Chapter 17
“Miss Hughes? You have callers in the parlor,” Tompkins said.
Virginia had awoken that morning quite late, as it had taken her hours to still her mind and fall asleep, and the bedroom had been empty. It was now noon and she had been strolling the back lawns, finally pausing on the small terrace behind the house. She smiled at Tompkins. “Callers?”
“Yes,” he beamed back at her.
He was not at all like the horrid Mrs. Hill, whom Virginia had seen in passing that morning.
The housekeeper had made a remark that breakfast was taken between eight and nine, an explanation for the empty sideboard in the small dining room.
She had refused to look at Virginia, as if doing so might make her a mistress, too.
Virginia had ignored her growling belly, politely asking for some coffee, toast and chocolate.
A maid had brought her the requested refreshments, as it was clearly beneath Mrs. Hill to wait upon her master’s lover.
As they turned to the French doors, Virginia asked, “How long have you been at Wideacre, Tompkins?”
“Ten years, if I do say so myself,” he responded cheerfully.
“And you love it here?”
“Yes, I do. The missus died some time ago, my two daughters are married with children, one in Manchester, the other in a small village to the south, and Wideacre has become my home.” He shrugged a bit, his cheeks pink.
“You do a wonderful job,” Virginia assured him. They stepped into the parlor.
Devlin stood speaking to a country gentleman and his plump, pretty wife.
Virginia halted the instant she laid eyes on him and for one moment, she admired him in his fine brown frock coat and tan britches.
She had never seen him in a casual coat before.
It hardly made a difference; he remained such a stunning man.
He saw her and their gazes locked. She wondered if he had ever come up to their room last night; when she had finally fallen asleep, he had yet to return.
Their room. It was still almost impossible to believe, as was the state of her heart, now that she had admitted her worst fears and greatest dreams.
“Do come in, Virginia,” Devlin said, smiling. “Squire Pauley and his wife have been so kind as to call.”
Virginia hesitated, aware of the game they would now play. It had already begun, in fact, with his calling her by her given name so intimately. Both the bewhiskered squire and his blond wife were regarding her curiously, smiling. Virginia knew they did not yet know that she was a fallen woman.
She would change that. She smiled and swept forward, going right to Devlin, where she stood on tiptoe and kissed his cheek.
His skin was warm and smooth—he had clearly shaved recently.
Her heart leapt as she withdrew her mouth and she said, “Good morning, darling,” her voice husky without any effort on her part.
He started, but then, ever the better gamesman, he took her hand and lifted it to his mouth, pressing his lips firmly there. “You are ravishing, Virginia,” he murmured. “I see you slept late. No doubt you have deserved it.”
Their gazes held. “I was so tired I simply could not get up,” she breathed, and deciding to outdo him, she stroked his cheek, just once.
He started yet again. That gave her no satisfaction, however, as her heart was racing from the feigned intimacy. It was as if they were really lovers, and in that brief moment of pretense, it had felt as if they were alone.
“May I present Miss Virginia Hughes of Sweet Briar, Virginia,” Devlin said, looping her arm in his.
The squire and his wife were wide-eyed; now, quickly, they both smiled, at once. “How nice to make your acquaintance, Miss Hughes,” the squire said, his gaze shooting back and forth between them. Virginia knew he was trying to fathom their relationship.
“It is my pleasure,” Virginia said, as if she had been the most stellar student at the Marmott School. She extended her hand and he brushed the air above it with his lips. She turned to his wife. “Hello, Mrs. Pauley. Do you live far from here?”
“We live just a few miles away,” the blonde replied, attempting a smile and not quite succeeding.
“The captain tells us you have just arrived,” Squire Pauley said, tugging at his cravat.
“Yes, yesterday. I have spent the past five months at Devlin’s home in Ireland,” Virginia said, giving him a sidelong glance.
His brows lifted with amusement. He was clearly no longer surprised by her gamesmanship. “While I, alas, was patrolling the coast of Spain.” He sighed heavily as if he had yearned for her every day they were apart.
Mrs. Pauley’s cheeks were bright red. But she turned her blue eyes on Devlin then. “We have heard so much about you, Captain. You are a hero to us all.”
“Yes, sir,” her husband added. “We are so pleased that you have a home here now.”
“Thank you,” Devlin murmured.
“How long will you be in residence?” the squire asked.
“I think a week, certainly no more,” Devlin said.
Virginia was surprised. “Only a week, Devlin?” she asked softly.
He pulled her close. “Has my little country home grown on you the way that Askeaton has?”
She smiled up at him, acutely aware of the length of his body against her side. She was practically in his embrace, nestled against him and in the hard curve of one arm. It felt right. “I fear that it might…darling,” she said.
The squire coughed. Or perhaps he choked. Virginia glanced at him and saw his face had turned the color of beets.
“Are you…are you betrothed?” his wife managed, her expression mesmerized.
“Betrothed?” Devlin echoed. Virginia heard the disbelief in his tone and she inwardly stiffened, but she smiled and looked up at him. Devlin’s brows lifted. “I am afraid I am not a marrying man.”
The blonde stared. So did her husband.
Virginia broke the silence. “I am merely his mistress,” she announced boldly, and she felt Devlin stiffen with surprise.
“I believe Virginia meant she is a dear old friend,” Devlin murmured.
“Er, right,” the squire mumbled, now definitely choking on his words.
Virginia looked at him and she looked at his pretty wife.
Their shock and distress were evident. She also thought she knew their thoughts, racing through their heads.
She lives with him as his mistress? Good God, does she have no shame?
And as they turned their eyes upon her, she saw the disbelief and dismay turning to condemnation. She smiled bravely back.
For she truly did not care. Did she?
She slipped free of Devlin and walked over to a table to fiddle with some trinkets there.
She was not embarrassed and she was not dismayed, she told herself fiercely.
The stakes were too high now. This was only a game, a bargain made betwixt her and Devlin, and if she won, she would have her freedom and his love.
Nothing and no one else mattered.
Tompkins was wheeling in a tea cart piled high with miniature cakes. Virginia had the urge to rush outside for some fresh air. Thankfully, Devlin was breaking the increasingly strained silence. “I have heard there is a wonderful market every Sunday in the local village.”
“Oh, there is,” Mrs. Pauley cried, smiling widely in relief.
“You must go, Captain, really, for there are wonderful homemade pies, a dancing bear, pony rides for the children and one of our cabinetmakers always shows his wares. He makes the most intriguing chests, in all sizes, filled with dozens of hidden drawers! You should bring Miss Hughes—Virginia—I mean, Miss Hughes, as I am sure she would find it most entertaining!” she cried in a rush, her face flushed with her embarrassment.
Virginia wanted to flee. She felt miserable, but what was even worse was using these good and decent people, all to further Devlin’s obsessive scheme, and to so humiliate them. But she faced everyone, smiling. “I should love to go, darling.”
She realized that Devlin had turned away to examine a porcelain dish.
“You shall most enjoy it,” the squire said gamely. “Beth? I do think we must be on our way, as we have taken up enough of the good captain’s time.”
“Yes, of course,” Beth Pauley said, her gaze darting to Virginia with a mixture of fascination and horror.
Devlin came to life. He shook the squire’s hand. “Do come again,” he said politely, and Virginia had no idea if he meant it or not. “Mrs. Pauley, it was a pleasure,” he said, so gallantly that Virginia gaped.
Mrs. Pauley flushed, but with pleasure, and Virginia knew she was smitten. “Do come to the fair, Captain,” she said, her eyes soft and glowing.
“We shall make every attempt,” he returned. Then he faced the door, where Tompkins somehow magically stood. “Do escort the squire and his wife out. Good day.”
Virginia had plastered a smile on her face. She watched the couple hurry out. Devlin strolled to the door and closed it so that they were alone. He faced her, no longer smiling, his expression strained.
He stared speculatively. “You are a good player, Virginia.”
“But?”
“But as I said last night, you are forever outspoken.”
She did not want to be berated now. “You like my outspoken ways. You said so.”
“You are my dear good friend, Virginia, not my mistress. This is polite society, not a gaming hall. You almost gave the squire an apoplexy.” He turned abruptly away.
It was almost as if he did not like his own rules. “I’m sorry, I had no idea I was to mince words. Will you excuse me, Devlin? I didn’t sleep well last night and I think I am going to lie down.” She avoided his eyes.
He didn’t answer, as he was avoiding looking at her, too.
That was fine and she went to the door, trying not to hurry, though she was so upset she had to flee so she could rationalize away her distress and boldly continue their game. His words halted her in her tracks. “We leave for my Greenwich home tomorrow,” he said.
Now what? she wondered, her heart tight with worry. She shrugged, not looking back.