Sir Captain O’Neill,
Please be advised of the following. Your orders are to proceed by December the 14 to the coasts of Maryland and Virginia, where you shall commence the blockade of the Delaware and Chesapeake Bays in conjunction with the HMSSouthampton,the HMSJavaand the HMSPeacock.All American vessels are subject to search and seizure. A determination is to be made thereof, and any American vessels, including non-naval ships, deemed to be engaged in military action, are to be seized or destroyed. All efforts are to be made to avoid harmful intercourse with American noncombatants; any suspicion of military involvement on the part of such American civilians is to be investigated and treated accordingly with His Majesty’s rules of engagement.
The Right Honorable Lord Admiral St. John
The Admiralty
13 Brook Street
West Square
Virginia trembled violently and set the letter containing Devlin’s orders down. Devlin was leaving to go to war and he was leaving soon—within two weeks. She trembled, sick with fear for his safety.
She inhaled raggedly, reminding herself that Devlin had been going to war since he was a boy of thirteen. It did not help—she feared for his welfare now. She feared for his life.
And then she thought about the rest of his orders. She grasped the back of his chair. Dear God, he was going to war against her country. His orders were to seize and destroy any American naval ships and any other vessels suspected of military involvement. He would be fighting her country and her people within miles of her home. And suddenly it was so terribly clear that there was a war raging on the Atlantic Ocean and on American soil, a war between his country and hers.
“Virginia?”
She started and saw him approaching. She swallowed and said, “I did not mean to pry. I was looking for you. I saw your orders.”
He paused, glancing at the open letter. “My orders are classified.” His gaze was steady upon hers.
“Classified?”
“They are meant only for my eyes and those of the Admiralty and the Department of War.”
“I am sorry.” She was breathless; she didn’t know what to do now. “You’re leaving?”
“Yes.” He was staring grimly at her. “As soon as possible.”
He could have merely acknowledged the fact; his choice of words was a dark blow. She gripped the desk. “As soon as possible?” she echoed.
His gaze did not waver. “Yes.”
Surely this did not mean anything, surely this had nothing to do with her or the night they had shared.She wet her lips. Her pulse pounded. “Can you not delay awhile?”
“I don’t think so.” He faced her soberly. “I will take you home—back to Virginia.”
Her heart felt as if it had dropped right out of her body and through the floor.“What?”
He was far more grim than before. “I will find another way to ruin Eastleigh. It’s time for you to go.”
Virginia sank down in his chair. She was in utter disbelief. He would send her away now? After their passion, their love? “But…”
“But what?” he asked too sharply.
“But last night,” she implored. “Everything is different now…isn’t it?” And she prayed she would not cry.
He did not look at her, pouring a drink. Were his hands shaking? “You need to be freed, that fact has not changed.”
She was quickly becoming devastated. “But,” she said, frozen on the inside, and on the outside, too, “but we made love last night.”
He tossed back a shot. “Don’t,” he warned.
Virginia managed to stand up, holding on to his desk as she did so. “I know it,” she insisted stubbornly.
He finally looked at her, his face taut, his expression so similar to the one he’d worn last night after the ball. “I do not want to hurt you again, Virginia.”
