Free A Deal with Lord Devlin by Jennifer Ann Coffeen Page A

weeks, but what followed generated even more gossip.
    Since the late Earl of Devlin had always doted on his nephew Andrew (“treats him like his own bastard!” moaned Great-Aunt Hilda), he apparently had decided to leave the bulk of his personal fortune to a mere nephew instead of his son. Of course the title went to James along with Devlin House and the country estate, both being entailed, but the family fortune was for the late Earl to do with as he pleased. And he obviously had no qualms about leaving his wife, son, and two daughters without a shilling. The Devlin family had been thrown into a panic.
    James and his cousin Andrew Greenshaw were born the same year, but the similarities ended there. For the men of the family, Andrew was the obvious favorite. He had just the right amount of looks, charm, and self-indulgent laziness to make him extremely popular with the ton and with the late Earl . James, on the other hand, had been little more than a thorn in his family’s side since he was old enough to prefer hunting in the country to drinking brandy in gambling hells. After several weeks of arguments and threats, including Great-Aunt Hilda nearly impaling the family solicitor with a knitting needle, it was decided that the will was indeed legitimate, and Andrew was a very wealthy man. James’s life of peaceful independence came crashing to an end.
    “How could Melvin have left his entire fortune to Andrew?” Lady Devlin burst out, launching into her favorite topic. “What is the point of my son being Earl if we are too poor to throw parties?”
    “You are throwing a party right now,” he informed her.
    “Entirely on credit, my dear,” she replied. “We are in debt up to our ears trying to impress Andrew. You had better be on your best behavior.”
    His lack of funds was only one of his many shortcomings as the new Earl of Devlin. James was also expected to find the perfect wife, produce an heir, and rebuild the family home. The fact that Andrew now held almost all of the Devlin fortune made this task next to impossible.
    “Of course, you could always marry for money, if you don’t wish to be nice to your cousin. Have you been introduced to Pippa Maybury? She is seventeen and plays the harp.”
    A worse combination he could not imagine. “Isn’t Pippa Maybury the girl who ran screaming from the Prince Regent’s garden party?”
    “She has a terrible fear of squirrels.” His mother turned back to scrutinizing her sculpture. “I’m only trying to help. Everyone is quite fearful you’re not up to par for your new position, especially dearest Andrew. He has his hopes pinned on becoming Earl someday.”
    “I won’t accommodate Andrew by dying.”
    “Well, no one expects you to do that,” she sniffed. “Still, you should apologize to your cousin.”
    He ignored her continued chatter, instead turning his gaze toward the perfectly coiffed guests being forced to step around the wilting rose garland placed in front of the entryway. It would only be a matter of time before Andrew arrived, and James wanted to be as far away as possible.
    “My God.” A bony hand gripped James’s arm like a talon. “What is she doing here?”
    He followed his mother’s venomous gaze to the entryway. Stepping under the garland was the infamous Lady Mallen. James spent most of his time at his mother’s country estate, but even he had heard the vicious rumors circling Lady Mallen this past year.
    “You didn’t invite her?”
    “I most certainly did not!” Lady Devlin looked panicked, glaring at an eavesdropping servant until the girl scurried behind the swan. “What impudence that woman has! She should know better than to show her face in good society after divorcing her own husband.”
    James felt a flash of irritation. Hypocrites, all of them. He had yet to meet a married couple of the ton that had managed to stay faithful to one another. Including his own father, he thought grimly, who had not been the least bit