by Brenda Joyce
“Yes,” he said, walking abreast of her but staring past her, at the house.
Alarm began. Virginia walked with him, staring at his hard profile, a profile incredibly similar to Devlin’s. He seemed sunburned—either that or he was flushed. And it was clear he did not want to look at her.
She swallowed, her first thought being that he somehow knew of the affair last night. But she quickly reassured herself that he could not know. Her bedroom was in one wing, his in the other. But his behavior was so different. He was grim and subdued instead of cheerful and loquacious. “Is everything all right?” she asked cautiously.
“Yes.” He finally glanced at her. Then his gaze slammed to her mouth and away.
Virginia’s mouth was bruised, her lips were swollen, and she felt certain he not only saw, but understood completely.
She did not want him to know about her fall from grace. “Have you seen Devlin?” she asked, and to her horror, her voice sounded far too high and on the verge of hysteria.
“Yes.” Sean seemed angry now. His strides increased, leaving Virginia behind.
She had to run to catch up. “He doesn’t seem to be in the house and—”
“He’s not here.”
She halted. “What?”
Ahead of her, Sean did not pause. “He’s gone.”
Her mind froze over. She croaked, “Gone?”
Sean suddenly turned, the action violent. “He left. He’s not here,” he said, his face mottled with a red flush.
She swallowed hard. “What do you mean, Sean?” How hard it was to get the words out. But she somehow knew.
His furious gaze clashed with hers. “He went to London this morning.”
Virginia cried out. And for one moment, her world grayed, darkened, became black.
And when her vision cleared, she was in Sean’s arms, and he was peering worriedly at her. She started to push him weakly away.
He didn’t allow it, holding her upright on her feet, a strong arm braced behind her back. “You were about to faint.”
She met his gaze, aware that hers was brimming with tears. “He went to London?”
Sean nodded, his expression very grim, his gaze dark with anguish.
And her heart cracked open. Again and again, until it bled, raw. He had left. He hadn’t said goodbye. He hadn’t cared enough to say goodbye. He was gone. “Is he coming back?” she whispered.
“I don’t know,” Sean said. “He said he will send word.”
She stared, her body shaking, her mouth trembling. The eighteen-year-old woman was gone. A tiny child was left in her place, broken and bewildered, abandoned and alone and so very afraid.
“I’m sorry,” Sean suddenly cried. “I could kill him with my bare hands, my own brother, a monster I do not understand!”
She cried out, fighting tears now, refusing to weep. He simply did not care that they had made love. He was gone.
“I know what he did to you, Virginia. I am so sorry.”
She met Sean’s gray eyes, eyes that were so like his brother’s except that they mirrored compassion and regret and even guilt. He was holding her hands tightly.
“You know?” she whispered, tears seeping.
He nodded. “I saw him last night. It was obvious. But your secret is safe here.”
She closed her eyes and shrugged. “I don’t care. It’s better this way. If Eastleigh thinks to marry me off to some stranger, now I can simply tell the truth about what happened and no one will have me.” But she did care. She was in pain, terrible pain, and she had to go away, she had to be alone.
“Don’t do this to yourself. This was not your fault. You are young and inexperienced, a perfect target for someone like Devlin. How could a girl like yourself resist my brother’s seduction?” His laughter was harsh. “It is times like these that I detest him. He is better off gone and we should hope he never returns.”
“You don’t mean that,” she managed.
“I feel that way now, as I have all night. The truth is, he is my brother, he would give his life for me, and I do love him. But I will never forgive him for this.” Sean’s eyes were as dark as a stormy sea.
The immense betrayal struck her again. He was gone. He had taken her innocence, and now, he had left. He didn’t care. Not about anyone, not about anything. He was a monster, not a man. “I have to sit down,” Virginia choked. “My knees are oddly weak and I cannot see.”
“You appear as if you will faint again,” Sean said grimly, sweeping her into his arms. He carried her to the house.
Virginia had no will to resist. It was too late to do anything about it, but she realized her heart was broken because she had, stupidly, fallen in love with a terrible man.
VIRGINIA LOST TRACK OF THE DAYS. It began to rain, more often than not. Sean gave her free rein and she spent her mornings on horseback while the sky remained clear. Her afternoons were spent wandering the house or reading one of the many books she found in the library. Sean went out of his way to avoid her when once he had been so gallant, amiable and kind. He was courteous when their paths happened to cross, but distant, as if a stranger. Virginia took her supper on a tray in her bedroom.
She thought about escape and made the attempt one single time. She found some coins in Sean’s bedroom, where she dared to trespass. Dressed as a boy, she took the bay mare and set out for Wexford, some hundred miles to the east. It was another gray, rainy day. She had expected to be able to find her way quite easily, but at the first crossroads, she was at a loss, for there was no sign. The choice was north or south, and Wexford lay directly east. She surmised she should go right, which was north. Many hours later she realized she was heading directly north, deep into the heart of Ireland, and that somehow, she was lost. She was also soaking wet and freezing cold, enough so to think about turning around and going back. And the little mare was tired and beginning to falter. But she didn’t have to turn back. Late that afternoon Virginia paused at a roadside inn to ask for directions, which only confirmed that she was far off her course. And that was when Sean appeared on a black charger, frantic and furious. But instead of shouting at her, he didn’t say a word. He booked two rooms and Virginia was given a hot bath, clean dry clothes and a hearty meal. The next day they returned to Askeaton, riding the entire way in terse silence.
And when the manor lay in sight, Sean pulled his steed to a halt. Virginia halted also and their gazes locked. “I want your word,” he said fiercely. “Give me your word you will not attempt another escape. If you do not, I will have to put you under lock and key.”
This was their first real conversation since the day Devlin had left. “I don’t understand,” Virginia said slowly. “You have said repeatedly that you disapprove of what your brother is doing, yet you will not look the other way so I can escape?”
He was grim. “I more than disapprove. But I swore to Devlin I would keep you safe at Askeaton and I will.”
“You don’t have the backbone to go up against him,” she said.
His expression hardened and his eyes flashed. “He wants us to marry.”
Virginia choked. Surely she had misheard, hadn’t she? But the walls of her world, already so fragile, crumbled then and there. “What!”
“He thinks it would be best, in the end, after the ransom, if we wed,” Sean said.
Virginia could not absorb the words, the notion. She spurred the mare into a gallop, racing for the manor and the surrounding barns, reeling from the blow. She was to be handed off to his brother. He had used her once and now he thought to cast her off to Sean.
At the house she dismounted, handing the mare over to a groom. Sean galloped up to her and slid off his horse. “I know. It’s inexplicable.”
“Stay away from me,” she warned, striding toward the house. She felt as if she had been punched in the chest. She couldn’t breathe and a red haze had formed over her eyes. Pain and anger blurred, impossible to separate.
If she hadn’t hated him before, she hated him now.
She could not wait to be ransomed.
That night, Sean came to her room. Standing in the hallway, he politely asked her if she would come downstairs to dine. Virginia stared at him from the sanctuary of her bedroom, clinging to the open door. He looked grim, an expression now characteristic for him, and he also seemed torn. “Don’t do this,” she said.
“I’m not doing anything. But after what he did, I treated you intolerably. I want to start over. I am not the enemy, Virginia. The truth is, I am your friend.”
She hugged herself. Their gazes locked. “Why did you turn away from me when I was so broken—when I needed a friend?” she whispered.
He hesitated. “Because it hurt me, too.”
It was a moment before she thought she understood. Was Sean saying that he had feelings for her, and that Devlin’s seduction had made it impossible for him?
He smiled gently. “I think it’s time we had a truce. Besides, it’s damned lonely in that dining room, night after night. I miss your amusing stories.”
She was touched. She plucked his sleeve. “I’m sorry, too. It’s not you I hate.”
“I know.”
Weeks passed into a month, then two. She dined with Sean every evening, and within a few weeks, the tension had disappeared and it was almost as if his brother had never done what he had. Virginia began to look forward to each evening when they would share a fine supper, good wine and never run out of conversation. Sean worked hard managing the estate, and during those evenings, his discourse would include the problems he had encountered and the triumphs, great and small. Virginia quickly learned all about the Corn Laws and how they had saved Ireland; by the month’s end she knew as much about that crop as she did about tobacco. Frequently their conversation became political. Liverpool, a man who Sean apparently thought a great deal of, had formed a new cabinet and was now prime minister. In mid-August they both read the Dublin Times, learning that the United States had declared war on Great Britain in June, even though the Orders in Council had been repealed. British forces had taken Mackinac, a small settlement in the northwest, and a British squadron had captured the USS Nautilus.
Virginia was stunned. “How can your country think to reduce us to colonial status again?” she cried.
“We hardly think to reduce the United States to being our colonies again,” Sean had replied. “We did not want this war—our hands are full in Europe. Your war hawks are responsible for this, Virginia.”
Virginia knew something about American politics but little about war hawks. “My father was a very intelligent man and he said repeatedly that Britain has no respect for our rights, that she wishes to regain her status as a mother country and she will never allow us free trade! How many American ships were seized like the Americana by your navy? How many Americans like myself were abducted off of those ships—and impressed? Do you have any idea how much income your country has cost us due to your restrictive trade policies?” she challenged. And she could recall her father making the very same arguments over supper at Sweet Briar.
“Unfortunately you wish to feed and clothe Napoleon and his armies, Virginia,” Sean said calmly. “And that cannot be allowed.”
In the end, neither of them won the debate and a truce was called, but now news of the war was avidly followed by them both. An Indian massacre of the American Fort Dearborn followed, as did the British capture of Detroit. This new war, so insignificant to the British and so important to the United States, was not going well for the Americans.
There was no word from Devlin, not a single letter. If a ransom was in progress, he was not keeping them informed.
One evening, Sean suggested that she might enjoy riding out with him to inspect the holdings of some tenants, and she accepted. They toured two tenancies not far from Limerick, took supper there, and the next day, she went with him for the first harvest. She began to join him on a daily basis. Their friendship blossomed.
She almost forgot he had a brother. It seemed to be true after all, that time healed all wounds, and now she managed not to think about Devlin O’Neill. Somehow, she had buried him in some deep dark place and it was almost as if he did not exist—except that, deep in her heart, she knew he was the one man she would never forget.
Toward the middle of September the last days of summer turned hot and humid. Virginia came down for supper one night and heard unfamiliar voices in the front hall. Her steps slowed as she realized that both a man and woman were present, chatting amiably with Sean. From his light tone, she could tell that he was happy. Very curious as to whom their first visitors were, she paused before going in.
Immediately, her eyes were drawn to a tall, dark man with swarthy skin and the bearing of someone with great power. Her gaze veered to a tall woman with sun-gold hair, a lush figure and an elegant bearing. Virginia’s heart skipped, for she recognized this woman immediately. Devlin O’Neill looked so much like her in feature and coloring that there was simply no doubt that this was his mother.
Which meant that the tall, dark man with her had to be the Earl of Adare, Edward de Warenne.
Virginia thought about fleeing before anyone saw her, then pleading a headache, as she felt certain they had come to dine, but it was too late.
“Virginia.” Sean had seen her and he smiled widely. His gray eyes were sparkling. “Come meet my parents, Lady Mary de Warenne and my stepfather, Lord Adare.”
The couple turned simultaneously and Virginia met two piercing stares. For one moment, she felt certain that she was being thoroughly inspected. Slowly, she came forward, filled with unease and dread.
But Mary smiled. “Hello, child. We returned from London yesterday and as soon as we heard the news, we rushed over.”
Virginia actually curtsied. “My lady.”
“Leave it to Devlin not to say a bloody word,” Adare said darkly, staring closely at her.
Virginia looked at Sean in confusion. He seemed bewildered, as well. “How is Devlin?” he asked dryly.
“He was up to his neck in a ruckus of his own causing,” Adare said grimly. “He was once again accused of disobeying direct orders—rumor has it he attacked an American ship.”
“What happened?” Sean asked grimly.
“There was a hearing arranged by Admiral Farnham with the clever help of Tom Hughes. Devlin, however, claimed to have come to the aid of a foundering American merchantman, insisting he attacked no American ship. Several of his men testified that this was true. The ship, the Americana, was apparently lost in a gale and there were no survivors. Farnham was outvoted two to one by St. John and Keeting—the motion for a court-martial dismissed.”
Sean was pale. “Christ.”
Adare held up his hand. “He is on probation and he was sent to escort a convoy to Spain. My son has nine lives—and he’s used up ten.”
Virginia was perspiring heavily. There was an explanation now for Devlin’s prolonged absence. She would not defend his behavior—for look at how cleverly he had lied to his own admirals!—but somewhere, in a tiny corner of her heart, she was relieved to know that even if he had wanted to return to Askeaton, he could not. She bit her lip hard, then gave up. “Is he returning here at any time soon?” she asked nervously.
“I wouldn’t know,” the earl said, his tone kind.
Mary beamed at her. “Why, I should hope so! Or does he expect his brother to keep you company while he sails the world?”
Virginia became very uneasy.
“Congratulations, my dear,” Mary said, grasping both of her hands. “I am so happy for you both.”
“Wh-what?”
Sean echoed her exactly.
Adare smiled. “We are both happy—and relieved, I might add, as this is the last bit of news either of us ever expected.”
Virginia had a bad feeling, oh yes. She glanced at Sean, seeking help.
He co
ughed.
“How on earth did you two meet?” Mary asked, putting her arm around her.
Virginia could not think of an intelligent answer. And she was referring to Devlin—wasn’t she?
Adare clapped his hand on Sean’s shoulder. “Being as Devlin was not kind enough to inform us of the upcoming nuptials, I will ask you. When is the wedding? Has anything been planned? You know your mother would love to help plan the event.”
“The wedding,” Sean said cautiously, his cheeks red.
“Yes, Devlin’s wedding. The first thing we heard when we got home was the news that Devlin is engaged. The moment we stepped off our ship at Limerick, the mayor was congratulating us—as was every squire and merchant.” Adare now stared closely at Sean. “What is amiss, Sean? You seem upset.”
Sean and Virginia looked at each other helplessly.
Mary now ceased smiling. “Is something wrong?” She turned to her son. “Sean?”
Virginia spoke, as he seemed incapable of it. Her mouth somehow formed the painful words. “I am sorry. I am not Devlin’s fiancée. There has been a terrible misunderstanding.”
“I don’t understand.” Mary was pale.
“Well, this would certainly explain why Devlin did not say a word to us when we saw him in London.” Adare was grim and displeased. “I am afraid to ask, then, what this is about. You are Devlin’s guest? “His gaze narrowed. “We have not been properly introduced.”
Virginia did not want to upset Mary de Warenne, but there was no choice. “I am not a guest here,” she said.
“I don’t understand,” Mary whispered.
“You are not a guest,” Adare said slowly. He turned to Sean. “Is she your wife?”
He flushed crimson. “No. Father, perhaps you should sit down.”
“I have a very bad feeling. Out with it!” Adare said, and it was a command.
Sean murmured, “Virginia is the Earl of Eastleigh’s niece.”
A terrible silence fell.
VIRGINIA STARED OUT THE FRENCH doors, which were open, due to the weather, and watched the earl embracing his wife. Mary was crying. She felt Sean come to stand behind her and a moment later she felt his hand cover her shoulder. She turned to face him.