Chapter 23 #2
Tomorrow was her wedding day.
It would soon be dawn. Virginia sat in a window seat, the sky outside a dusky blue-black. Sometime in the evening it had begun to rain, and the gentle rainfall silvered the curtain of night.
She stared at the falling rain. Virginia was trying to imagine the kind of woman she would be like if she had seen her father beheaded as a small child. There was no possible way to do so. She thought she might react like Sean, forgetting every detail.
But Devlin remembered everything. Unlike his brother, he had spent the past fourteen years plotting revenge against his father’s murderer.
She shivered, and not from the cold morning.
That would make anyone heartless, she thought, but the man who had lain with her after the Carew ball had not been heartless, she was certain.
She had refused to reconsider that night again, but now, it was all she could think of.
She closed her eyes in turmoil. Tomorrow was her wedding.
She could run away or she could stay; she could accept marriage to a cold, vengeful man who insisted he was heartless or she could have faith.
Running away would probably fail, but having faith only promised a future of heartache, if the past were any consideration.
Virginia stood grimly. Her logic indicated that she had little choice but to stay and accept marriage to a heartless man, expecting nothing in return except Sweet Briar. How could she endure such a matrimonial state?
Virginia shivered again, chilled in her soul, watching the falling rain. Images of her parents, laughing, teasing, stealing a kiss or a touch when they thought no one was looking, assailed her then.
God, she and Devlin had hardly exchanged words since that awful day when he had almost blackmailed her into accepting their union.
One thing was so clear. She could not endure a mechanical marriage to a man universally acclaimed as heartless; therefore, she must continue on, foolishly daring to hope she could somehow save his soul.
Virginia realized the amount of courage she now needed to go forward to the altar.
And it was time for a civil conversation. It was time for a truce. They certainly could not live this way after their marriage—or, at least, she could not—and more images of her parents came, full-force, bittersweet.
Her decision was made. She walked barefoot across the bedroom, Arthur happily following, filled with trepidation. She already knew Devlin had not come up to his bed in the adjacent room, so she went downstairs, certain she would find him at his desk in the library.
Virginia let the puppy out on the terrace before approaching the single room that was Devlin’s sanctuary. The library door was open and she had been right. A huge fire blazed in the hearth and Devlin sat at his desk, a quill in hand, parchment before him. He looked up, startled.
She smiled and it felt very grim. She was not giving up. She would try to be a real wife to him, no matter the courage it took.
His gaze took in her white cotton and lace nightgown and her bare feet. “Virginia?”
“I thought we could speak—if you have the time,” she added in a nervous rush.
“You will catch cold,” he said, standing and laying the quill aside.
He had a night’s growth of beard upon his jaw, his ruffled shirt was open at the throat and lower, and it was also rumpled. Virginia’s heart skipped a beat or two. He looked dangerous, disreputable and terribly seductive.
She came into the room and went to stand before the fire, her back now to him. She felt his gaze upon her, dared not look back, and then heard him walk over to her. She finally glanced up at him; he glanced down at her. She saw that he held a throw in his hands. “May I?”
She nodded, her throat now constricted, and he settled the dark red wool rug over her shoulders. The fire was hot and she was considerably warmed.
“What is it you wish to speak about at five-thirty in the morning?” There was some dry amusement in his tone.
“Our marriage,” she managed.
He nodded, his jaw tight, the light in his eyes flaring.
She hesitated. Her parents had based their marriage on the truth. “I debated running away again and decided against it.”
He leaned on the mantel. “Go on.”
“Therefore, my intention is to make the best of our situation.”
“That is reasonable,” he nodded.
“How shall we get along? Once, we were almost friends,” she blurted, more nervous than before.
She swallowed hard and reached for his hand.
As she took it, he tensed and she felt it.
“We can be friends. I am certain of it. I have been very angry these past weeks, but I have thought a great deal about this, and now I wish to start over. Tomorrow is our wedding day. What better foundation for a marriage than friendship?”
He simply stared as if mesmerized at her.
“Devlin?”
“Is this a ploy?” he asked carefully.
“No,” she said quickly. “But I cannot be married to a man I cannot laugh with and speak with. I cannot be married to a man and bear his children if we cannot stroll in the park and ride horseback together and in general, engage in a pleasant camaraderie. We are going to share our lives, Devlin, and that is worthy of friendship.”
For a moment he was silent. “I do believe you asked me for my friendship once and I failed you miserably, Virginia. It is very bold of you—and brave—to ask me yet again.”
“But is it too much to ask?” she cried. “Are you saying you have no wish to be friends? That you only wish to share my bed and sit across from me at supper? That is not acceptable to me, Devlin,” she warned.
He stared. “So this is the criteria for our marriage, then? Laughter, conversation, long walks and hacks across the countryside?”
With great dignity, she said, “I cannot live in a cold, barren union, Devlin. Surely you know me well enough now to know that.”
“I doubt it will be cold or barren,” he said swiftly.
“You are avoiding my question,” she said as calmly as she could.
“Yes, I suppose I am.” His jaw flexed. “You seem to think I am a gentleman of leisure, that I will be home and at your beck and call. I am a military man. Two days after our union I am going to war, Virginia, and my tour will last six months.”
She felt crushed.
“But when I return,” he said seriously, “we will take long walks and horseback rides, if that is what you wish. And if you say something amusing,” he said, his gaze intent, “I will make every effort to laugh.”
Relief overcame her. Her knees buckled. “Thank you, Devlin.”
He smiled just a little and then he shook his head. “You remain unpredictable, Virginia.”
“Then you shall not be bored,” she replied. He was going to try to be a real husband to her! Her elation began, swiftly increasing. He wasn’t willing, oh no, stubborn man that he was, but he had given in, he had conceded, he was going to try.
He smiled a little at her. “I do want you to know this. In this marriage, your every need will be met. I have already made it clear to my steward that you will lack for nothing, and if there is ever any problem, there is Adare to turn to, or Tyrell or Sean. And you have yet to meet Rex or Cliff, but they are as noble.”
Some of her elation vanished. Her every need would not be met, not unless Sean was right and she was the woman who could save Devlin’s soul. But she had won enough that day and she refused to dwell on that.
“Thank you, Devlin,” she said. She smiled at him and turned to go. Her bare feet were numb from the cold stone floors.
“Virginia?” His tone had softened remarkably and she whirled.
“Now that I have had time to consider it, I am not displeased about our union. I think we will do well together, in the end.” He smiled a little at her, his gaze searching.
Stunned, she met his gaze. His smile was small but genuine and it reached his gray eyes, and somehow, it stole her breath away.
He seemed to flush as if embarrassed with his small confession—or perhaps he was merely a bit warm from the fire.
Virginia turned away. She remained in terrible danger.
One small smile, one soft look, and she was as hopeful as ever.
To enter a union so one-sided, to love a man who refused to ever return her feelings, a man obstinately dedicated to hatred and revenge, was surely madness on her part.
But then, the human heart knew no reason.
Virginia knew she would not give up on him, not ever.
The wedding march began.
Devlin felt his heart lurch and then it picked up a maddening beat.
He stood before the altar in the chapel at Harmon House, his brother Sean acting as his best man.
The only guests present were his family—Tyrell, Rex and Cliff stood in the front row with Mary and his stepsister, Eleanor, who had just returned from Bath.
He turned, strangely breathless, and it was as if time had somehow become suspended.
Virginia was coming down the aisle, escorted by his stepfather.
He could only stare. And suddenly he was terrified of his bride, the most beautiful woman he had ever beheld, her violet eyes huge and bright and riveted upon him as she slowly approached. He could not breathe. He was about to be married and his life would never be the same.
The tumult in his heart increased. Terror ran rampant. He need not fall victim to her allure, he told himself in panic, nothing need really change. He had promised her long walks and country hacks and conversation, but in two days he was going to war, and it would be six months before he returned.
He was relieved; insanely, he was even more disappointed.