Chapter 8 #3
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 glass, 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. God, 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 bloody 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 hell are you doing!” Sean cried. “And how old is she? Have you seduced a child?” He was disbelieving.
He studied the contents of his glass 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 God, 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 grass-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. God, when will you let our father rest in peace?” Sean cried. Then he added, “Thank God 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 God, 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. God, 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 passion 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.”
“When you become more acquainted with Miss Hughes, you will discover that she is not the kind of woman to be pitied.” He almost smiled, thinking of her courage and her absurdly independent nature.
A silence fell.
Devlin turned and found Sean staring, his gaze wide and searching. He said, “You almost sound fond of her.”
He actually hesitated. “I am hardly fond of her, Sean. But frankly, her courage is amazing—reckless though it may be.”
“So you admire her, then,” Sean said quietly.
Devlin became impatient. “Enough of Miss Hughes! The subject grows tiresome. When Eastleigh pays her ransom, she goes back. Until then, she is our guest.” He stressed the plural pronoun deliberately and stared.
He softly added, “Your loyalty to me does precede your noble sense of honor and your disapproval, does it not?”
Sean folded his arms across his chest, staring grimly in displeasure.
“Sean?”
He spoke roughly. “You know I would never betray you, in spite of my outrage over what you think to do.”
Satisfied, Devlin stalked back to the silver tray of decanters and glasses on the sideboard, pouring himself another, far stiffer drink. The silence lengthened. He finally sighed and glanced up. “All right. What is it? What is it that you wish to say?”
“If Eastleigh is so impoverished, what makes you think he will even wish to pay a ransom for his distant American niece, someone he has probably never seen and does not care for?”
Devlin stared. “He’ll pay.”
“And if he doesn’t?” Sean prodded.
Devlin felt his entire being tense. “Then I will have to provoke him publicly until he has no choice but to rescue our little guest, until it becomes a matter of honor.”
“To destroy Eastleigh, you will have to destroy her, will you not? How can you live with yourself?” Sean cried.
“Rather easily,” Devlin said, but even he knew there was nothing simple about his life and that his answer was a lie.
“You bastard,” Sean said.