Devlin hesitated, and then he softened, too. “Good. I’m glad,” he said, and he felt himself smiling, just a little, but he had lied. The guilt remained, festering now, a wound.
THE NEXT FEW DAYS PASSEDslowly. There were no callers, unlike at Wideacre, and the mansion was so large that Virginia had no trouble avoiding Devlin, which she now felt that she must at all costs do. As he did not seek her out—they only shared a terse supper together—she was successful. She began to teach her gangling puppy to sit and lie down. And then they did have a caller—Tyrell de Warenne.
Virginia liked Devlin’s handsome stepbrother, whom she had learned was exactly Devlin’s age. Upon learning of his visit, she instantly went to greet him. He and Devlin were in a quiet conversation, Devlin clad in his naval uniform. Surprised and dismayed to see Devlin so dressed, she halted in the doorway as both men turned. Tyrell had said something about President Madison, she was certain. “I’m sorry,” she said breathlessly, trying not to stare at Devlin in his uniform and wondering if he was about to leave on another tour of duty, “I heard that Lord de Warenne had called. I didn’t mean to interrupt.”
“That’s all right. We were merely discussing your presidential election.” Devlin smiled at her, but it did not reach his eyes. His gaze was unwavering and direct, searching hers, as if for some sign of her real feelings.
It was difficult to break the stare. “Hello, my lord,” she finally said to Tyrell, managing a smile.
“Miss Hughes.” He smiled warmly at her.
“Has President Madison been reelected?” she asked, hoping so.
“Unfortunately,” Devlin said wryly. “The news just arrived on one of our battleships.”
“He is a very good president,” she said firmly. “Capable and clever,” she added.
“Your capable and clever president declared war on Great Britain, in spite of the fact that the Privy Council rescinded the Orders in Council, which he and most of your countrymen demanded we do in order to avoid the foolish war we now find ourselves in.”
Virginia glared at him. “This war is about far more than trade and Britain’s desire to prevent us from becoming a wealthy and equal sister nation.”
“Here, here,” Tyrell murmured.
She glared at him, too. “This war is about your country wanting to reduce us in fact, although not de jure, to colonial status again.”
“This war is about many things, including your Republican party using it as a means for their own political agenda—to crush the federalists and maintain power,” Devlin smoothly returned.
“Do you deny that Britain wishes for us to be impoverished colonies?” she cried.
“No, I do not. But Britain had no desire to go to war with you. Virginia, the British government wishes Ireland to be less than a sister nation, and of course she wishes the same for your country. But no one here is dreaming of reacquiring the American colonies. That is your war hawks’ propaganda.”
“You are wrong. Your nation is an imperialist one.” She was fierce and would not back down, for she knew she was right.
“May I refute?” Tyrell asked smoothly. He was grinning and looking back and forth between the two of them.
“Please do,” Devlin said with a sigh.
“The Americans are as imperialistic as the British, Virginia. Everyone knows the agrarian agenda is to conquer Canada and expand in that direction.”
“We are suffering terrible defeats in Canada,” Virginia said, more quietly. She read Devlin’s newspapers every day, and somehow the small British forces in the Canadian territory had managed the impossible, defeating American troops repeatedly. A half-dozen important forts and settlements had been abandoned. “But no one wishes to claim British-held territory there. We wish to trade freely, unimpeded by your navy, and it is our right.”
Tyrell glanced at Devlin. “Have you met your match at last, Dev?”
“Perhaps,” he said nonchalantly, gazing at some items on his desk. Then he looked up. “Did you wish to see me?”
She faltered. “I merely wished to greet your brother.”
“Is that all?” And finally, his careless expression softened.
She blushed. “Yes. Yes, that is really all.” Then she looked closely at him. “Why are you in uniform? Are you leaving?”
“No, Virginia, I am not off to sea. I have a meeting in town. Are you disappointed?”
She held her breath. “No,” she finally admitted.
His brows lifted, indicating mild surprise. Devlin held her stare.
Her heart raced as she quickly turned away. It was too soon for him to leave again and she was foolishly glad he would stay. She smiled at Tyrell de Warenne. “Would you join us for supper? We should love for you to do so.”
