Chapter 26 #3
The Right Honorable Lord Admiral St. John
The Admiralty
13 Brook Street
West Square
Virginia went into shock.
“Virginia?”
She looked up, trembling, and saw Devlin in the doorway.
She flinched, but somehow she managed to return the letter to its original position in the drawer.
Her heart now slammed, hurting her terribly.
He was to destroy American ships, including those in the harbor.
He was to take his marines onto American soil and destroy farms, factories and depots.
He was to encourage runaway slaves, using them as spies and guides.
Oh, God. These were terrible orders, indeed!
“What are you doing?” he asked, as still as a statue.
She had had no idea of the extent of his orders.
How could he participate in such death and destruction when he was married to her?
How many American lives would be lost because of his efforts?
She swallowed, staring at him. She was chilled to the bone—no, she was chilled to her very soul.
“I overheard you and Tyrell,” she said unsteadily.
His gaze sharp, he walked toward her slowly, his face that impersonal mask she had hoped to never again see. His gaze slid over the desk—so did hers. He looked up—so did she. Quietly he said, “Did you read my orders?”
“Yes,” she whispered, wondering if she were ashen. For she felt terribly faint. She swallowed hard and cried, “Don’t go! I need you here! Resign. Resign your commission. Don’t go back to war—I can’t bear it.”
He hesitated, his eyes widening. “Only cowards refuse their duty, Virginia.”
“The world knows you are no coward! My God, you have proved yourself a hundred times over, at least!” It was hard to think clearly, she was so shocked by the content of his orders and the devastation he was to wage against her countrymen.
“Virginia,” he said, his gaze searching, “I’m a naval captain. You knew that when we married. I am sorry our countries are at war, truly sorry, but this war will pass.”
“After how much death? After how much destruction?” And she cried before she could stop herself, “How many Americans have died already because of you, Devlin?”
His gaze widened and he became rigid. “I do not know.”
“I think you do.” She did not wish to attack him and she knew that was what she was doing. She hurried around his desk and paused before him. “We have been happy together, at last. This war will come between us.”
His face was strained. “Only if you let it. Damn it, you shouldn’t have read my orders.”
“No, I shouldn’t have. Devlin, please! Do not go to war against my country!”
He made a harsh sound. “You are distressed, and rightly so. Again, do not let the war come between us. This I ask of you.”
She was silent. And she was ill.
He reached for her hand.
She allowed him to take it. “All right. I won’t let it come between us,” she said, desperately hoping that it was possible to do as he asked.
The mask slipped away and she saw that he was relieved.
Virginia had to take a seat. She was moved beyond words, moved almost to tears. The salon was filled with warmth and laughter, and as she sat, she inhaled deeply, looking around the room, smiling.
It was the evening of her birthday, perhaps five o’clock.
A fire blazed in the hearth beneath the handsome carved mantel there, where Edward stood with Tyrell, Cliff, Devlin and Sean.
The men sipped champagne and chatted quietly, occasionally laughing at one or another remark.
Devlin had never been more splendid or handsome, clad in his civilian clothes.
He sensed her gaze and half turned, smiling at her.
Virginia smiled back, suddenly filled with desire.
She was trying to do as Devlin had asked.
It was an extreme effort, but she refused to think about the war.
Every time she did, she turned her thoughts to another matter, determined to cherish the time they had left together.
The fact that he had been given such terrible orders could not change how she felt about him; she simply loved him too much.
And he was right. She must not let the war come between them—especially because she had had her pregnancy confirmed that morning.
She had secretly gone to see a doctor, with only Mary aware of the appointment. Her baby was due the following October.
She smiled and touched her abdomen. She would tell Devlin the news before he left. Her heart skipped and she glanced at him. She prayed he would be pleased.
She also prayed she would not be a widow when she gave birth to their child the following fall, and she worried about the war yet again. If only he did not have to go!
“I wonder if anyone will love me enough one day to match a necklace to my eyes,” Eleanor said.
Virginia glanced at Eleanor, who sat with Mary on the moss-green sofa near her chair, a half a dozen opened boxes at their feet. Eleanor and Mary were admiring the necklace that Devlin had given her, which she was wearing.
“Your time will come,” Mary murmured. “This necklace suits Virginia perfectly. It truly accentuates the unusual color of her eyes.” Mary shared an intimate glance with Virginia and Virginia knew she was thinking about the baby.
“I sense a secret,” Devlin murmured, his tone soft and seductive.
And that was when the Earl of Eastleigh walked into the room.
Virginia remained in shock. She was barely able to comprehend his presence as he bowed; nor could she hear the butler, pale and distressed, as he tried to apologize for the intrusion. What could he want? What was her uncle doing there? And then Devlin started forward.
Virginia’s heart lurched with fear as it struck her that Devlin might think to kill Eastleigh for this incident. But both Tyrell and Cliff gripped his shoulders, restraining him. A frightening mask had slipped over his face.
Edward quickly blocked his entrance. “Eastleigh, you are not welcome here.”
“Adare,” Eastleigh said, his pale blue eyes ice cold.
“But surely the lack of an invitation to my niece’s birthday was an unfortunate oversight—as was the lack of an invitation to her wedding.
I have only come to wish Virginia a most fortuitous birthday.
I have even brought her a gift.” He turned and gestured at his servant who held a large wrapped parcel.
Devlin shook off his brothers and strode forward, his eyes cold. “Well, well,” he said, “the man I had hoped to see. And how is it that you do not seem surprised to see me, my lord?”
The two men locked stares. Eastleigh’s teeth bared in a parody of a smile.
“Why would I be surprised to see you present at your wife’s birthday?
I had heard you returned, O’Neill. Oh, congratulations on your most advantageous marriage.
” Suddenly he looked at Virginia and inclined his head. “Congratulations, my dear.”
A chill went up her spine. Virginia watched the two men, both reeking of enmity and hatred, and she despaired. If she did not miss her guess something terrible was about to happen. Could she somehow diffuse the situation? She stepped swiftly forward. “Thank you, Uncle. How kind of you to call.”
Devlin gripped her arm, silencing her before she could go on. “Save your false words for a foolish man,” he said coldly. “My stepfather is correct. You are not welcome here. But before I escort you out, I do have one question. Do you not want to know what fate befell your assassin?”
Virginia gasped. Assassin? What was Devlin speaking of? In confusion and dismay, she stared at him. But he did not seem to be aware of her presence now.
“Assassin?” Eastleigh laughed. “I know of no assassin. Did someone try to murder you, O’Neill?” He laughed again. “Why think it was me? You have more enemies than can be counted, and we both know it.”
Devlin leaned closer, smiling, and it was chilling. “Your assassin failed. But I suggest you watch your back, Eastleigh, as two can play this new game.”
Virginia cried out. No one seemed to hear.
“Is that a threat? Have you decided to murder me now? Is my destitution not enough?” He smiled. “Perhaps your back needs watching, O’Neill, not mine.” He turned and bowed at Virginia. “I do hope you enjoy your birthday gift.” He left.
Virginia simply stared after him as Devlin turned, his expression so hard and ruthless it was frightening.
She was vaguely aware of Edward rushing to comfort Mary, as she was close to tears.
When Eastleigh was out of sight, his footsteps no longer falling, she turned.
The room was now filled with an icy tension.
“I’ll get rid of that,” Tyrell said, lifting the wrapped parcel.
“No!” Devlin strode over and tore the brown waxed paper apart. A painting was beneath.
Virginia could hardly breathe. She was also beginning to feel faint. “What is it?”
Devlin made a rough sound. “Get rid of it. Burn it,” he said.
“Stop!” Virginia ran forward and shoved past him. Then she cried out.
The painting was a beautiful portrait of her parents, painted eighteen years ago, her mother lovely and breathtaking, her father proud and handsome.
An infant was in their arms—a babe that could only be Virginia.
But they were standing in front of a house that Virginia recognized with stunning dismay.
It was Eastleigh Hall. And the Earl of Eastleigh stood with them, younger, more vital, less overweight and as proud and overbearing as ever.
The meaning of his gift was unmistakable.
She was a Hughes and the earl’s niece and nothing could ever change that fact—not even her marriage to Devlin.
“I’ll get rid of it,” Tyrell repeated grimly, glancing at Virginia. She nodded numbly and he took the canvas and left.
“Mary is going to lie down,” Edward said, pausing with her at the door. “Eleanor, come.”
Mary smiled apologetically, her eyes moist with tears. “I’m sorry. This evening has not been what I planned…”