Chapter 18
Devlin paced the dining room, stiff with tension. He glanced at his watch fob—it was well past seven. He glanced at the door, but Virginia did not appear there.
The table was set with crystal, fine china and gilded tableware, all brought from his ship. Covered platters steamed between the candelabra. Virginia was late.
She was avoiding him.
She had been avoiding him for three days, ever since Elizabeth’s visit, but that was for the best, as it was becoming harder and harder to trust himself around her.
It was becoming harder and harder to use her callously as an instrument of revenge.
He knew damned well their bargain and her charade was taking a huge toll upon her.
He was sorry, when he did not want to be, and it would be easier in London.
He had only to recollect her teasing humor, or her sincere desire for friendship, her passion or her outrage, to sorely wish to set her free.
If he set her free, all temptation would be gone.
Those men made me feel like a whore.
Guilt shackled him now. It was an emotion he was rarely visited with. He had wished to throttle Aston and pummel Jayson, instead, he had somehow played the game. Now, Gerald’s sightless eyes seemed to be accusing him of perfidy instead of begging him for justice.
His temples throbbed. He paced to the terrace doors, rubbing his neck, as if that might remove the turmoil and tension from his body, his being, his mind.
Gerald’s accusing gaze turned into Virginia’s huge eyes, as accusing, and then they became wide with hurt, an expression he had come to know so well.
He truly wished she had not come home to meet Elizabeth.
He wished he could have spared her that afternoon.
But she had thought to befriend and comfort Elizabeth. She was the most unpredictable woman he had ever met. She was also the kindest and most sincere.
She lay naked in the bath: small perfect breasts, long, slender legs and in between, an intriguing cleavage covered by dark curls.
He knew that Virginia had no clue of how difficult it was, living with her like this. She did not know that he slept in the library, only coming to his makeshift bed just before dawn. He had let the servants think he suffered from insomnia and worked into the wee hours of the night.
He finally bounded up the stairs. Guilt continued to assail him.
His path of revenge, once smooth, had become a twisting rocky road.
He was doing what he had to do, what his father would want him to do—he was fulfilling his duty as Gerald O’Neill’s son.
There was simply no other choice, not for him.
His life was meant to be one of hatred and revenge.
Sean was the one entitled to family and love.
He stumbled on the steps. What in God’s name was he thinking? Family and love? Those concepts had naught to do with him and they never would.
He did not feel reassured. Elizabeth’s soft, tearful words echoed in his mind, her advice to Virginia. Don’t fall in love with him. He will never love you back.
He genuinely hoped that Virginia heeded her advice.
He debated knocking, thought about catching her in her bath, and as relish replaced the guilt, he walked in unannounced. But Virginia lay in bed in her childish nightgown and wrapper, reading a book.
She smiled a little at him. It was forlorn. “I’m sorry. I am not joining you for supper. I’m afraid I have no appetite.” Apparently she was no longer furious with him.
He paused at the foot of the bed. The gown might be childish, but he knew every inch of the perfect body that lay beneath, a body that belonged to a woman. “Are you ill?”
“No.” She carefully closed the book. “You never loved her, did you?”
He hardly wished to discuss Elizabeth with her now. “No.”
“Was she also a part of your revenge?”
“Yes.” He felt himself grimace.
She inhaled, paling. “That’s disgusting, Devlin, horrid and disgusting.”
“Is it?” He grew angry then. “She enjoyed every moment in my bed. There was no pretense, no insincerity, no promise on my part! She dared to cross the line—a line I made clear—she dared to fall in love. I am sorry she did, I am sorry if I hurt her, but I do not apologize for what I did. Eastleigh deserves everything I can do and more!”
“Then why don’t you simply murder him, as two wrongs make a right, and end this stupidity once and for all!” she cried, sitting up straighter. Her small bosom rose and fell and her cheeks flushed.
“I thought about it,” he said, hoping to shock her, and he knew he did. “But a long time ago I decided death was too good for him.”
“So you think to make him suffer.” She shook her head as if she could not fathom it, him. “Please tell me that you genuinely feel guilty for using Elizabeth the way that you did.”
“But I don’t. I was not her first lover, Virginia, I was not her first adulterous affair.
She wanted my attentions and made that abundantly clear.
It was little different from our bargain, Virginia.
” He knew he glowered at her. It was becoming harder and harder to play poker with her as he did with the rest of the world.
Virginia somehow triggered reactions in him—and feelings—that no one else could.
That was distinctly disturbing.
“It was vastly different because you knew she had feelings, and dear God, it’s been six years. You made love to that woman for six years!” she cried, two pinks spots coloring her cheeks.
“I never made love to her or anyone,” he said, and the moment he spoke, he was ashamed.
She was pale and she lifted her chin and held her head high. “Of course you haven’t,” she whispered.
He knew he had wounded her and he hated it.
He hated that fact and the fact that he had been the one to take her innocence and teach her passion, and he hated that she had to be so vulnerable now.
But what he hated most was that she wanted him to make love to her and he knew it beyond any doubt.
But love was not for him. And what he also hated as passionately was that she had somehow made him even think this last, terrible thought.
“Virginia, we have a bargain, my friendship for your charade.”
She stared.
“Do not think of asking for something more, something I cannot—will not—ever give,” he warned her now, deliberate and purposeful. He gripped the footboard with one hand. His knuckles turned white.
“I only asked you for your friendship, Devlin. You are deluded if you think I want more than that. I mean, what more could I possibly—sanely—want from a man who has abducted and imprisoned me?”
Her pride had always impressed him. Now it also relieved him. “Tomorrow we are going to London,” he began.
“No. I beg to point out a fact. You have been so busy parading me about as your mistress that you have failed utterly to be any kind of friend. Sharing supper does not count as friendship, especially when you brood over your wine and glower at the food.”
He started, then controlled the smile that wanted to come to his face. “You are right,” he said, relieved now and surprising them both.
“You admit this has been quite a one-sided bargain?”
“I do.”
Her eyes widened and her face softened and a sparkle appeared in her eyes. “So what are you going to do about it, Captain?” she teased.
His heart leapt strangely. “When we get to London, I will take you shopping, to a fair, to the theatre, perhaps even to the racetrack, and we will rectify this vast injustice,” he said, feeling himself smiling back. And it felt so good to be sharing a moment of humor with her.
She grinned, and it was like the sunshine emerging from the gray Irish sky. “Well, it’s about time,” she said.
He hesitated. “Are you certain you will not come down and dine with me?” he asked softly, and oddly, her answer mattered very much.
She became still. Then, her mouth pursed, she nodded. “Give me a few minutes to dress.”
He left, pleased.
London. Virginia had seen drawings and sketches and there had been the stories told to her by her father.
She had always dreamed of one day visiting that city.
They had arrived within hours of leaving Southampton and they had departed at dawn.
Now Virginia clutched the windowsill of the carriage, trembling with excitement as their coach took them through the city toward Greenwich, where Devlin kept a home on the river.
She could not keep her gaze from every sight and scene.
She had never seen so many fine vehicles and conveyances, so many well-dressed gentlemen, so many stunning ladies.
The street they traveled on boasted fine shops and gracious hotels, the occasional theatre and park.
Virginia craned her head to look twice at a lady in a shocking pink ensemble—pink boa, pink parasol.
She turned to face Devlin and asked breathlessly, “Did I just see a harlot?”
“Or someone’s very bold mistress,” he said with a smile.
His smile was easy and genuine and it made her heart tighten as she automatically smiled back.
She reminded herself that he had used the countess shamelessly and callously, while that poor woman was in love with him, but her internal meandering had no effect.
She sighed and faced the street again. Now they passed a series of stately and gracious mansions, all with perfectly manicured lawns, rose gardens and stone statues and water fountains.
Virginia smiled and shook her head. “One would think the wealth of the entire world resides here,” she said.
“A significant portion of it does,” Devlin returned. “But there is also terrible squalor. I would never drive you through the human misery that exists side by side with the opulence you are now witnessing.”
She faced him seriously. “Why not? We have horrible poverty at home, too. We simply do not have so many displays of such lavish wealth.”
“Virginia, you are a lady, and one does shield the fair sex from such sights.”