“Virginia Hughes was on theAmericanaand it sank, Father, it foundered in a huge storm, and there were no survivors.” William confronted his father angrily. “Devlin O’Neill has dared claim she lives, as his guest, in his home, and I begin to suspect a fraudulent plan! She must think to pose as my cousin in order to secure some kind of allowance from us! Of course, we have nothing to spare,” he added in warning.
“We have nothing to spare, but if she is alive, perhaps he deserves a reward,” Eastleigh said idly, toying with the letter opener on his desk. It was a small, pearl-handled dagger.
William felt like pulling his hair out. “Father! O’Neill has been trying to wound this family for years. He has stolen everything we most love, but we do not know why! And now you think to give him a reward? This is some scheme, Father. Virginia Hughes is dead, there were no survivors, so some actress comes forth at O’Neill’s prodding to leech us of more blood.”
“You have a fanciful imagination, my boy,” Eastleigh said, walking over to the window, the small dagger in his hand. He stared outside at lawns that had once been manicured but were now overgrown, as they could not afford more than one gardener, and the gardens, once a riot of color and bloom, were now decayed and devoid of life. He touched the dagger to his finger and was rewarded with the gleam of his blood. He smiled.
“I shall send for Thomas,” William decided, “because I have no doubt that O’Neill will invite us to Wideacre in a neighborly gesture to meet the impostor. But our cousin is dead. And we do not have the means to support her, anyway, am I not correct, Father?” And William cared not one whit if the girl were his cousin or not. As far as he was concerned, his cousin was dead—a very fortunate circumstance, given their financial state and her being a sudden orphan and not yet of an age to wed. As far as he was concerned, O’Neill was up to no good and the woman was an impostor.
But why?
Why did O’Neill, as controversial as he was, choose to toy with the Hughes family?
Eastleigh turned. “Fine. Summon Tom. The two of you can put your heads together and bemoan our loss of fortune.” He smiled, and it did not reach his eyes.
Making a sound of disgust, William turned and rushed from the room.
Fury exploded then. Eastleigh jammed the dagger into his wall, a wall that badly needed painting. And he stared at the quivering weapon.
“So you think to stab me again, you bastard?” he said. “If my niece lives, I hardly care, and I will not pay the ransom you so politely request.”
He tore the dagger free of the plaster. “My sons are fools. I am not. This war is not over yet.”
And he imagined beheading Devlin O’Neill as he had his father, so many years ago. It would please him to no end.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
“IDON’T SEE WHY WE COULDnot have stopped at your estate before calling on my uncle,” Virginia said, her tone purposefully low. It had taken two and a half days to reach Southampton and it was late in the evening. Since she had dared to bait Devlin upon his quarterdeck two nights ago, she had not been given the chance to do more than greet him before he would walk away. Unlike her first voyage on theDefiance,he had not dined in his cabin, slept there or used it for any purpose whatsoever. Every time Virginia had gone out on deck, hoping to attempt another civil conversation, he had been at the helm of the ship. Apparently he had given orders that she was not allowed on the quarterdeck anymore, as her way had been quickly barred.
He was, she thought, either very afraid of her or absolutely disinterested in her company.
Now Devlin didn’t answer her. They stood in the front hall of the Eastleigh mansion, Virginia aware of how miserably unkempt she was and how desperately she needed any help that her uncle could offer. She could not help but wring her hands, and she so wanted to make a good impression.
What if the entire matter of her ransom was instantly resolved? She dared to look at Devlin, oddly disturbed. If that were the case, she would be spending the night at Eastleigh and she doubted she would ever see Devlin O’Neill again.
Her heart lurched, leaving her in no doubt as to the state of her true feelings.
I am asking you to save my brother.
Virginia felt like telling Sean that she could not save his brother if he would not even have a decent conversation with her. “Devlin? I really need to freshen up,” she said.
“Virginia, your appearance is fine,” Devlin said, his attention clearly elsewhere. He had not glanced at her even once, he was so hugely preoccupied.
She trembled. “I so want to make a good impression,” she whispered. “Not that you care.”
He finally faced her and his eyes held hers. “Why? Eastleigh is nothing but a murderer and you know it for a fact.”
She swallowed, queasy now with the impending affair, and said, “I need his help, which you know, or Sweet Briar will be lost. And Devlin, I don’t know all the details of your father’s death, but I doubt it was deliberate. I’m sure it was an accident, one that, with the passage of so many years, you have re-created to be a deliberate act.”
Devlin’s eyes blazed. “When a man uses his sword to decapitate his victim, that is deliberate, Virginia,” he said coldly.
She was so stunned that she was paralyzed. Images of a grotesque beheading assailed her. “Your father—he wasbeheaded?”
His face was flushed. But his tone continued to drip venom. “Yes, that is correct. I did not re-create the act with my imagination. I witnessed it firsthand, as did my poor mother.”
“Oh, God,” she gasped, reaching for his hand and squeezing it tightly.
For one moment he gazed at her palm as it covered his, and then he shook it off. “This is neither the time nor the place to discuss my father’s death. Am I clear? You may greet your uncle and cousin as you will, but I will do most of the speaking.”
