The Virgin Huntress

The Virgin
Huntress

The Devil DeVere

Book 2

Victoria Vane

Breathless Press

Calgary, Alberta

www.breathlesspress.com

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or

persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

The Virgin Huntress

Copyright© 2012 Victoria Vane

ISBN: 978-1-77101-828-9

Cover Artist: Victoria Miller

Editor: T. S. Chevrestt

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations
embodied in reviews.

Breathless Press

www.breathlesspress.com

Dedication

This little story is dedicated to all of those who chose to wait!

Acknowledgments:

A huge thank you to my family for their continued encouragement and support, and especially to my long-suffering editor, Tara Chevrestt.

C
HAPTER
O
NE

Thornhill Park, Yorkshire, 1783

“I just can’t believe it!” Vesta wailed. “Papa just pops off to London one day and returns a sennight later with a
wife?
How could he? And without even consulting me! And that...that...
hussy
is barely older than I am!”

“Vesta, dearest, I quite understand how you feel after having been his only joy for so long, but it’s hardly the end of the world,” replied her godmother Diana. “You must not despise your father for remarrying. After all, he’s mourned your mother far longer than most men would have done. Besides, he’s still a young man and no doubt has renewed hope for an heir...especially given such a
young
bride.”

Vesta curled her lips in repugnance. “Is that why he’s wed her, do you suppose? Simply to sire an heir?”

“I don’t doubt that’s
part
of his reason.”

“But why must he act such a besotted fool over her?” Vesta asked, her eyes burning with welling tears. “
Phoebe
this and
Phoebe
that and my darling, sweet
Phoebe.
It’s enough to make me cast up my accounts!”

“I know, darling.” The elder woman soothed and stroked Vesta’s hair. “But by all indications, it does
appear
a love match.”

“But it means so very much change! She has already turned the entire household upside down.” Vesta noted with particular rancor her father’s abrupt change in habits, his late risings, early retirement, and his lessened enthusiasm for estate business. “Why did he go and do such an addlepated thing when we were so happy
before?
”

“I know, I know.” Diana closed her petite body in a warm, maternal embrace. “It must be terribly hard on you, my lamb, but you must at least
try
to be happy for your father’s sake.”

“But what about you, Aunt Di? I hadn’t even considered how greatly this alters
your
position. I just can’t bear it!” Vesta’s lips quivered. “Here, you have virtually run the household since Mama...” She broke off with a sniff. “I was certain that in time, Papa would ask you...” Vesta hiccupped.

Her Aunt Diana, in reality her godmother and second cousin, had been a surrogate mother to her for the past three years. She had also helped to run the household and frequently acted as hostess for her father. It only made sense that Papa would eventually wed her. “And now Papa no longer rides with me in the mornings because darling
Phoebe
doesn’t ride. Nor does he play backgammon before bed because we can’t play as
three.
He’s ruined it all!” She flung herself onto her bed to fully indulge her histrionics.

“And what about my come-out? Has he forgotten all about it?” Her body shuddered anew. Her father’s stated purpose in going to London a fortnight ago had been to secure a house for the upcoming season. Instead, he had returned with his
own
bride in tow after a mere three days acquaintance. Vesta was truly and tearfully bewildered why any man nearing forty years would do such a foolish thing as taking a young bride like that detestable Phoebe. The circumstance filled her with resentment and rage.

There was only one answer for it. After several more minutes of racking sobs, Vesta bolted upright. “I will just run away!” Vesta cried. “I hate her! I hate them both!”

Diana retrieved a lace-edged, linen handkerchief from her sleeve and patted Vesta’s tear-stained cheeks. “There there, dearest. Surely some better arrangement can be made. It is time for your introduction to society, and your father has already secured a house for the season. Perhaps you and I could go to London together? What would you think of that?”

“Do you really mean that, Aunt Di?” Vesta blew her nose loudly. “Just you and I?”

“Why not, dear lamb? I have not been to the capital in nearly five years. I would certainly relish the change in scenery after being buried in the country for so long. Imagine the shopping, the sights, and of course, there is much to do to prepare for your come-out.”

“It would all be such a pleasure, don’t you think?” Vesta said. “But, Papa? Would he ever allow it? I’ve never been farther than Leeds without him and never anywhere overnight.”

“Don’t worry about your father.” Diana stroked Vesta’s cheek. “I shall speak with him at once and convince him it’s the best solution for all.”

***

“Are you quite sure about this, Diana?” Sir Edward asked when she put forth the notion. “Vesta is a headstrong girl and may prove a greater responsibility than you wish.”

Although his sentiments were all well and proper, Diana couldn’t help thinking his demeanor suggested as much eagerness to remain in his love nest as Diana felt to escape it.

“I foresee no trouble with Vesta,” she said with confidence. “She and I have developed a very good understanding over the past three years. You know, she has become
almost
a daughter to me.”
Or, better said, the daughter I almost had.

He studied her in a long moment of thoughtful consideration. “You aren’t really leaving because...” He looked flustered. “You see, I had hoped you and Phoebe...”

“Would become friends?” she finished with a forced smile. “But of course we shall!”
When hell doth freeze over.

“I am so pleased,” he said. “You have been such an important part of our lives. I had feared...” He gave a helpless shrug.

“Don’t be absurd, dear Edward.” She emitted a brittle laugh. “I am delighted that you are so happy.”
I just hope you don’t soon expire of a heart seizure out of zeal for your new husbandly duties.

“You are certain that this is what you wish, Diana? To leave Thornhill?”

She played with her gloves, refusing to meet his gaze. “I have long denied myself a trip to London. My gowns are all sadly outmoded, and I shall certainly relish the change in scenery after being buried in the country for so long.”

“Very well,” he said. “You will find the house comfortably furnished and fully staffed. I will, of course, provide a generous allowance for anything either of you should need. If anything unanticipated should transpire, you need only look to DeVere—”

“
DeVere?
Viscount DeVere?” Diana couldn’t help the twitch of distaste his name brought to her lips. It had been four years since she’d last seen him, and
never
would be too soon for her to encounter him again. “I assure you we shall need nothing from him. Indeed, I fear even the remotest association with that wastrel might bar Vesta from the better drawing rooms.” It was a plausible excuse and the one she would stand by.

Edward frowned. “Don’t you think that a bit harsh, Di? He is Vesta’s godfather, after all.”

She laughed. “I only wonder what my dear cousin Annalee was thinking to have ever allowed such a thing!”

His frown deepened to a full-blown scowl.

“Oh, don’t look so thunderous, Edward! I know he is your friend, but you know as well as I that his reputation is the lowest, and he revels in it. Vesta may be his godchild, but the less made of it the better.”

“You shouldn’t believe everything you hear about him.”

“Lackaday! I only need believe
half
of it to be reviled. Besides, I do not base my opinions purely on hearsay. I have had sufficient dealings of my own with the man to have his full measure.” She almost bit her tongue on her poor choice of words.
His full measure, indeed.
The remembrance of it still shook her four years later.

“Surely you don’t still hold him to blame for—”

“For Reginald? Not completely.” Diana strolled to the window and gazed out at the vast expanse of park. She sighed long and deep. She chose her next words carefully in the knowledge that the truth of her past connection with the viscount would never be revealed. DeVere had, at least, promised her that much. “We both know Reginald had long made a habit of going for wool and coming home shorn. DeVere was merely the devil’s agent who accomplished the inevitable. Still, one cannot touch...
excrement”
—she looked to Ned with a meaningful curve of her lips—”and not be defiled. I’d much rather avoid any contact with DeVere.”

“Regardless of your low opinion of him, I would be remiss beyond redemption to allow two women alone in London without benefit of male protection. I would entrust my own life to DeVere and will notify him of your arrival.”

“But—” She spun around, but his darkening look squelched further protest.

“If you wish Vesta to accompany you, I won’t hear another word.”

Though she felt like she was sucking on a lemon, she forced a smile. “Very well. I see I have no choice. If in need, I will call upon DeVere.”

When pigs take flight...

C
HAPTER
T
WO

Bloomsbury Square, London, 1783

“It is officially finished at last,” declared Captain Hewett DeVere with a sigh.

“What is finished?” asked the disembodied voice of Ludovic, Viscount DeVere, completely concealed behind the pages of
Heber’s Racing Calendar.

“The war. They have signed the Treaty of Paris. Though I’m thankful for the cease of bloodshed, this also means I am now consigned to obscurity and idleness as a half-pay officer.”

A pair of cobalt-blue eyes peered over the racing periodical. “Perhaps you can clarify for me, dear brother, which part of that statement disturbs you most? The obscurity or the idleness?”

Hew gave a half smile. “The obscurity, of course. ‘Death or glory’ is the motto of the Seventeenth Dragoons, after all. Over half my troop achieved the dubious honor of the former at the Battle of Cowpens while I survived with little to show but a half-dozen scars and a limp.”

“And the men’s lives you saved?” Ludovic asked.

“Greatly exceeded by those fallen. And we failed, Vic. In the end, it was all for naught. We have lost the war.”

“Still, obscure idleness seems extraordinarily underrated when compared to a glorious death.”

“Surely our birth order was some cosmic mix up or a freak of nature,” Hew remarked with a shake of his head. He laid down
The Gazetteer
to sip his morning coffee and sift through the mail. “You’ve a letter from Ned.”