The Prize (41 page)

She did not want to
be berated now. "You like my outspoken ways. You said so."

"You are my dear
good friend, Virginia, not my mistress. This is polite society, not a gaming
hall. You almost gave the squire an apoplexy." He turned abruptly away.

It was almost as if
he did not like his own rules. "I'm sorry, I had no idea I was to mince
words. Will you excuse me, Devlin? I didn't sleep well last night and I think
I am going to lie down." She avoided his eyes.

He didn't answer, as
he was avoiding looking at her, too.

That was fine and she
went to the door, trying not to hurry, though she was so upset she had to flee
so she could rationalize away her distress and boldly continue their game. His
words halted her in her tracks. "We leave for my
Greenwich
home tomorrow," he said.

Now what? she
wondered, her heart tight with worry. She shrugged, not looking back.

And as she left, he
added, "I am sure there will be more callers, Virginia, so prepare
yourself." His tone was oddly grim. Finally she gave in and fled.

"
Virginia
, do come meet Lord Aston and Mr.
Jayson."

It was about
five o'clock
in the afternoon.
Virginia
's smile was plastered with sheer willpower
upon her face. There had been four other callers since the Pauleys, three
couples and the village parson. There had been five teas, five conversations,
five long and interminable acts. Five smiles, five kisses and perhaps fifty
"darlings" exchanged between them both. Sometime between
noon
and now, her heart had frozen over, all
emotion simply replaced with one, dread.
Virginia
stood frozen on the threshold of the
parlor, all three men staring at her.

The two gentlemen who
had come to call seemed to regard her far too eagerly. Devlin's expression was
inscrutable, although she sensed his impatience. How dare he be impatient with
her? she thought, the first flurry of anger stirring. She was doing her best to
play her part in the damnable bargain she had once thought ingenious. She had
not known how much it would hurt.

Devlin was suddenly
at her side. "Darling, are you ill?" he asked, his tone filled with
concern.

She could not look at
him. "I am fine...darling."

He slipped his arm
possessively around her. "Lord Aston, Mr. Jayson, may I present my dear
friend Miss Virginia Hughes of Sweet Briar, Virginia?" he said politely.

The two men rushed
forward, then Lord Aston, a blonde with brown eyes, bowed over her hand.
"I am so pleased to make your acquaintance, Miss Hughes."

She felt as if she
were in a dream; this was simply too much to bear. Then she realized that Aston
still held her hand. Suddenly she felt like a bone being fought over by two

dogs—or a whore being
passed around. She tried to dislodge her hand and failed.

"My uncle is the
Bishop of Oxford," Aston said with a grin, his gaze penetrating.
"Have you ever been to
Oxford
, my dear? I should love to show
you the country if you ever happen by that way."

Virginia
swallowed and said, "I
should so love a tour of
Oxford
, my lord, if ever the
opportunity arises."

He grinned eagerly.
"Well, perhaps when Captain O'Neill is called back to duty, you can extend
your stay here at Wideacre. Do you ride, Miss Hughes? We have some fine
horses."

"I ride,"
she said mechanically.

"Oh, do let me
introduce my good friend, Ralph Jayson," Lord Aston exclaimed.

"I thought you'd
never stand back," Jayson grumbled, but he flashed
Virginia
a roguish grin. He lifted her
hand. "I am enthralled to make your acquaintance, Miss Hughes. And while
Aston may be a bishop's nephew, I own several factories and mills. I have a
wonderful home just south of
London
, and the next time you are in
town, you must call, or come to one of our balls." His dimples deepened.

"I should love
to,"
Virginia
somehow managed. She knew what
these men wanted. They wanted to use her the way they thought Devlin was using
her, they wanted her in their beds.

"My balls are
infamous," Jayson added almost conspiratorially. "Prinny usually
attends."

Virginia
had no idea whom he was speaking
of. "Prinny?"

Devlin leaned close.
"The Prince of Wales, darling, the Prince Regent.
Virginia
is an American and newly arrived in our
country," he explained.

Both young men
laughed.

"Actually,
Devlin, it has been a long day and I am not feeling well,"
Virginia
suddenly remarked. "It was
a pleasure to

meet you both. Excuse
me." And not waiting for any response from anyone, she hurried out of the
room.

Terribly tired,
Virginia
requested hot water for her
bath. When her tub was full, the maid gone, she sank into the steaming water
and leaned back, trying very hard not to think or feel, closing her eyes. It
was impossible.

She had known it
would hurt to be paraded as his mistress, but she had never guessed at the
depths of degradation and humiliation, or the extent of the anguish. And now
she no longer felt like a mistress, she truly felt like a whore.

She reminded herself
that she had wanted this bargain, because she had so foolishly fallen in love
with him. But they were an entire day into their agreement, and though he had
what he wanted—the entire shire seemed to know who she was— she had nothing,
for they had not become any closer to being friends. And after this last visit,
after being so forcibly presented to the lascivious Aston and Jayson, she no
longer knew if she wanted to be his friend. And on that thought, she began to
cry.

And then she was
furious. She was furious with herself for being so weak. She wiped her eyes,
refusing to shed another tear while reminding herself that Devlin O'Neill
seemed able to hurt her at every turn the way no one else could. She had known
that before and she knew it better now. So what was she going to do about it?

She could
surrender—or she could fight.

He walked in without
knocking.

Virginia
gasped and looked wildly about
for her towel as Devlin stopped short. The towel lay on a chair, too far for
her to reach it. She looked up. Devlin stood not far from the threshold of
their bedroom, staring into the smaller adjoining chamber where she bathed.
She sank deeper, not quite certain if the rim of the claw-footed tub would
shield her body from his eyes, expecting him to walk out.

Instead, he slowly
walked over to the open doorway of the chamber, his gaze unwavering and bright.

Virginia tried to be
nonchalant. "I beg your pardon, Devlin, I am in the bath."

He leaned his
shoulder against the doorjamb and looked right into the tub. He seemed to
almost smile. "I can see that."

She felt her cheeks
heat. She looked down and saw that the soapy water hid nothing, her entire body
was clearly visible, and her breasts almost appeared to be floating. "I'd
like some privacy," she managed.

He folded his arms
across his chest and studied her, his gaze nowhere near her face. After a
tense, interminable moment, he looked up. "Are you crying?"

"I got soap in
my eyes," she said swiftly. "And would you care?"

"No." His
jaw flexed. He made no effort to leave and he looked her over even more
carefully than before. "But if you were crying, I wish to know."

Her nipples were taut
and so was her sex. She wanted to cover herself. "I was not crying. Please
hand me my towel," she said calmly.

His lashes lowered,
shielding the gleam in his eyes. He walked over to the chair where she had left
her towel, that action bringing nun dangerously close to the tub. He lifted it
and held it wide open for her.

She inhaled harshly,
having no intention of getting out of the tub and letting him wrap her in the
cloth. "Just hand it to me," she said.

"Of
course," he murmured, stepping over to the edge of the tub.

Virginia
stood, reaching for the towel,
ripping it from his hands. She quickly wrapped it around her naked body, still
knee-deep in the bathwater.

He reached for her.

                             
345

"Don't,"
she said hoarsely.

He froze, his arm
extended but not touching her. Then he gripped her arm. "I am only helping
you out so you do not fall and break your neck."

"How kind,"
she said tightly.

"I have never
pretended to be kind."

"We are friends
now."

"A mere bargain
does not make a friendship."

"So now you are
a philosopher?" she cried furiously. She tried to fling him off.

"Step out of the
tub,
Virginia
," he said, his expression
strained.

She stepped out, and
the moment she had both feet on the wood floor, he released her. "I didn't
know it would be this hard!" she cried.

He stared, silent

"Those men made
me feel like a whore."

He hesitated.
"I'm sorry."

"Are you?"
she cried wildly.

"Actually, yes,
I am."

"How relieved I
am, you have some capacity for compassion in you," she said, marching
past him and into the bedroom.

He followed. "I
have changed my mind. We won't stay here long.
London
will be easier."

"Why?" She
faced him. "Because there are many mistresses there—and many
whores?"

"You are not a
whore, Virginia."

'Tell Lord Aston and
his friend." Then, because he continued to stare, she flung, "And
tell yourself, as you have certainly looked at me as if I am!"

His expression
hardened. "I have never looked at you as if you are a whore. No one knows
better than I that you are practically a virgin. No one!"

She could only stare,
as he was almost shouting. What did this loss of control signify?

He calmed. "And
I was not looking at you as if you were a whore."

"Oh, you did not
stare at my breasts and..." She could not continue and she felt her face
flame.

"I was merely
admiring a beautiful woman." He stalked out.

His words sank in.
She ran to the door and stared after him in real surprise.

When his brother
walked into the library, having just arrived from
London
, William threw his quill aside and did not
stand up. He stared at him, a slender, handsome man with the pale blue eyes the
Hughes men were renowned for, and he scowled. Thomas Hughes, Lord Captain R.N.,
was in his naval uniform, and he slapped a pair of gloves down on the desk.
"I hope that there is a damned good reason you have called me down to
Eastleigh
, Will," Tom said bluntly.

"I sent you a
letter a week ago!" William exclaimed, leaping to his feet.

"I had matters
at the Admiralty I could not leave unattended," Tom said darkly. "We
are in a war, Will, or have you forgotten? Actually, we are in two wars, as the
damned colonials have gotten their feathers all trussed up after all that
squawking no one gave any credence to. Did you hear the latest? We lost the
Macedonian
and the
Frolic."

Will calmed.
"No, I haven't heard—not two of His Majesty's battleships?"

"They were both
frigates. Amazingly, those bloody colonials seem to know how to sail and,
worse, how to fight." He turned away from his brother and began to pace.

"It was pure
luck, I am sure. There is simply no way the American navy, which I read has
maybe a dozen old ships, can engage our fleet and survive."

"I agree—and
that is the thinking at the Admiralty." Tom turned, legs planted apart.
"But they also captured the
Detroit
,
the
Guerriere
and the
Caledonia
last month. We are routing them in
Canada
, however."

"That is also
rather amazing," William murmured, as everyone he knew believed the war on
land in
Canada
a certain lost cause, since the
British and their Indian allies were terribly outnumbered and the question of
supplies was insoluble.

"
Liverpool
came down yesterday. I was asked
to be at the meeting by Admiral St. John. He is forever sticking his nose in
our business! He does not want any more lost battles at sea. He is furious over
our losses there," Tom said harshly.