Tom made a disparaging sound. Hatred filled his eyes. “Ignore the rotten bastard.”
“That’s a little hard to do when he is holding our cousin hostage, demanding a ransom and parading her about Hampshire as his mistress,” William said with a grim smile.
“What?”Tom shot to his feet.
“I do believe you heard my every word,” William said coolly. “The son of a bitch is living openly with her! It is beyond shocking. And he has demanded fifteen thousand pounds. Fifteen thousand!”
Tom had turned starkly white.
“The scoundrel flaunts her in good society, dragging our name through the mud, ruining us all by association! So far I have kept this whole scandalous affair from Father, but he will learn of it sooner or later. I am receiving three or four callers a day, and eventually everyone wants to know about my cousin! It has become awkward and humiliating and we need to stop this lunatic from furthering his damnable game. But of course, we are not paying one pound for her release!”
“Good God, what the hell does O’Neill want? Other than the ransom? Why does he hound us this way? I knew he was the scum of the earth, but to destroy a young woman this way? And he knows we have no funds!”
“I wish to God I knew why he has chosen us to hound,” William muttered. “But there is simply no possible explanation.”
Tom folded his arms across his chest. “You know the Admiralty almost got him, back in June. He disobeyed orders yet again, failed to complete his tour. He somehow talked his way out of a court-martial. Is the countess still sleeping with him?”
“She returned from town yesterday. I feel certain she is home because he is just down the road,” William returned.
“I have had it with O’Neill. First my mistress, next our stepmother, and now our cousin. Who is next? Our stepsister? The man has a reason for what he is doing, and it is, I think, time we found out what that reason is.”
“I think I may have a solution, Tom.”
“Do tell.”
“Send O’Neill over to America. The navy is losing battles at sea over there. Why, who better to engage the Americans? Is not O’Neill the scourge of the seas? Undefeatable?” William smiled. “You do still have Farnham’s ear.”
“That’s a bloody brilliant idea,” Tom said. Suddenly a movement caused him to start. He turned and saw his father standing in the doorway. “Father!”
Eastleigh smiled at his younger son, his expression impossible to read, just as deciding how long he had been standing there was also impossible. “Thomas. I did not know you had come down from town. How wonderful this is. When did you arrive?” He sauntered into the room, his gaze hooded, and as always, his tone held a sardonic note.
Tom politely kissed his father’s cheek. “Just a moment ago. You look well, Father,” he lied, for Eastleigh had to have put on another stone since the summer.
“I am very well.” Eastleigh glanced sidelong at William. “And hardly in my grave yet. What are you two discussing? Did I hear you mention our new neighbor, the so very heroic Devlin O’Neill?” Mockery crept into his tone.
William and Tom exchanged glances. The earl’s heir apparent spoke. “You do nothing, Father, nothing, while O’Neill pricks us with this dalliance of his. The situation has become a crisis and we are all being played for fools. I can hardly hold my head high while out in public!”
Eastleigh chuckled. “The only fool is O’Neill, as he can strut the tart about the royal court for all I care and it will do him no good.”
Tom and William looked at each other again. Tom stepped forward. “He hates us, that much is clear. And now it becomes clear that you hate him as well. Why? Why, Father? Damn it, you owe us an explanation—if one is to be had!”
“He stole my fastest stallion, my best dogs, my favorite house. And now he has my brother’s daughter in his bed and you ask me why?” His bushy brows lifted. “I have every reason to despise the man, who claims to be a gentleman but is actually a pirate.”
“No.” Tom confronted his father, his legs braced wide apart. He was half his size and far shorter. “Why does he seek to punish you? And us?Why?”
“Because he is a bloody savage, that’s why, exactly like his father,” Eastleigh said.
William and Tom exchanged startled glances. “You knew his father?” William asked in real surprise.
“Knew him?” Now Eastleigh smiled widely. “I killed him, my boy, in the coldest blood.”
SHE SIMPLY REFUSED TObelieve it.
The Countess of Eastleigh sat rigidly in her personal coach, her husband’s coat of arms engraved on a gold banner on each side, resplendently dressed in a low-cut ruby-red silk dress and a black pelisse. Her gloved hands were clasped in her lap and she found it hard to breathe. This was impossible, was it not?
She had heard the rumor in London from a lady friend whom Elizabeth suspected guessed of her affair. That friend, Lady Farthingham, had mentioned over tea that Captain Devlin O’Neill was at his country estate in Hampshire, apparently with a new mistress whom he was openly abiding with. Elizabeth had not believed it, although at the time her smile had been plastered in place and her heart had raced. Devlin was many things, but he was a gentleman and gentlemen did not live with any woman out of wedlock. She had finally shrugged at Celia, saying she doubted he would spend any time on his new property, as she knew the place well and it was entirely rundown.
And she did know it well, as it was so close to Eastleigh. In fact, she had been to Wideacre on many occasions before its previous owner had passed away without any heirs. Devlin had also mentioned the manor once or twice in the time she had seen him over the summer in London, difficult times in which he had been immersed in a hearing, fighting for his survival. He had mentioned the old manor with very little interest. She had told him what she knew about it, but he had only shrugged. He had murmured once, “I doubt I will ever actually see it.” Elizabeth had known he had meant his words.
