Notorious. Nicola Cornick
Dev said.
“My aunt and uncle died a long time ago,” Susanna said.
Dev’s lips twisted. “Am I supposed to believe that, or will they resurrect as swiftly as you have?”
Susanna ignored him and turned away, stroking the silky neck of the gelding. “You have a sweet nature,” she said to the horse, “but I don’t think you would make a good mount.” The horse whickered softly, pressing its velvet nose into her gloved hand.
“Too lazy,” Dev concurred. “I suppose Fitz picked the horse out for you.” His gaze came to rest on her, bright and mocking. “He never sees beyond the obvious. For him it is all about show and he has as poor taste in horses as he has poor judgment of women.” He smiled. “Are you going to flatter him to the extent of paying good money for a bad horse?”
“Of course not,” Susanna said. Dev’s words had stung, as they had been meant to do. She could see the dislike in his eyes, chill and unyielding. Nothing could have made it clearer to her that it was far too late for regrets and far too late to go back. Dev believed her to be conniving and duplicitous, which was no great surprise since she had made sure he would believe it by spinning him a pack of lies.
For a moment she wanted to cry out to him that it had not been her fault, to take back all the things she had said three nights ago at the ball and pour out the truth. The strength of her impulse shook her deeply. But she could not do it. Whatever had been between them was dead and gone anyway and now she had a job to do, the only thing that stood between her and penury. She had not fought every inch of the way to save herself and the twins in order to throw it all away now. The thought of losing all she had worked for terrified her. Their lives were on a knife-edge as it was.
Nevertheless her heart shriveled, cold and tight, to see the contempt in Dev’s eyes. The only defense she had was to pretend he did not have the power to hurt her anymore.
“You have read the fortune-hunter’s rulebook, too,” she taunted. “You know full well I shall thank Fitz for choosing me such a fine beast and compliment him on his discernment whilst pleading my privilege as a female to change my mind and hold on to my money. My choice,” she added, “would be that mare over there.” She pointed to a spirited chestnut that was being shown around the ring.
“You have a good eye for quality.” Somehow Dev managed to make even that compliment sound like an insult. “Mares can be a handful,” he added, his gaze dwelling thoughtfully on her face. “But perhaps you are looking to ride something more exciting than a steady gelding this time?”
His meaning was crystal clear beneath the thin veneer of civility. Susanna’s gaze clashed with his and she saw the challenge in his eyes.
“I prefer a horse with spirit and attitude,” she said. “Whereas you—” she tilted her head thoughtfully, eyes narrowed on him “—would probably pick something as unsubtle as that stallion simply as a fashion accessory. All muscles and no brain.”
Dev gave a crack of laughter. “I wouldn’t throw away that much money on something that might kill me.”
“You have changed then,” Susanna said politely. Then added, as he raised his brows in quizzical challenge, “Wild-goose chases to Mexico in search of treasure, ludicrously dangerous missions for the British Navy, a preposterous voyage to the Arctic during which you boarded another ship as though you were a pirate …” She stopped as the look in his eyes turned to pure amusement.
“You have been following my career,” he murmured. “How flattering and unexpected. Could you not quite let me go, Susanna?”
Susanna had in fact followed every step of Devlin’s career but she did not want him to know that. It would only feed his conceit, as well as raising awkward questions about why she had cared, questions she could not and did not want to answer.
“I read the scandal sheets,” she said, shrugging. “They convinced me that you were as reckless as I had always believed you to be.”
“Reckless,” Dev said. There was an odd tone in his voice. “Yes, I have always been that, Susanna.”
At seventeen Susanna had loved that wildness in him, such a counterpoint to her staid and predictable life. She had been dazzled, blinded by the thrill of it all, swept away. Their secret meetings had been breathtakingly illicit. The risk had transfixed her. Even though a tiny, sensible part of her mind had argued that Dev was too handsome and too exciting ever to belong to her, she had wanted to believe that he could. Even though she had secretly suspected he had only proposed to her because he wanted to sleep with her, she had wanted to believe he truly loved her. For one brief day and night she had given herself up to pleasure, feeling alive for the first time in years, lit up with love and excitement. But in the morning had come the reckoning and after that she had paid and paid.
She swallowed what felt like a huge lump in her throat. It was too late now to regret her lack of courage or faith. She did not know why she should feel this misery, as though she had let something valuable slip away, because over the years Dev had surely proved himself exactly as irresponsible and rash and dangerous as she had known he would be.
“I am not Susanna anymore,” she said. “I am Caroline Carew, remember?”
Dev’s hand came out and caught her sleeve. She looked up, startled, to see the spark of pure anger in his eyes.
“So you jettisoned your name along with everything else,” he murmured. “You could not rid yourself of your old life fast enough, could you?”
Susanna shrugged. “One moves on from past mistakes. And Caroline is my middle name.” She paused. “I hope I can rely on you to remember that I am now Caroline Carew?”
For a long moment Dev looked into her eyes and Susanna almost flinched from the dark anger she saw there. Her heart was racing, her chest tight. Her skin prickled with awareness.
“I would hate you to think that you can rely on me for anything,” he said pleasantly. “Is not ambiguity the spice of life?”
“Servant, Devlin.” Fitz’s bored, aristocratic tones cut across them and Dev dropped Susanna’s arm as though it was a hot coal, straightened, turned and sketched Fitz a bow.
“Alton.” His voice was very cold.
Fitz’s gaze darted from him to Susanna’s face. She pressed her gloved hands together to prevent them from shaking. There was something about Devlin’s potent physical presence that got through to her every time. Over the years she had built up such a strong protective facade that she had thought it could withstand anything. Dev demolished it with one look or one touch.
“Lady Carew,” Dev said, and Susanna heard the emphasis he put on the name, “is trying to decide whether to accept your recommendation, Alton.”
Susanna saw the frown that touched Fitz’s forehead at the suggestion that his judgment of horseflesh might not be sound.
“He is a beautiful horse, my lord,” she said quickly, to repair the damage, “but I am in two minds—I can always hire a riding horse from the livery stables. Would it not be more fun to own a racehorse instead?”
She thought she heard Dev snort—but it could have been one of the horses. Fitz’s face cleared miraculously.
“A racehorse!” he said enthusiastically. “Capital idea, Lady Carew! Capital!”
“I am sure,” Susanna said, slipping her hand through his arm, “that it would be vastly exciting to watch it run—and to gamble on it, as well, of course.”
“Only if you are plump in the pocket,” Dev said dryly. His gaze traveled over her, lingering on the neat fit of her riding habit as it emphasized the lush curve of her breasts. “But I forgot—you are very well endowed, are you not, Lady Carew?”
His direct gaze brought the blood up into Susanna’s face. She could remember more than Dev’s gaze lingering on those curves.
“I