Read Online A Wild Night's Bride by Victoria Vane - Free Book Online Page A

you, DeVere, may not wish to risk the consequences.”
    “And why not?” asked DeVere.
    “Because failing would mean much more than the loss of your gold. It would almost certainly land you in the tower.”
    “Indeed?” All trace of boredom had left DeVere’s face. “I am fascinated to hear more, Your Highness. What would you lay before me?”
    “I challenge you this night to take a woman of pleasure into the Bed of State at St. James Palace and bring back to me the soiled monogrammed sheet as proof.”
    “You wish me to defile the king’s bed with a whore?” DeVere roared with unbridled mirth.
    The prince smiled. “A bit crudely put, but precisely.”
    “I wish to add a proviso,” Lord Malden whispered to the prince, his gaze on Phoebe. “Not just any whore, but that one.” He gestured with a nod.
    “Why her?” the prince asked.
    Lord Malden replied with a smug smile, “Because, Your Highness, she’s a Sapphist.”
    ***
    “Not on your life,” Ned said, departing Carlton House with a throbbing head and shaky legs. “Our escapade with the lion was one thing; we at least had a fighting chance that time, but this? I don’t relish a march up Tower Hill. I quite like my head right where it is.”
    “But where is your sense of adventure, Ned? Your passion for life? You didn’t use to be such a lackluster bore.”
    Ned turned to face him. “Unlike you, I grew up! ”
    “I beg to differ. You’ve grown old . Old and dull. Dull Dog Ned.”
    “I’m not the least moved by your taunts, DeVere. I’m perfectly content with my life, while you can’t seem to stand yours.”
    “What the devil does that mean?”
    “The reason you run amok. You’re miserable!”
    “Me? Miserable?” DeVere barked with laughter. “I’m the happiest sod in England! Unlike some people who suppress their carnal appetites behind feigned respectability, I do whatever the hell I want, whenever I want. And moreover, with whomever I want.” He slanted a meaningful look to Phoebe.
    “Think what you like, DeVere. It’s your bloody wager. Not mine.”
    “And I’m not about to lose a thousand guineas over your cravenness.”
    “I won’t rise to that,” Ned said. “You know damned well I’m no craven. I proved it eighteen years ago, or did that old blow to your head affect your long-term memory? Besides, according to the terms of the wager, a second man is very much de trop.” He also looked to Phoebe.
    “You both take much for granted,” Phoebe answered with an indignant sniff.
    “What do you mean?” asked DeVere.
    “I have no interest in any of this.”
    “Of course you do,” DeVere insisted. “You are part and parcel of it.”
    “I am no such thing!” she retorted and signaled a passing hackney coach.
    “What do you think you are doing?” DeVere demanded.
    “It’s very late. I’m very tired. I’m going home.”
    “I shall escort you,” Ned said.
    “The hell you will!” DeVere cried. “You are both coming with me to St. James Palace.”
    “And do what?” Phoebe confronted him toe-to-toe, her hands firmly on her hips. “I heard the wager. I am not a woman of pleasure.”
    “No?” DeVere murmured. “Then what, precisely, was the arrangement you sought with me earlier tonight?”
    She cocked her head haughtily. “That was a private affair, certainly not for public consumption. News of this escapade will be all over London within four-and-twenty hours.”
    DeVere smirked. “Surely you misjudge. I estimate it’ll travel at least far as York by then.”
    She shot daggers with her eyes. “The result is the same. Even should I agree to such a lewd proposition and we succeed, my reputation would be in tatters. I could never recover from it.” She spun on her heel.
    “But think what the notoriety could do for your career!”
    She ignored the remark and trudged on. DeVere grabbed her arm and spun her back around. “Then think how very comfortably you and your tattered reputation could live.”
    She made