Devlin made a mocking sound, although his brother’s words made him very uncomfortable. “You should save your pity for one who needs it—perhaps the beautiful Miss Hughes?”
Sean did not flinch. “I won’t deny I find her attractive beyond comparison. I only hope she does not need my pity, ever, Dev.”
“When you become more acquainted with Miss Hughes, you will discover that she is not the kind of woman to be pitied.” He almost smiled, thinking of her courage and her absurdly independent nature.
A silence fell.
Devlin turned and found Sean staring, his gaze wide and searching. He said, “You almost sound fond of her.”
He actually hesitated. “I am hardly fond of her, Sean. But frankly, her courage is amazing—reckless though it may be.”
“So you admire her, then,” Sean said quietly.
Devlin became impatient. “Enough of Miss Hughes! The subject grows tiresome. When Eastleigh pays her ransom, she goes back. Until then, she isourguest.” He stressed the plural pronoun deliberately and stared. He softly added, “Your loyalty to me does precede your noble sense of honor and your disapproval, does it not?”
Sean folded his arms across his chest, staring grimly in displeasure.
“Sean?”
He spoke roughly. “You know I would never betray you, in spite of my outrage over what you think to do.”
Satisfied, Devlin stalked back to the silver tray of decanters and glasses on the sideboard, pouring himself another, far stiffer drink. The silence lengthened. He finally sighed and glanced up. “All right. What is it? What is it that you wish to say?”
“If Eastleigh is so impoverished, what makes you think he will even wish to pay a ransom for his distant American niece, someone he has probably never seen and does not care for?”
Devlin stared. “He’ll pay.”
“And if he doesn’t?” Sean prodded.
Devlin felt his entire being tense. “Then I will have to provoke him publicly until he has no choice but to rescue our little guest, until it becomes a matter of honor.”
“To destroy Eastleigh, you will have to destroy her, will you not? How can you live with yourself?” Sean cried.
“Rather easily,” Devlin said, but even he knew there was nothing simple about his life and that his answer was a lie.
“You bastard,” Sean said.
CHAPTER NINE
THE MANOR SEEMEDterribly quiet and felt almost empty, Virginia thought, pausing in the grandiose hall. She had spent the afternoon exploring the grounds and visiting the stables, where Devlin had some very fine horses, especially a sweet bay mare. Now dusk was quickly approaching. Virginia had bathed in scented water—Connor had filled her tub—and changed into one of her mother’s fine evening gowns, one altered hastily by Tillie before she had left Sweet Briar. The gown was a bright rose silk, with small puffed sleeves and a low-cut bodice. Virginia had gone to great lengths to pin up the heavy masses of her hair. If she were fortunate, the pins would stay in place until she retired for the night.
She wondered where her captor was.
Virginia walked through the hall, admiring several very old tapestries hanging on the walls and the huge crystal chandelier. She paused before two open doors that led to another salon, this one smaller and more intimate, with moss-green walls and green, pink and lavender molding on the ceiling. A man rose from the dark brocade sofa—it was Sean.
“Oh, I didn’t realize anyone was in the room,” Virginia said quickly. “I hope I am not intruding.”
He came forward in a formal blue evening coat, pale britches and stockings. His gaze was openly appreciative as he smiled at her. “You are not intruding, Miss Hughes, not at all. After all, supper is almost upon us. Would you like a sherry or some champagne?”
She had to admire him as well. With his midnight hair and pale gray eyes, he was every bit as handsome as his older brother. Like Devlin, he was tall, broad of shoulder, long of leg and lean of hip. His body looked every bit as muscled and toned. “I would love a glass of champagne,” she said.
He quickly poured two flutes from the chilled bottle on the sideboard, handing her one. “You are fetching, Miss Hughes, in that lovely dress,” he said.
She wondered if he was blushing, as she remarked two slight spots of color high upon his cheekbones. “You must call me Virginia, Mr. O’Neill, and thank you very much.” She hesitated. “This dress belonged to my mother.”
“I am sorry about your parents,” he said instantly. “And please, it’s Sean.”
She started, meeting kind and concerned gray eyes. “You know about my parents?” she asked.
