Part 15 (2/2)
Fiona stiffened. ”Be right up.” But she didn't move.
”And I'd like some roses from the gardens,” Virginia added, increasing her intonation, so she sounded more like a queen than a genteel young lady. ”Oh! This gown. Do help me remove it. It needs pressing immediately. I'd like it back for supper, please.”
Fiona looked ready to scratch her eyes out. ”Are you to be his wife?” she asked with scalding anger.
Virginia started, then, indifferently, she shrugged. His wife. One day, Devlin O'Neill would settle down, take a wife, have children. Why did this notion mesmerize her? When that day dawned, she would be home at Sweet Briar, in fact, she might even be old and gray.
The confusion that had so recently begun and that seemed to crop up now whenever she thought about her captor swept over her with full force. She finally looked up. ”Perhaps,” she managed to say lightly.
Fiona started, scowling.
”And you? Were you his mistress? I thought so at first-but he didn't recognize you, so I am no longer sure.”
Fiona stalked forward.
Virginia held her ground, even though the other woman had a stone or more on her.
”He hasn't been home in six years,” she hissed. ”I was a child back then, I was only fifteen but I loved him and I gave him my maidenhead. I'm a woman now, and I know a trick or two I am certain he will enjoy! In fact, I cannot wait until tonight, my lady, I cannot wait to pleasure him in every way I can think of! By tomorrow he will not even know your name.”
Virginia stiffened, afraid the other woman might be right. But now she had to wonder what kind of man stayed away from his home for six long years?
And Virginia began to worry on another score. Devlin had been eighteen, she thought, when he and Fiona had carried on, and she hated the fact that he had been her first lover. Nostalgia might be attached to their affair.
”How old are you?” Fiona asked with scorn.
”I'm twenty,” Virginia lied.
Fiona rolled her eyes. ”I'd wager you're sixteen. Let me tell you something, my lady. He won't ever look at you the way he looks at me. You're too skinny! A man likes meat on the bones, a man likes this.” She cupped her heavy b.r.e.a.s.t.s and then she smiled, sighing and clearly thinking of Devlin fondling them instead.
Virginia turned her back on the housemaid. Her confidence, never high, vanished completely. Who was she fooling? If Devlin had a choice, he would seek out the older woman. She had no doubt.
She should be thrilled. She wasn't. She was upset, distressed, bewildered and even hurt by the prospect.
Fiona laughed at her distress. ”So set them eyes somewhere else, my fancy lady,” she hissed. ”Here at Askeaton we got no use for the English and them royal airs. Here at Askeaton we got no use for you and your kind. Go back to where you came from!” Fiona left the room triumphantly.
Virginia ran after her. ”I'm American, you fool. I'm American, not Englis.h.!.+”
But if Fiona cared, she gave no sign. She never faltered as she hurried down the hall.
Virginia stepped back into her room, closing the door. Too late, she realized Fiona hadn't helped her undress, she hadn't taken her awfully soiled gown and she hadn't intended to bring water, refreshments, flowers or anything else.
Virginia took a small chair and pulled it up to the window. There she sat in dismal silence, staring out at the countryside, thinking about her captor.
DEVLIN POURED TWO WHISKEYS. Sean faced him with dark, angry eyes. Devlin handed him a gla.s.s, ignoring his brother now, his gaze moving around the library, then to the French doors and the terrace beyond. He relished the view, the moment. G.o.d, it was good to be home.
Gerald smiled conspiratorially at him. ”Don't breathe a word of this to your mother, you hear?”
Devlin walked toward the French doors, no longer smiling, drinking instead.
His father's eyes, wide and angry, staring up at him from the b.l.o.o.d.y stump that was his head.
”Are you going to explain? Is she Eastleigh's daughter? It isn't enough that you bed his wife?” Sean demanded furiously.
He saluted Sean, forcing the brutal memories aside. ”She's his niece. His orphaned American niece.” He had expected Sean to be outraged, but that did not mean he liked it.
”So that explains everything. What the h.e.l.l are you doing!” Sean cried. ”And how old is she? Have you seduced a child?” He was disbelieving.
He studied the contents of his gla.s.s as if indifferent. ”She's eighteen, and no, I haven't seduced her,” he said, wondering how his righteous and oh, so moral brother would react if he told him that she might well decide to seduce him. ”I'm ransoming her, Sean.” He smiled, real mirth returning. ”Eastleigh is on the verge of debtor's prison. He can ill afford a ransom, much less the one I will demand.” He actually chuckled. ”I shall, of course, toy with him a bit first. However, to free his niece he may very well have to sell off Eastleigh itself. This may be the moment we have been waiting for.”
”And vengeance is mine, said the lord,” Sean said harshly. ”Vengeance belongs to G.o.d, not you, and this moment you have been waiting for-not I!” He slammed his drink down, untouched.
”You may not share my enthusiasm, but I am doing this for you as much as for myself,” Devlin said. He pushed open the door and inhaled the clean, floral and gra.s.s-scented Irish spring. He did not want to debate Sean on the merits of his revenge against the Earl of Eastleigh. The subject was an old and tired one. It came up every time he saw his brother, once or twice a year, depending on how often they met in London or Dublin.
”You do this only for yourself. G.o.d, when will you let our father rest in peace?” Sean cried. Then he added, ”Thank G.o.d Mother and Adare are in London!”
Devlin turned, his temper igniting. ”Gerald will never rest in peace and you know it. As for our mother, she doesn't need to know about this.”
Sean stared. ”If his spirit wanders, it is because you will not allow him peace! Dear G.o.d, you have destroyed the man financially, when will you stop? When will you let go of this obsession and find some peace of your own?”
”Perhaps, if your memory served you as well as mine did me, you would be as bent upon revenge as I am,” he said coldly.
Sean's own silver gaze chilled. ”Do you think I don't wish that I could remember that day? You speak as if you think I willed my memory loss! I do not know why my mind has failed me so, but do not accuse me of complaisance when it comes to the fact that I cannot remember anything of that terrible day our father was murdered!”
”I'm sorry,” Devlin said, but sometimes he resented the fact that he alone was the one haunted by Gerald, for neither his brother nor his mother seemed to suffer as he did.
”And what of the navy? Is the Admiralty going to let you get away with this, the abduction of an American woman, an attack upon the English aristocracy?” Sean demanded.
”Eastleigh will never allow word of this abduction to come out. He already plays the fool and his pride will ultimately make him pay for Virginia's freedom. I feel certain no one will ever know about this little game, other than ourselves.”
”Little game? You abuse an innocent young woman and it is a little game? Father must be turning over in his grave right now. You have gone too far!” Sean cried. ”And what about Miss Hughes herself? If she goes to the authorities, you could lose your head! And I do not speak figuratively now.”
Devlin laid his hand on Sean's rigid shoulder. ”I have no intention of losing my head, Sean,” he said softly.
”You think you are invincible. You are not.”
”Trust my instincts. Eastleigh will conclude this affair swiftly. His pride is all he has left.”
Sean stared, his expression harsh and agonized. ”I don't approve, Devlin. I simply cannot. G.o.d, I don't even know who you are,” Sean suddenly despaired, ”and frankly, I never have.”
”I'm your brother.”
”Yes, my brother. A stranger whom I never see, as you clearly abhor the soil and the earth-as you cannot spend a fortnight on land, it seems. You are a stranger with a pa.s.sion for vengeance and little else. I pity you, Devlin.”
Devlin made a mocking sound, although his brother's words made him very uncomfortable. ”You should save your pity for one who needs it-perhaps the beautiful Miss Hughes?”
Sean did not flinch. ”I won't deny I find her attractive beyond comparison. I only hope she does not need my pity, ever, Dev.”
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