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where hopefully she won’t be getting any silly ideas. She’s only thirteen, which means we have a little time left.”
    Bosworth brimmed with fatherly pride, and Devlin almost felt a hint of jealousy. But since he had grown up knowing about his family legend—his curse—he had never really searched for true love. Nor for a wife for that matter, for he didn’t feel the need to get attached to someone he couldn’t love in the first place. And with his mind thusly made up, the question of having children had never come up either. Still, he wasn’t worried about a family heir. His brother Dean was in his early twenties and therefore of prime marriageable age. He might as well pass the title on to his children. Or what about the little latecomer of the family: his sister Rose. If her childlike beauty is anything to go by, she’s going to have an admirer on every single one of her fingers by the time she is old enough , Devlin thought.
    “What brings you to town? Have you reconsidered? Are you at long last looking for a wife?”
    “No, Bosworth, it’s not that. I’m looking for a certain Venus!”
    Devlin extended his long limbs and reached for his tea, while Bosworth was doubling over with laughter.
    “A certain Venus! Marvelous, just marvelous, Weston. Unfortunately, urgent matters are calling, otherwise I would love to stay for a longer chat before you return to your dull country life. Here’s an idea,” Bosworth suggested. “How about you grace us with your presence for dinner on Friday night? A lady, a friend of the family, is currently in town, and it would be quite agreeable to welcome a second gentleman within our midst.”
    Devlin shook his head regretfully. “Thank you, Bosworth, that’s very kind indeed, but I wouldn’t want to impose.”
    “Impose? Weston, I’d be the one owing you a favor if I didn’t have to spend the evening alone with these ladies. They will be catching up on too many years’ worth of news and gossip, and I’m worried I shall perish from sheer boredom.”
    Devlin laughed. Where he might have felt envious before, the feeling was gone. If anything, he was feeling a little sorry for his friend.
    “Alright then, friend, but I will call in that favor in due time; you can count on it,” Devlin finally gave in, and a visibly relieved, chubby Bosworth took his leave.
    Devlin looked at his pocket watch and decided that it was time to follow up on his plans concerning the Venus . Since Langston could no longer be of help, he would now try to obtain the required information some other way: he would meet with the infamous Mr. Corbett. Infamous, because nobody knew how this gentleman made his living. He was a creature of the night, a crook, a quack; but if anyone had heard of the Venus , then definitely he.
    Devlin folded his newspaper and took his coat. It had cost him an entire week and a tidy sum to make contact with Corbett, and now he sincerely hoped the man would actually show up at the appointed meeting place.
    The slush of old, melting snow on the streets of London dimmed by comparison to the pretty winter wonderland he had waded through in Essex on his visit to Langston’s widow. Over and over, Devlin’s mind returned to that morning in Langston’s study. He kept recalling that image of her face which had prompted him to return a second time.
    The desire to take that woman into his arms had been almost overpowering, and still he had refrained from it because the sight of her stirred something else, something much more powerful: his heart. She had touched his heart with her tear-soaked eyelashes, quivering lips, and silent desperation that enshrouded her like a thick woolen cloak. He hadn’t been able to bear the pain and suffering in her voice. He was deathly afraid he would meet the same fate his ancestors had.
    After all, he was Devlin Weston, Earl of Windham, and no Windham man before him had ever been lucky in love. To avoid making a fool of himself, he had long ago