The Prize

by Brenda Joyce

  “I rather expected that would be your answer. Now answer this. I cannot fathom why Hughes is so eager to send you to the north Atlantic. I know the two of you do not get along, but there must be more to this than an ancient dispute over a French actress. Do you have a clue?”

  “She was Hungarian,” Devlin said smoothly. Liverpool would know the truth about Virginia’s identity after the Carew ball, anyway, so he said, “Perhaps it is because my mistress is his cousin.”

  “I beg your pardon?” Liverpool gasped.

  Devlin shrugged. “I have taken up with a very engaging young woman, and I am afraid she is Eastleigh’s niece.”

  Liverpool stared, taken aback. “Devlin, have you no honor? That is despicable.”

  “I am afraid I have little honor, but I have answered your question.”

  Liverpool remained shocked. He stood, as did Devlin. “And Eastleigh allows this…trespass?”

  “Eastleigh has no choice, really.” Devlin shrugged.

  “This behavior is simply not acceptable,” Liverpool said firmly. “And you may not care, but as an officer of His Majesty’s navy, you are expected to be both honorable and a gentleman. Eastleigh will insist you marry her—as will I.”

  He stiffened, his heart lurching oddly. Will you marry her to salvage her reputation? Tyrell had demanded. But her freedom would surely be enough. If he had to, he would make certain she returned to Virginia, where her reputation would not be blemished. “When will my new orders be given?” he asked tersely, his thoughts shifting to Sweet Briar. Had it been sold? If so, Virginia would have no place to go.

  “In a week or two.”

  “She will be free when my tour commences,” he said. “But marriage is out of the question.”

  Liverpool looked at him, clearly stunned and appalled.

  “Is there anything else?” He suddenly hated himself. An honorable man would marry Virginia to make amends, but then, an honorable man would have never used her as he had in the first place.

  “I have never understood you,” Liverpool said heavily. “But you are a great officer, you have done your country one great service after another, and I have nothing but admiration and respect for your stepfather, Adare. Now I am at a complete loss. A senior officer of His Majesty’s navy, willfully destroying a woman of family and breeding—it is not to be had.”

  “I suggest you think to court-martial me when my tour is over. Just now you need me, James, once again.” Devlin bowed and walked out.

  VIRGINIA STARED AT HER reflection in an oval mirror. She was astonished that the seductive and beautiful creature she gazed upon was herself. It simply did not seem possible.

  “Oh, Miss Hughes,” the maid, Hannah, breathed. “Captain will never be able to look at another woman again after he sees you!”

  And staring at the slender woman in the low-cut tissue gown with its silver-velvet cap sleeves and sash, Virginia almost believed her. She turned to glance at her profile. Her breasts seemed voluptuous in the dress and she was acutely aware of her new undergarments, all sinfully black, sinfully sensuous, trimmed in ribbon and lace. She should feel like a whore, considering the underwear she wore, but she did not—she was too frightened of the evening to come, and all she could feel was a dreadful anxiety and a genuine faintness.

  “You are so elegant, Miss Hughes. How proud the captain will be,” Hannah murmured.

  At least she did not look like a whore—or like a mistress. She looked very regal and very rich. Virginia touched the beaded silver lace that ornamented her tightly coiled hair and looked far better than any turban or headdress. All that was missing was a necklace and earbobs. She did not dare complain.

  But how would she face an evening filled with the ton’s most elegant, most aristocratic ladies and gentlemen? How?

  “Virginia, we are late,” Devlin said.

  She glanced into the mirror and saw him pause in the open doorway. His eyes widened as he saw her, moved over the reflection of her face and dropped to her bosom. “Turn around,” he said softly.

  As ill with dread that she was, she understood the silver gleam in his eyes was one of appreciation. She obeyed, wanting to make light of the moment—and all the moments that would surely come during that evening. She curtsied. “I hope you approve of Madame Didier’s work,” she said with a forced smile.

  “I approve. I more than approve, Virginia, and you will be the most beautiful woman at Carew’s tonight.”

  She made a derisive sound.

  His mouth quirked. “You may leave,” he said to the maid. She nodded, eyes downcast, and fled. “Come here,” he said softly.

  It did not cross her frozen mind to disobey or even question why. She walked over to him. He smiled a little and reached up, and for one instant she thought he was going to take her face in his strong hands. Instead, he clipped an earring to each earlobe, turned her around, and placed a necklace about her neck. Virginia looked down, trying to see, and gasped at the sight of so many diamonds dangling about her throat. “What is this?”

  “Do you like it?” he asked, his hands moving to her shoulders.

  Virginia found herself facing the mirror, with Devlin standing behind her, his hands clasping her shoulders. Hundreds of diamonds, all cut like stars, dangled from the necklace in random sizes. One large pendant dangled from the center. The earbobs matched.

  Virginia swallowed. “Yes,” she managed, wondering when he had gotten the necklace and why. Surely it was only for her to use—surely it was not for her to keep. She could never ask.

  “Shall we?” he asked, releasing her and lifting her gray satin wrap and settling it about her shoulders.

  She nodded, inhaling harshly and beginning to tremble. If only, she managed to think, they were going somewhere else, as something other than man and mistress.

  “We will not stay too long,” he murmured as he guided her from the room, as if guessing her thoughts.

  One minute was too long. She wisely refrained from saying so.

  He gave her an odd look. “I promise this will soon be over, Virginia,” he said.

  THE CAREW MANSION RESEMBLED a palace. Situated on the outskirts of Greenwich, surrounded by hundreds of acres of both park and wood, the house could easily accommodate all three of Devlin’s homes. As Devlin’s carriage entered the square drive, passing a maze and a sculpture garden, Virginia saw that the line ahead consisted of the most elegant and grand coaches she had ever beheld and the dread congealed. As they waited their turn to alight, she asked, “How many guests will be present?”

  “Several hundred, I think,” Devlin replied.

  He did not speak again, sitting beside her, his long legs crossed, as dashing as ever in his uniform. Virginia was immobilized—it was hard to breathe. Devlin did not seem to notice. He appeared distracted, but what matter could so preoccupy him she did not know. His tension seemed to match her own—and it belied his bland facade.

  A half an hour later their carriage door was opened and a footman helped Virginia down, Devlin following. They started up the wide stone staircase that led to the open front door, following a dozen other parties.

  “Captain O’Neill, sir, how fine to see you again.”

  “Lord Arnold, Lady Arnold.” Devlin bowed to the smiling couple. “May I present my dear friend, Miss Virginia Hughes?”

  Virginia felt her cheeks flame as two pairs of interested eyes came her way. Lord Arnold was a portly man with a kind face, his wife of average looks and figure, her eyes bright and indicating a superior intelligence. Arnold bowed; his wife nodded. “A fine night for a ball, is it not, Miss Hughes?” He smiled.

  He had no clue yet as to her terrible status. Virginia nodded. “Very fine,” she managed. She glanced at his wife, but Lady Arnold simply regarded her keenly, not saying anything, a polite smile on her lips.

  They followed the Arnolds inside, Devlin and Arnold briefly discussing a motion recently passed in the Commons. Virginia gaped at the ceiling above—it was several stories high�
��and just beyond the huge front hall, she could see into an even larger, grander ballroom. There, a good two hundred guests were mingling already, and the room was alive with the jewel tones of the ladies’ gowns and the thousands of crystals shimmering in the overhead chandeliers.

  “So you are an American?” Lady Arnold said as they paused on the receiving line.

  Virginia started and swallowed. “Yes.” Knowing she flushed, she added, “We do not have balls like these at home.”

  “And where is your home, my dear?”

  “Virginia, my lady.” Virginia waited for the next terrible, inevitable question.

  “And how did you come to be in England?”

  Virginia wet her lips. “My parents died. My uncle is the Earl of Eastleigh and I came to spend some time with him.”

  “Oh, I am so sorry about your parents,” Lady Arnold said.

  Virginia thought that beneath her very bright eyes, she was kind. “Yes. Thank you.”

  “And Captain O’Neill? Is he a family friend?”

  Virginia hesitated. Should she get this over with? Would it not be better to do so, sooner rather than later?

  Lady Arnold said politely, “I do not mean to pry, of course, but I have never seen the captain in the company of a single woman.”

  She wet her lips. “He has been very kind. I am…staying at Waverly Hall.”

  Her brows lifted with mild interest. “Oh, yes, the home he purchased from your uncle. Is your family in residence there?”

  “I’m afraid not,” Virginia said. And she simply could not go through with it. “Excuse me, my lady, but the captain beckons.” And aware of some surprise, she hurried over to Devlin. His regard was searching.

  “I am afraid I may not play our charade well tonight,” she said tersely.

  “You need not play any charade, tonight, Virginia,” he said. “You need to merely be with me, at my side, until we leave.” His jaw flexed and he looked away, as if he could not meet her eyes. “My lord Carew.” He bowed, facing an older, heavyset gentleman. “May I present my dear friend, Miss Virginia Hughes?”

  VIRGINIA’S HEADACHE KNEW no bounds. She stood apart, watching the many dancers, having no recollection of the steps as the line of men and women formed and broke, partners circling and changing couples before meeting yet again. Devlin spoke with several men but a short distance away, and she knew from their repeated glances in her direction that these men distinctly understood her status in the world.

  She was miserable.

  “Would you like to dance?”

  She whirled and met Tyrell de Warenne’s smiling countenance. “My lord! I’m afraid I have forgotten the steps,” she confessed. Then she realized she had forgotten to curtsy and she hastily did so.

  He touched her, restraining her. “Please, Miss Hughes, I feel we know each other well enough to dispense with formality.”

  She was relieved. “You British are all so formal!” she explained. “It has been shocking, trying to adjust.”

  “Yes, I imagine so,” Tyrell said gently, with a benign smile. He held out his arm. “Shall we take a turn about the gallery?”

  She glanced at Devlin, who had turned to stare at them. “I doubt he will allow it. I have been insufficiently flaunted.”

  Tyrell’s smile vanished. “Virginia, may I speak freely?”

  She tensed. “Please do.”

  “My entire family is furious with Devlin for his behavior and his bringing you here is the least of it.”

  She gaped. And she was aware of Devlin leaving his group of gentlemen and striding calmly toward them. She was not deceived. She saw the purpose in his stride and sensed the determination, as well.

  “I merely want to advise you that there will be justice, Virginia. You will be shortly compensated for all you have been through, my father will see to it.”

  She had no idea of what he meant. Compensation? Suddenly she was seized by hope—would they aid her in paying off her father’s debts? That would surely be compensation for all she had been through!

  Devlin paused, taking Virginia’s arm. “Are you trying to lure away Virginia’s affections, Ty?”

  “As if I would ever trespass upon your affections, Devlin,” Tyrell said.

  Devlin nodded while Virginia ignored the exchange, too busy thinking about the compensation that would soon be hers. Finally it seemed as if her terrible turn of bad luck was about to change.

  “Shall we dance?” Devlin asked almost formally.

  She started. “I lied. I cannot dance, not a single step.”

  He finally smiled at her. And the warmth reached his eyes. “I find the whole pastime rather boring myself. Shall I get us some champagne?”

  She nodded, wishing he had suggested that they leave. She felt fortunate to have thus far escaped any unpleasant and humiliating encounters.

  Devlin nodded and walked away.

  Tyrell said, “As you are otherwise engaged, good evening. I hope we shall see each other soon.” He bowed.

  Virginia smiled, curtsied and watched him leave. And suddenly she was truly alone.

  It was an odd feeling, and not a pleasant one, to be surrounded by three hundred and fifty guests yet to be standing conspicuously by oneself. And she was conspicuous. With Devlin and Tyrell gone, several groups had turned to gaze at her and she had the distinct feeling that she might be the topic of conversation. One group of ladies stared and spoke rapidly, fans fluttering. Virginia felt certain that they were discussing her.

  She turned her back to them and was faced by three handsome gentlemen, and in unison, they all smiled at her. She took a step back.

  They approached. The nearest one, a gentleman of thirty or so with shocking red hair and extremely pale blue eyes, bowed. “I do not believe I have had the pleasure of making your acquaintance,” he said.

  She smiled, summoning up all of her courage now. “No, I do not think so. I am Virginia Hughes.”

  “John Marshall, at your service,” he said, with another, more cursory bow. “You are an American?”

  She nodded. “Yes. But I have come to England to visit my uncle, the Earl of Eastleigh.” That story had served her well and she decided to continue it.

  “So Eastleigh is your uncle?” Marshall seemed delighted. “And you are in Captain O’Neill’s party tonight?”

  She could not decide if he knew that she had accompanied Devlin alone. “Yes.” Her smile was fixed.

  “May I present my good friends, Lords Halsey and Ridgewood?”

  Virginia smiled and exchanged pleasantries as the men bowed. She felt as if she were surrounded by the enemy—which she most certainly was.

  “And how is it you have become acquainted with Great Britain’s greatest—and most notorious—war hero?” Ridgewood asked. He was tall and pale.

  “Oh, come, George, we all know O’Neill always takes the prettiest for himself.” Marshall laughed and the others joined in. But then, his smile not reaching his eyes, Marshall said, “It’s no secret O’Neill is quite at odds with your cousin, Tom Hughes. How interesting that you accompany your cousin’s bitter foe to this evening’s soirée.”

  Virginia shrugged helplessly.

  “Miss Hughes and Captain O’Neill are dear friends—I have heard it said so,” Halsey said with a grin. He jabbed Ridgewood with his elbow. “Very dear friends. You are residing at Waverly Hall, are you not?”

  “Yes,” Virginia managed, hating them all and hating Devlin, too. She could not do this anymore. She hadn’t won his friendship; the bargain worked only for him; she had had enough.

  “May I call on you, Miss Hughes? Tomorrow, perhaps?” Marshall asked, leaning far too close for comfort or civility.

  “Excuse me,” she cried, turning and rushing into the crowd.

  It was hard to see. The room was a blur of brilliant reds, blinding gold, purple, blue and green, with stark black evening clothes in between. But how could she see? Tears had interfered with her vision and she could not breathe. It was so damn
hot and airless in the ballroom…if only she could be transported across the ocean back to her Virginia home.

  There will be justice. You will shortly be compensated.

  Tyrell de Warenne’s singular statement brought some small measure of relief as she stumbled into the gallery outside of the ballroom. There, perhaps a dozen guests strolled. Virginia hurried down the gallery and turned the corner. Another gallery ran down the side of the house, barely lit with the occasional wall sconce. Most of the illumination came from a series of huge windows and the moon and stars outside. Thankful to finally be alone, she went to a window and leaned on the stone sill. Pain had seized her abdomen, cutting through it with the intensity of a butcher’s knife. She had to get away. She could not go on like this.

  They are dear friends—I have heard it said so.

  Virginia kept breathing until she was no longer panting, until some of the pain had lessened. If only she could hate him. She knew she should, but she simply could not.

  He is not a ruthless monster…but he is not kind. His ability to be kind died the day our father died.

  He is not indifferent. It is a sham, a pretense, a huge theatrical act.

  I am asking you to save my brother.

  Virginia cried out, because Devlin was beyond salvation and that had become terribly clear. Her stomach so hurt her again that she clutched herself, bending over.

  “If it isn’t my dear, dear, American cousin.”

  Virginia straightened, gasping with dread, and slowly, she turned.

  A naval officer, lean and handsome, faced her, smiling. He bowed. “Lord Captain Thomas Hughes,” he said. His smile remained in place and it did not reach his gleaming eyes. “How thrilled I am to finally make your acquaintance.”

  Virginia needed air. “My lord,” she said cautiously, glancing wildly around. But Devlin was nowhere to be seen.

  “You act afraid,” Tom Hughes purred. “But surely, my dear cousin, you are not afraid of me?”

  She simply could not speak. She sensed a terrible intent on her cousin’s part and backed up against the stone windowsill.