robertson Harlot.” Despite shadows lurking over their union, Duncan discovers a love for Marian and will stop at nothing to protect her….
The third in Terri Brisbin’s Highlander miniseries. Honor, promises and dark secrets fuel this medieval tale of clan romance.
#242 A SCANDALOUS LADY—Francesca Shaw
Playboy bachelor the Earl of Ashby has become fascinated by the beautiful actress Lysette Davide, agreeing to a wager with his friends to make her his mistress! But Lysette, in actual fact, is also a highly respectable society lady….
Regency fun and games. When will our hero realize that the two women he is courting are one and the same?
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter One
‘It’s true what they say about you, you have no heart at all, Devenish. None. They rightly nickname you devilish. You fleeced that poor boy at Watier’s last night as cold-bloodedly as though you were shearing a sheep!’
The subject of this tirade, Henry Devenish, Fourth Earl of Devenish and Innescourt, raised his fine black brows and said in a voice indicating total indifference, ‘The boy of whom you speak is twenty-two years old. He was gambling with money which he does not possess and he needed to learn a quick lesson before he became a gambling wastrel for life.’
‘But did you need to ruin him? I had thought better of you, Devenish.’
‘Oh, never do that, George. Most unwise. You should know by now that I have no better self.’
George Hampden, who sometimes (wrongly) thought that he was Devenish’s only friend in the world, gazed at his distant cousin hoping to see some softening in his coldly handsome face. He found none. Devenish might have the golden good looks of an archangel in a Renaissance painting, but they were those of an avenging one, all mercy lacking.
‘So you intend to call in his IOUs. Including the last one when he bet the family home—and lost.’
‘He took that risk, not I.’ Devenish’s tone was almost indifferent.
‘And if you can ruin someone so easily, do you expect me still to remain your friend?’
‘I never expect anything of anyone, least of all one of my relatives. And the choice is, of course, yours, not mine.’
How to move him? George said impulsively, ‘I don’t believe that even you will do such a thing. You don’t need the lad’s money, he’s not your enemy—’
‘And it’s not your business what I do with my winnings—or how I gained them. Forgive me if I decline to pursue this matter further. I am due at the Lords this afternoon: they are debating this matter of the Midlands frame-breakers and I mean to put my oar in.’
George sank into the nearest chair. They were in the library at Innescourt House, off Piccadilly. It was a noble room, lined not only with books, but also with beautifully framed naval maps. An earlier Devenish had been a sailor before he had inherited the title.
His great-grandson was standing before a massive oak desk on which lay the pile of IOUs which young Jack Allinson had scrawled the night before.
‘I shall never understand you, Devenish, never. How you can be so heartless to that poor lad and in the next breath dash off to the Lords to speak on behalf of a pack of murdering Luddites is beyond me.’
‘Then don’t try, dear fellow. Much better not. You’ll only give yourself the megrims. Come to the Lords with me, instead, and enjoy the cut and thrust of debate.’
‘Sorry, Devenish, I’ve had my fill of cut and thrust with you today. I’ll see you at the Leominsters this evening, I suppose. They say that the Banbury beauty will be there. The on dit is that she’s about to accept young Orville. Everyone thought that you were ready to make her a Countess yourself.’
Devenish laughed. He picked up the pile of IOUs and riffled carelessly through them before he spoke.
‘Never believe on dits about me, George, they are invariably wrong. Besides, I could never marry a woman who has no conversation, and the Beauty is singularly lacking in that. Unfortunately in my experience the beauties have no conversation, and the conversationalists have no beauty, so I suppose that I am doomed to bachelorhood.’
‘My experience, too,’ returned George gloomily. ‘Look, Devenish,’ he added as he turned to leave, ‘you will think of what I said about young Allinson, won’t you? It cannot profit you to ruin him: your reputation is bad enough already without his committing suicide. He was threatening to shoot himself after you had left this morning.’
‘Oh, as to that,’ riposted Devenish, raising one quizzical eyebrow, ‘it is also my experience that those who talk loudly and dramatically in public of such an extreme measure rarely put it into practice. No, he’ll go and get drunk first and when his head’s cleared he’ll visit me to beg for mercy.’
‘Which you will grant him?’ said George eagerly.
‘Who knows? It depends on whether my chef is on form at dinner that day. I really do have more to do than think about young Allinson, you know. My speech, for instance. Do be off with you, George. Go and visit the Turkish baths or lose a few hundred yourself somewhere.’
‘Oh, I never gamble.’
‘Yes, I know. It’s a weakness of yours not to have any weaknesses!’
George’s shout of ‘Devenish, you’re impossible,’ floated through the double doors as he left.
Devenish raised his eyebrows again and laughed. However much he grumbled, George would be back again to reproach and chivvy him. He threw the IOUs on to his desk, and debated whether to send for his secretary, Thorpe.
At least he wouldn’t have the impudence to complain about his non-existent moral sense as George always did. He noted idly that Thorpe had been in earlier and had left a small pile of correspondence on his desk for him to deal with.
Devenish picked up the first letter. It was from his agent, Robert Stammers, who ran Tresham Hall, on the edge of Tresham Magna village in Surrey, and the estate around it. He had never been back there since he had succeeded to the title ten years earlier when he had just turned twenty-three. He had preferred to go instead on a belated Grand Tour of Europe, even though Great Britain was in the middle of the war against Napoleon.
Robert had accompanied him as his secretary, and twice a year he visited Innescourt House as a favoured guest, somewhat to George Hampden’s bemusement.
That the Grand Tour had turned into something more exciting and important was known to few—and certainly not to George. Even after that, when he had returned to England Devenish had never revisited Tresham Hall: it held too many memories which he had no wish to awaken.
And now Robert was urging him to go there. ‘Your presence is needed at Tresham, m’lord,’ he had written, ‘and for more reasons than I care to commit to paper.’
Now that was a remarkable statement from an underling, was it not? Calculated to rouse a man’s curiosity—which was doubtless why Robert had so worded it! If anyone else had written him such a letter Devenish would have dismissed it, but he had appointed Robert to be his agent because he had the best of reasons to trust him.
Devenish sighed. He sighed because Robert was one of the few people in the world who had a right to make a claim on him, so he must agree to what Robert wished. He did not call Thorpe in to dictate the letter to him but began to write it himself.
‘Damn you, Rob,’ he began without preamble. ‘You, of all people, must understand how little I wish to return to Tresham and therefore I have to agree to what you ask, if only because, knowing you, I must believe that you have good reasons for making such a request of me—’
He got no further. There was the sound of voices in the corridor outside, the door was flung open, and Tresidder, his butler, entered, but not in his usual decorous fashion. He was being pushed in backwards by, of all people, young Allinson. He was not only shouting in Tresidder’s face but was also threatening him with a pistol.
‘M’lord,’ gasped Tresidder, made voluble by fright, ‘I dare not stop him. He insisted on seeing you, even when I told him that you had given orders not to be disturbed, and then he pulled out a pistol and threatened me with it if I did not do as he wished.’
‘Quite right,’ raved Allinson, releasing him. ‘And now I am here, you may go.’ He waved his pistol at Devenish who had risen, had walked round his desk and was advancing on him.
‘Tell him to leave us, damn you, Devenish. My quarrel is with you, not with him. And if you come a step further I’ll shoot you.’
Devenish retreated and leaned back against the desk, his arms folded, the picture of undisturbed indolence.
‘Yes, do leave us, Tresidder,’ he drawled. ‘I am sure that you have no wish to take part in this unseemly farce which Allinson thinks is a tragedy! Really, you young fool, you should be writing this fustian for Drury Lane, not trying to live it!’
‘Damn you, Devenish,’ shrieked Allinson, waving the pistol dangerously about. ‘First you ruin me, and then you mock me. I came here to make you give me back my IOUs, but I’ve a mind to kill you out of hand if you don’t mend your manners to me! You’ve ruined me, so I’ve nothing to lose.’
If he had thought to frighten the man before him by threatening his life, he was much mistaken. However dangerous the situation in which he found himself, Devenish was determined not to allow the young fool to intimidate him.
‘Oh, I might take you seriously, Allinson, if you were prepared to admit that you ruined yourself. Do stop waving that firearm about. Did no one ever teach you that it’s bad form to point a loaded pistol at people? I suppose it is loaded—or did you forget before you embarked on these histrionics?’
Devenish’s insults set Allinson choking with rage. He recovered himself with difficulty and ground out, ‘Of course it’s loaded—something you’d do well to remember. So, do as I ask, hand over my IOUs and I’ll not shoot you, although it’s all you deserve—’
‘Oh, very well. Anything to oblige a man who’s threatening my life. I’ve no desire to bleed to death on my best Persian carpet. It came from Constantinople, you know. It’s supposed to be nearly five hundred years old. My heir—God knows who he might be, I’ve never taken the trouble to find out—wouldn’t like it to be ruined,’ Devenish remarked chattily, making no move to do as he was bid. ‘It’s one of the house’s greatest treasures, you know.’
His frivolity nearly had Allinson gibbering. ‘Stow that nonsense at once, and give me my IOUs. I mean it.’
Still waving his pistol about, he advanced on his enemy until they were almost face to face.
Devenish said with a weary smile, which merely served to enrage Allinson the more, ‘Bound and determined to swing for me, are you?’
To which Allinson made no answer: only bared his teeth at him, and waved the pistol about threateningly.
‘Oh, very well,’ Devenish drawled, ‘I see that I shall have to oblige you. Needs must—if only to save the carpet.’
He slowly turned toward his desk as if to pick up the IOUs lying there. And then, like lightning—or a snake striking—he swung round with the heavy glass paperweight he had snatched up in his hand, and struck Allinson full in the face with it before his tormentor could grasp what he was doing.
Startled, and letting out a shriek of pain as he threw his arms up in an instinctive gesture to ward off what had already hit him, young Allinson’s finger tightened on the trigger so that he fired his pistol into the air.
The ball made a neat hole in the face of a bad portrait of the Third Earl which had been hung considerately high.
Between fright and pain Allinson dropped the pistol before falling to his knees, and protecting his damaged face by clasping his hands over it; blood was running from his nose.
Devenish picked up the pistol and laid it carefully on his desk before pulling him roughly to his feet.
‘You incompetent young fool,’ he said, still chatty. ‘You are as inconsiderate as I might have expected. I don’t object to you ruining a damned bad painting, but I don’t want your blood all over the carpet. Here.’
He handed the moaning boy a spotless handkerchief, just as the library door burst open and a posse of footmen entered led by his chief groom, Jowett.
‘A bit slow, lads, weren’t you?’ was his only remark. ‘I might have been cat’s meat by now.’
Jowett, who knew his master, grinned, and said, ‘But you ain’t, m’lord, are you, so all’s well. That ass, Tresidder, beggin’ your pardon, m’lord, was so frightened out of his wits it took some time for him to tell us what was to-do. I see you’ve got things well in hand, as per usual. Send for the Runners to deal with him, shall I?’
‘By no means. A mad doctor to treat him might be more useful. On the other hand, I think you can safely leave this matter to me to clear up. Let me think. Hmm, ah, yes, Mr Allinson discharged his pistol whilst inviting me to admire it. Why call the Runners in for that? Crime, not incompetence, is their game, eh, Allinson?’
‘If you say so, m’lord,’ came in a muffled wail through Devenish’s ruined handkerchief.
‘Oh, I do say so, and more beside when my belated saviours depart. You may go, Jowett. Oh, and take the pistol you will find on my desk with you. I don’t think that Mr Allinson will be needing it again. It’s quite safe. It’s not loaded now.’
‘I know, m’lord.’ Jowett was cheerful. ‘I heard the shot just before we came in. Knowing you, I couldn’t believe that aught was amiss.’
‘Your faith in me is touching—and one day may be unjustified—but not today. Silly boys are fair game for a man of sense.’
Allinson raised his head. His nose had stopped bleeding. He said mournfully, ‘I suppose that you are right to mock me.’
‘No suppose at all. Had you succeeded in killing me, you would have met a nasty end on Tyburn Tree. Had you made me give you back your IOUs, you would have ended up a pariah, gambling debts being debts of honour. Think yourself lucky that all you have to show for your folly is a bloody nose.
‘And do stand up straight instead of cringing like a gaby. I’ve a mind to lecture you, and I want your full attention.’
‘You have it, m’lord. I must have run mad to do what I did. But to lose everything—you understand—’
‘Indeed, not. I am quite unable to understand that I should ever gamble away money which I didn’t possess and a house which I did. As for compounding my folly by threatening to commit murder! No, no, I don’t understand—and nor should you.’
Allinson hung his head. Whether coming to his senses had brought him repentance was hard to tell. He muttered, ‘And after all, I am still ruined. I cannot expect you to show me any mercy now that I have threatened your life.’
Devenish sat down and motioned to Allinson to remain standing. ‘Before you came in enacting a Cheltenham tragedy, or rather, melodrama, one of my more sentimental relatives was begging me to spare you. I was inclined to disoblige him, but on second thoughts it might disoblige him more if I did as he wished. He will not then be able to contrast my vindictive bloody-mindedness with his forgiving virtue!
‘What I am prepared to do is to continue to hold your IOUs—’
Allinson gave a stifled moan. ‘I might have known,’ he muttered.
‘You know nothing for you have not allowed me to finish. You would do well to curb your reckless impetuosity before you become gallows’ meat. Hear me. What I am prepared to do is not to call them in so long as you refrain from gambling in future. Should you begin again I shall not hesitate to ruin you.’
This time Allinson groaned. ‘The sword of Damocles,’ he said at last. He was referring to the old legend in which a sword was held over Damocles’ head, poised to fall, put there by the tyrant he had flattered in order to show him the limitations of life and power.
‘Exactly. I’m charmed to discover that you learned something at Oxford—was it?’
‘You know it was. You seem to know everything.’
‘Enough.’ Devenish rose. ‘Do we have a bargain?’
‘You know we have. You leave me no choice—’
‘No indeed, again. Of course you have a choice—although I take your comment to mean a grudging acceptance of my generous offer.’
‘Generous offer,’ wailed Allinson. ‘You mock me again. I am your prisoner.’
Devenish pounced on Allinson once more. He grabbed hold of him, gripping him by his over-elaborate cravat.
‘Listen to me, you ungrateful young fool. You have, through my leniency, escaped the gallows because otherwise that is where your stupid escapade would have taken you. I offer you freedom and a chance to reform your dissolute life—and you jib at doing so.
‘Answer me! Yes or no, unequivocally?’
‘Yes—if you will stop strangling me,’ Allinson croaked.
‘Unequivocally, I said. Yes, or no?’
‘Yes, yes, yes.’
‘And remember what awaits you should you backslide.’
‘I’ll not do that.’ Inspiration struck Allinson. ‘I’ll…I’ll buy a commission, turn soldier—that should keep me out of trouble.’
Devenish gave a short laugh and released him. ‘God help the British Army, then! Now, go. I have letters to write and a speech to rehearse. Oh, and by the way, give Tresidder a guinea from your pocket to make up for the fright which you gave him.’
‘I haven’t got a guinea. My pockets are to let.’
‘Then give him the pin from your cravat instead—and be gone.’
The relieved boy scuttled out of the room, pulling the pin from his cravat as he left. Devenish said aloud to the damaged portrait of his grandfather, ‘God forgive me—although you wouldn’t have done—for letting him off. I must be growing soft these days.’
And then he sat down to finish his letter.
He was late arriving at Lady Leominster’s that night. He had written to Robert, naming a date for his arrival at Tresham—‘and God help you if you have sent for me for nothing,’ he had ended.
His speech in the Lords, asking for clemency and help for the starving Midlands framework knitters, who had recently rioted at Loughborough in Leicestershire, had created a great deal of excitement, if nothing else.
‘What interest do you belong to?’ one excited peer had shouted at him. ‘You’re Whig one week, and Tory the next.’
‘None,’ Devenish had shot back. ‘I’m my own man and you’d better not forget it.’
‘A loose cannon, careering round the deck then,’ his neighbour, Lord Granville, had said languidly to him. ‘Hit, miss and to the devil when anyone gets in your way.’
His reward for this shrewd comment was a crack of laughter from Devenish. ‘By God, Granville,’ he had offered, ‘you’d be Prime Minister if you could make a speech half as incisive as your private judgements.’
‘Not a remark anyone would make about you,’ returned Granville, his perfect politeness of delivery robbing his words of their sting. ‘You have no private judgements. Everything you say is for public consumption. So far as that goes, you’re the most honest man in the two Houses.’
Remembering this interchange, Devenish smiled when he saw Granville and his wife across the Leominsters’ ballroom, talking to the Home Secretary, Lord Sidmouth. Some devil in him, which desired confrontation today, had him walking over to them.
Sidmouth’s response to him was all that he had expected. ‘Ah, here comes the noble advocate for the murdering Luddites I’m busy trying to control! What got into you, Devenish, to have you defending them?’
Devenish had a sudden vision of a mean street in a Northern town where a half-starved boy and his penniless and widowed mother had eked out a poor living.
He repressed it and said, ‘I don’t condone their violence, you know, but I do understand what causes it. Some relief, surely, could be given to those who wish to work, but who are unable to do so.’
‘Not Jacobin tendencies then, eh, Devenish? No feeling for revolution?’ Sidmouth said this quietly. He was a mild man. ‘No, don’t answer me, I know that on the whole you are more like friend Granville here and favour moderate and gradual change.’
He paused, ‘Perhaps Lord and Lady Granville, you will forgive us both. Devenish is well met. I have need of a private and quiet word with him. You will both excuse us, I trust.’
The Granvilles assured him that they would. Sidmouth led Devenish into an ante-room and shut its double doors behind them. Without preamble he said, ‘Do you intend to visit Tresham in the near future?’
Devenish said, ‘I have thought of doing so, yes. It’s years since I was there. My agent reproaches me every month for my absence, so I have arranged to go as soon as the House rises.’
‘Yes, you take your duties seriously. As I take mine. I ask you because something odd has been happening there recently. The Lord Lieutenant of Surrey has brought to my notice that over the last few years two men, one a person of quality, have disappeared. The gentleman was later found murdered. Several women of the lower orders have also disappeared—one as recently as a month ago. No reason has been found for their disappearance, and apart from that of the gentleman, not one of their bodies has been recovered. He would like an enquiry made.
‘Now, I have the hands of myself—and the few men I have at my disposal—overfull with this business of controlling radical revolution, to say nothing of Luddite discontent. I was speaking to an old friend of mine—Wellington, to be exact—and he told me that he has reason to believe that you are a sound man in a crisis involving danger. That being so I would ask you—discreetly, mind—to investigate this sorry business and report back to me should you find anything of moment.’
Devenish’s first thought was of Robert’s mysterious letter. He said nothing, however, other than, ‘I think that the Duke overestimates my abilities, but I will do as you ask. As a stranger to the district it will not seem odd if I ask questions about it. I take it that that is all the information you have. Has no other landowner raised the matter?’
‘Yes, Leander Harrington, the eccentric fellow who lives at Marsham Abbey, alerted the Lord Lieutenant about the second man who disappeared. It was his valet, and although he had no reason to believe that foul play was involved, he had given no warning of his imminent departure. On the other hand his clothes and possessions had gone, which seemed to indicate that he had left of his own free will.’
‘As a matter of interest, have you any information about the murdered gentleman?’
‘Yes, indeed. He was Jeremy Faulkner of Lyford, a young man of substance. He was found dead in a wood some miles from his home. His body had been brutally savaged by an animal, it was thought, although whether before or after death was not known. His widow, Mrs Drusilla Faulkner, the late Godfrey Stone of Stone Court’s daughter, had reported him missing at the beginning of the previous week.’
‘And Lyford House is less than a mile from my seat at Tresham. I see why you thought of me.’
‘Coupled with what Wellington hinted, yes.’
Well, at least it would help to pass the time at Tresham—and perhaps serve to subdue his unwanted memories.
‘I can’t promise success,’ Devenish said slowly, ‘but I’ll do my best.’
‘Excellent, I shall be able to reassure the Lord Lieutenant that I am taking him seriously—although I shall not tell him who my emissary is. The fewer people who know, the better. This business might be more dangerous than it appears.’
Sidmouth paused. ‘You’re a good fellow,’ he added warmly. ‘I felt sure that you would oblige me.’
‘Despite my reputation for never obliging anyone.’ Devenish began to laugh. ‘At least it will enliven a few dull weeks.’
Later he was to look back on that last remark and at the light-hearted fool who had made it, but at the time he walked back to the ballroom to congratulate Lord Orville on having won his beauty.
Darmowy fragment się skończył.
