Cliff looked up, and then he and Tyrell exchanged glances. “I think we have other arrangements,” he said.
“I’m afraid that is the case,” Tyrell said. He then glanced somewhat darkly at Devlin, who stood as still as a statue. “Take care of your wife,” he said, and with a nod at Virginia, he and Cliff set their wineglasses down and walked out.
Alone at last with her husband, Virginia tensed.
He faced her, his expression that mask she knew so well and so hated, and he held out his arm. “I believe supper is being served, Madam,” he said.
She flinched. “You never call me ‘madam,’” she somehow managed.
His shoulders, already ramrod stiff, tightened even more. “I am not trying to offend you,” he said as if she were a stranger, not his wife.
“Don’t do this,” she breathed.
His face closed impossibly. “I hardly know of what you speak.” He gestured toward the hall. “Shall we?” And without waiting for a reply, he took her arm in his.
She recoiled. Was this how it would now be? A polite mockery of a marriage? A cold and formal relationship, at once tense and strained? “I only asked you to give up hatred, Devlin, for the sake of your child,” she whispered through stiff lips.
He started forward as if he had not heard her—clearly pretending that he had not.
But she refused to follow, tearing her arm from his.
He stopped and faced her. “Are we going in to dine?” he asked.
She hugged herself. “Not like this, never like this.”
He inclined his head. “Then I am going out,” he said.
She started in surprise.
“Madam? I believe I will join my brothers at White’s.” He nodded at her and abruptly walked out.
She stared after him in shock.
And that night, he did not return.
DAWN ARRIVED,DARKand grim.
Devlin had spent the past two days out of the house. He did not sleep at home, either, and Virginia learned from a servant that he was sleeping on his ship. At least, she thought, he had not gone to another woman.
But their marriage was over and she knew it. There did not seem to be any possibility of saving it.
Her depression knew no bounds. Her world had become dark and black. She could not sleep at night, nor could she get out of bed in the morning. She had no appetite, never mind the child growing inside of her womb. She wept frequently and ignored Hannah’s worried glances.
Now, clad in a lavender robe, she stared at her pale, listless expression in the mirror of her dressing room. She had hardly slept last night, as had become the norm, but she had somehow roused herself from her bed, knowing that Devlin would soon set sail. She knew the tides would be high in another hour or so, for she had asked Hannah to check for her yesterday. But Devlin had slept yet again on theDefiance.She assumed he was going to set sail for his war without coming to say goodbye. He had broken her heart before, but never like this.
I simply cannot go on this way,she thought as she stared at her impossibly pale reflection.
A knock sounded on her door. She turned, making no reply, wondering what her maid wanted at this unholy hour.
The door opened and from her boudoir she saw Devlin in full dress, his black felt hat in hand, standing on the threshold of the bedroom. She felt her eyes widen and she trembled with surprise.
His expression was hard, but his nostrils were flared and tinged with red—from the cold, she thought. “I see I did not wake you.” His gaze quickly took in her untidy appearance. “I set sail within the hour and I have come to take my leave.”
She wanted to beg him to love her again, the way he had before. She wanted to tell him that she could live with his need for revenge, if it meant so much to him. But she did not speak because she could not. She did not move; she did not breathe.
His jaw hardened; his eyes darkened. “How are you, madam?”
She wanted to scream, I am dying inside, moment by moment and minute by minute. But she simply stared. Then, finally, she managed, “As well as can be expected.”
