Chapter 19 #3
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 Devin 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.