The Prize (56 page)

William sat at the
desk with a quill in hand. He looked up, vastly displeased with the impolitic
interruption.

"I must speak
with you," she said, closing the door behind her.

His brows lifted.
"Really? How odd," he said, standing. And his gaze moved over her in
a sexually suggestive manner.

He made her want to
vomit. She had not a doubt that if she were willing, he would bend her over
that desk and do as he pleased. "Miss Hughes was just here."

His eyes widened.
"What did she want?"

Elizabeth
shrugged—she would never tell
him anything without very carefully deciding whom it might aid and whom it
might hurt. "What does O'Neill want with us?"

"In general, or
specifically?" he asked coldly.

She did not
understand him. "I think something odd is afoot. First myself, now my
niece. And then there is Waverly Hall. I also heard he wished to kill Thomas at
the Carew ball. Can you explain this?"

William left his
desk.

She stiffened as he
approached.

"There is little
to understand, now, is
there—Mother?
He tired of you and he chose a far
prettier, far younger figure and face."

She felt her cheeks
heat.

He stood an inch
away. "He has asked for a ransom for Miss Hughes."

She was stunned.
"What?"

"That's right.
You see, my dear stepmother, it is all quite simple—and quite clever. He has
kept her a prisoner, and when we refused to pay his ransom, he decided to
destroy this family in reputation as he could not do so in finance."

Elizabeth
was stunned. "She was never
a real mistress...."

"Oh, he made her
his mistress, all right. I do think that is obvious. But it had nothing to do
with love, or even lust, so you can rest more easily. You lost only to revenge.
You see, your dear husband murdered O'Neill's father years ago, and we have
been paying the price ever since."

Virginia
crouched in the trees,
shivering, as the drizzle turned to rain. She wished the fine weather in
Hampshire had extended to
London
, but it had not—by the time she
had reached town, rain threatened, and she was regretting not accepting the
countess's offer of tea and cakes, as she had not eaten a thing all day. Even
more so, she regretted the countess's state of finances. It had seemed clear
that she was a compassionate woman and that she would have helped
Virginia
if she could have done so.

Virginia
trembled with cold and felt
faint from hunger. She had had the coach drop her at the gated entrance to the
de Warenne Mayfair home. Then, when the coach had turned back to return to
Eastleigh Hall, she had climbed the iron-topped brick wall. Keeping to the
shrubs and trees, she had crossed the lawns, but perhaps because of the
inclement weather, she had seen no sign of anyone. It was late afternoon and
she was exhausted. Tyrell de Warenne was her very last hope.

Please let him
help me,
she
prayed.

She hoped to meet
with him in secret and planned to wait for him to emerge from the house. And if
he did not intend to go out that evening, due to the rain? She imagined that
she would sleep in the stables and try to accost him the following morning.
But God, what kind of plan was this? Her teeth were chattering from the cold
and her hiding place—a stand of trees not far from one of the stables—was
rapidly becoming useless. She felt like dashing to the stables now and finding
a dry place to hide.

But she didn't dare
move—she needed a good view of the house, she needed to speak with Tyrell
tonight, if at all possible.
Virginia
did not know how long she waited
in the wind and the rain before there was any activity. A groom appeared,
leading a fancy bay from the stables. The rain had stopped although the skies
remained dull, and even though it looked as if it might rain again before the
night was through, the bay horse was tacked.
Virginia
did not know who was in residence, but she
doubted that the earl would go out at this hour, alone and on horseback. She
almost cried out in relief when she saw Tyrell striding down the front steps of
the house, a dashing figure in his coat, britches and high boots, a dark cloak
draped about his shoulders.

He strode toward the
courtyard in front of the stables, taking the reins from the groom. As they
spoke,
Virginia
stood, watching for a moment,
wishing desperately that the inter-

view was over and he
had agreed to help her leave
England
. Her gaze moved back to the
house, but no one else appeared. Her heart racing, she stepped out of the
shadow of the trees and hurried toward him.

The groom was about
to leave and Tyrell looked ready to mount. They both saw her at the same time;
Tyrell's eyes widened. "
Virginia
?" He was incredulous.

She tried to smile,
no easy task when she was trembling almost convulsively from the damp cold.
"My lord, please, do wait! I desperately need to speak with you."

He shoved the reins
at the groom, hurrying toward her. "What hi God's name is this? You're
frozen and soaking wet—how did you get here? Did you walk from Waverly
Hall?" he cried.

He was clearly
concerned.
Virginia
managed a smile. "I am only
a little bit cold and slightly damp," she lied. "Please, my lord, I
desperately
need to discuss an
urgent
matter with you!"

"We can discuss
anything that you wish, but first, you must come inside, get into some dry
clothes and sit in front of a fire!" he exclaimed.

"No!" she
cried, backing away as he took her arm.

"I beg your pardon?"
He started, surprised, his dark gaze searching hers.

She swallowed.
"I cannot go inside."

He stared carefully;
his expression became grim. "Why ever not?"

She inhaled, and then
she dared to trust him. "I have run away," she said hoarsely. "I
have run away from Devlin and I beg you now to keep my secret and help me get
to
America
."

Virginia
sat in the library before a
blazing fire, wearing one of the countess's gowns, which was quite large on
her,

a blanket wrapped
around her, while she sipped hot tea laced with whiskey. As it turned out, the
earl and countess had left for a dinner party. As warmth finally seeped through
her, chasing away the cold, she became aware of an exhaustion that was far more
than physical—it seemed to emanate from her very heart, and maybe from her
soul. Tyrell had already proved himself as gallant as a gentleman could be; she
knew he would help her. Tomorrow she might be on her way across the ocean.

Devlin's gray eyes
assailed her, not cold and remote, but blazing with anger. She had no doubt
that, just then, he was furious with her.

She would never see
him again.

Her heart lurched.
Grief choked her. But this
was
what she wanted; to escape him forever,
to never see him again—unless it was years from now, when she was married and
truly in love with a fine, heroic man, and she would be so beautiful and so
happy and Devlin would know just what he had lost.

Grief made it
impossible to drink and she set her teacup aside.

She closed her eyes.
lam
not going to go back to Waverly Hall; I can never hate him, but I do not love
him, not anymore; I am going home.

Her silent words,
partly a declaration, partly a reminder, felt terribly hollow.

She sighed heavily
and looked up.

Tyrell was pacing the
room. He seemed grim. She was so tired she could not quite recall exactly what
she had said to him when he had carried her into the house after finding her
outside in the rain.

He paused before her.
"
Virginia
?"

She clutched the arms
of the chair, incapable of smiling. "Thank you for being so kind."

                             
455

He did not smile or
soften. "Send word to Devlin. If you have run away, he must be frantic by
now."

"No!" She
was wide awake now, adrenaline surging. "Trust me, he does not care—I am
quite sure he is relieved!"

"You are
bitter," he remarked, staring closely.

"I am not
bitter." But her words felt so much like a lie.

"I don't
understand. Father announced the news last night—wonderful news, I think."

"I am not
marrying him," she gritted. And that image returned, of her in her
wedding clothes, Devlin in his dress uniform beside her in an ancient church.

Never,
she told herself with some panic.

"Why not?"
Tyrell demanded.

"Why not?"
she exclaimed. "The man abducted me, held me prisoner, demanded we live
openly together—all for the sake of his obsession. And two nights ago he almost
killed my cousin. Why not? I have given you four reasons why not, five if you
count the fact that I am merely a pawn in his game of revenge."

"You are bitter
and angry and I cannot blame you. He has treated you abominably, but he has
agreed to marry you, and that is the just outcome, I think."

"Just for
whom?" she cried. "For him? I think not—he has no wish to be shackled
to me in marriage. Just for me? He doesn't love me! Not at all!" she
cried. Then, trembling, she said, "I only wish to go home to my
plantation."

He looked distraught.
"I am afraid your anger gets the best of you. It is the only way to save
your reputation,
Virginia
."

"I don't care
about my reputation."

He was grim. 'Then it
is a good thing that I do, and that my father and stepmother also care."
His tone softened. "We have all become quite fond of you, Virginia. And
Devlin is a very eligible bachelor. He must wed—and why not you?" He
smiled. "You may be small, but your spirit is huge, and I hap-

pen to think there is
more here than meets the eye. I think it is a good match."

She leapt to her
feet. "It is not a good match! I do not want to spend my life with that
man! In fact, I cannot bear to ever set eyes upon him again!" And if she
left tomorrow as she planned, she would surely never see him again.

Oh, God, could she
really do this? Somehow, a part of her could not imagine a life without Devlin
O'Neill in it.

"And you expect
me to do what? Hide you here? Send you to
America
? What is it that you think I can—or
will—do?"

"I beg you, my
lord, to loan me the sum of a transatlantic fare. I promise to repay you,
though it may take some time." Their stares held for a pregnant moment.

He looked away.
"And where do you go when you reach the
United States
?
If you
reach it—as we are at war
with your country. And what do you do when you get there?"

"I am going to
Sweet Briar—"

"It belongs to
your uncle. And he has put it up for sale. For all we know, it has already been
sold and you have no home to return to," he said, his eyes flashing.
"This is madness,
Virginia
, sheer madness, and I cannot be
a part of it."

"You deny
me?" she cried, stunned.

He stared, his face
set. "I am looking after you, Virginia. It is your best interest that I
have in mind."

"No, it's
not," she cried, furious and appalled. "You are my very last hope!
Why can't you see? I will not marry that man, it is simply intolerable after
all he has done!"

Devlin strode in. He
swept his damp cloak behind his back and bowed briefly. "I am sorry you
feel that way, madam," he said, his eyes flashing.

Her heart seemed to
stop. In shock, she stared, and sensing danger, she backed up.

His face was so hard.
The only emotion evident was anger. He now nodded at Tyrell. "I have had
my men

searching the streets
of
London
for her. I should have guessed
she would come to you. Thank you, Ty, for sending me word."

"You have many
broken fences to mend," he said. "She is very angry with you, as she
should be."

"I can see
that," Devlin said, looking at
Virginia
again.

Virginia
realized that while she had been
bathing and changing clothes, Tyrell had sent word to Devlin. "You have
betrayed me," she cried, shaking with anger now. "I thought you were
my friend. I trusted you!"

"I am your
friend," he said, his expression one of regret. "I sincerely think
only of your best interest, and I think—I hope—in time that you will be
thankful for what I did."