“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.
“You act afraid,” Tom Hughes purred. “But surely, my dear cousin, you are not afraid of me?”
She simply could not speak. She sensed a terrible intent on her cousin’s part and backed up against the stone windowsill.
“Are you enjoying the ball, Virginia?”
She couldn’t even nod. “Ex…excuse me,” she whispered, and somehow stumbled past him.
But he seized her arm, whipping her back against the stone ledge. “Are you enjoying the ball as much as you are enjoying Captain O’Neill’s bed?”
She cried out, alarmed, and tried to shake him off. “Unhand me. You are hurting me, sir!”
His grip tightened. He leaned close. “I heard he fucks like a bull. Is that what you like? What you want? My little cousin—my little whore?”
The pain shot through her entire arm and she thought she might faint. “Please,” she gasped.
“Oh, yes, yes, indeed, the word I have so waited to hear.” He jerked her forward and before she even knew it, he had his mouth on hers.
Virginia tried to struggle. But he pressed her brutally into the stone wall with his body, grinding down on her mouth with his teeth as well as his lips, so violently that instantly she sobbed. He thrust his tongue deep and she gagged; as he raped her mouth, she felt his hand delve inside her dress and he seized her breast, crushing it in his hand. More pain exploded in her, and then she felt his arousal against her thigh and blackness began. She fought it as she tried uselessly to fight him. But he kept her pinned against the wall as he mauled her. She had not a doubt that if she fainted she would be raped. Still she began to swim into the beckoning depths.
