Latercouldn’t happen.
Withinlaterlay the sort of fantasy Dev was so expert at weaving.
She must resist.
Not him.
But her own self-defeating desire to surrender to its lure.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
LATER
Until tonight, Dev had never appreciated Primrose Park as a house exceedingly suited to entertaining.
Literally, it had been built for the party presently taking place beneath its roof.
The older gentlemen and ladies had taken themselves to bed an hour ago, which had signaled to the younger set it was time for the real festivities to begin. The atmosphere had grown decidedly less formal with everyone floating between the ground floor common areas of drawing room, library, study, billiards room, and other rooms of whose existence Dev yet remained ignorant. All the while, piano music drifted through the air, sometimes gently, sometimes raucously, as various ladies and gentlemen took turns at the instrument. Any other night, Dev would’ve enjoyed the convivial atmosphere, for there was no doubt this house party was a roaring success.
But not tonight.
Tonight, he simmered and stewed.
Beatrix had been elusive all evening.
At supper, her eyes hadn’t met his even once from the opposite end of the table. Then the behavior had continued intothe night as she’d avoided him altogether by keeping to the opposite side of any room he entered—like now.
Book open in one hand, she stood before a bookcase in the library, pointing out a passage to a younger Shaw daughter and behaving as if she hadn’t noted his presence the instant he’d set foot inside this room. However, if he were to step any closer, she would begin moving.
Really, he should try it at a run and test his theory. What would the gathered think of Lord Devil chasing Lady Beatrix St. Vincent in circles around the furniture? Weren’t they supposed to be in love?
It was the last question that had him exiting the room and seeking the nearest liquor cart, which happened to be in the billiards room. He poured himselfone…two…three…fingers.
“I’ll take one of those.”
He turned to find Lady Artemis approaching. He poured a generous splash and held the tumbler out to her. They lifted their glasses in a silent toast. While he knocked his back, she took a sip, her deep brown eyes watchful above the crystal rim. Lady Artemis wasn’t here for the whiskey. She was here because she had something to say to him.
She cocked a hip onto the billiards table, as if settling in. Her head tipped to the side, the shadow of a smile curving her mouth. When she was good and ready, she asked, “You, Lord Devil, are an associate of my brother’s wife, no?”
Heat flared through Dev. His dealings with Gemma Cassidy, now the Duchess of Rakesley, didn’t exemplify his best moment. “That’s ancient history.”
Lady Artemis’s black eyebrows gave a mild lift. “I’m not sure I would call a few months agoancienthistory. More like last spring, methinks.”
Dev was in no mood to be toyed with. “May I help you in some way, Lady Artemis?”
Her bright, sunshiny smile said she wouldn’t let him minimize the past—or get away with it. “This engagement of yours to Beatrix,” she said. “True love, is it?”
Well… An unexpected shift, that.
Love.
Today, everyone was exceedingly comfortable bandying the word about.
Everyone, that was, except him and Beatrix.
“Of course,” he said. Really, it was the only thing to say.
Lady Artemis narrowed her eyes. “Do you know what Beatrix called it?”
