Devil Takes A Bride Read Online Free PDF

and many whimsical outbuildings suitable for all manner o’ charmin’ entertainments.”
    â€œThere is also the matter of privacy. My, er, friends prefer to take their pleasures away from the scrutiny of prying eyes. The bloody gossip-writers follow us everywhere, don’t you know, scribbling their little tattletales.” Dev waved his hand in a dismissive gesture. “I need a place…far from any crowds. An isolated place.”
One I can destroy without fear of harming innocent bystanders.
    â€œWell, sir, you passed the gatehouse when you come in—very sturdy, just needs a coat o’ paint. And there’s an admirable wrought-iron fence that runs the perimeter o’ the premises. The property has only one entrance, straight up the drive. To either side is bog. Very treacherous, them mud flats. The only other way in would be by boat, but then, an intruder would have to catch the river’s tide just right or be stranded.”
    Dev gave a businesslike nod and feigned indecision, but by the time they returned to the ballroom, his mind was made up. The place would suit his purposes to a tee.
    Dalloway turned to him, beaming. “As I said, sir, all she wants is a little tender lovin’ care to be brought back to ’er former glory.”
    â€œThat will, ah, cost money,” Charles delicately asserted.
    â€œHmm,” Dev said in a noncommittal growl. Clasping his hands behind his back, he drifted over to inspect the murals on the walls in all their flowery, faded exuberance, leaving his lawyer to ask Dalloway the appropriate questions.
    He gazed at a section of the mural that portrayed the beautiful goddess Flora, wearing nothing but an artfully placed garland of roses.
    â€œEr, my lord?” His solicitor cleared his throat.
    â€œYes, Charles?” Dev asked in a tone of weary indulgence as he went on studying the picture, but Dalloway interrupted before Charles could speak.
    â€œAll the paintin’s you see before you are likenesses of the famous beauties of the previous decade, milord. They all performed ’ere when this place was in its prime. We had water spectacles with fireworks, musical extravaganzas, tightrope walkers—”
    â€œTightrope walkers, really?” he asked with interest.
    â€œOh, yes, sir.”
    â€œAs I was saying—,” Charles tried again, flicking Dalloway an annoyed glance. “I have doubts, sir. Serious doubts. I—I fear the building is not safe.”
    â€œLife…is not safe, Charles.” Dev bent closer to the wall, narrowing his eyes at the figure of Flora as he noticed some marred and faded words etched on the gold ribbon that was painted below the goddess.
    Good God.
He suddenly raised his arm and snapped his black-gauntleted fingers. “Candle.”
    One of the footmen immediately stepped forward and held up the light. Dev scrutinized the awkward calligraphy by the candle’s feeble glow, stunned to make out the name inscribed there:
Miss Ginny Highgate, 1803.
He stared. By God, ’twas an omen.
    â€œWhat is it?” Ben asked, joining him by the wall.
    â€œGinny Highgate,” Dev murmured, turning to him in amazement.
    They exchanged a shocked, ominous glance.
    â€œOh, yes, milord,” Dalloway offered, “Miss Highgate used to sing here every summer. Such a favorite she was with the lads!”
    â€œWho is, ah, Miss Highgate, if I may inquire?” Charles asked.
    â€œA beautiful lady of the theater, sir. Irish, I think,” Dalloway told him. “Such long red hair as you’ve never seen. Aye, all the young gents were mad for Ginny Highgate.”
    â€œWhat happened to her?” the blonde piped up a trifle jealously.
    â€œNobody knows,” Dalloway said. “She disappeared.”
    Not entirely true,
Dev thought, pained by his fairly clear idea of the ugly fate the young beauty had met.
    For two years, through various hired agents, he had been