"Or someone's very bold mistress," he said with a smile.

His smile was easy and genuine and it made her heart tighten as she automatically smiled back. She reminded herself that he had used the countess shamelessly and callously, while that poor woman was in love with him, but her internal meandering had no effect. She sighed and faced the street again. Now they pa.s.sed a series of stately and gracious mansions, all with perfectly manicured lawns, rose gardens and stone statues and water fountains. Virginia smiled and shook her head. "One would think the wealth of the entire world resides here," she said.

"A significant portion of it does," Devlin returned. "But there is also terrible squalor. I would never drive you through the human misery that exists side by side with the opulence you are now witnessing."

She faced him seriously. "Why not? We have horrible poverty at home, too. We simply do not have so many displays of such lavish wealth."

"Virginia, you are a lady, and one does shield the fair s.e.x from such sights."

Exasperated, she rolled her eyes at him. "Oh, please." Then she narrowed her gaze at him, aware that he was smiling at her, as if she were amusing. Her heart sang a little, just a little bit. "At home we gave everything that we could to the poor. Mama demanded it, and of course, Papa was happy to oblige. Do you give to charity, Devlin?" She realized the question was terribly important to her.

"Yes, I do. But I give to the Irish poor, Virginia. The British can take care of their own."

"Hunger and sickness know no national boundaries," she remarked. She half turned and saw that they were turning to race up a road that ran parallel to the Thames. Even larger, statelier homes lined its banks. "Are we there yet?"

"Soon," he said, a smile in his oddly soothing tone.

She glanced at him. "Do not patronize me as if I am a child."

"You are as excited as a child today."

"I hated Wideacre!" The moment the words had erupted from her mouth, she regretted them immensely. "I mean..." She faced him again, flushing. She did not want him to ever guess how horrid it had been, being paraded about Hampshire like that. "I mean that I much prefer to be in London, as I have never been here before."

But he had turned away, gazing out of his own window.

Virginia had the chance to stare at his gorgeous profile and her body tightened, leaving her breathless and confused. She would never forget the countess-how abused she had been, how hurt and how utterly sensuous-so why did she still wish to be in his arms? And why couldn't her heart move on, to far safer ground? For she would never forget the countess's belated warning, either.

"You need a new wardrobe," Devlin said suddenly. "I will see if Madame Didier can accommodate us tomorrow."

She blinked. "I hardly need new clothes." It was a terrible lie. Now that she no longer lived in her britches and boots, she desperately needed a well-made dress or two.

"There will be teas and that kind of thing, and there will be the occasional ball," he said. "You need some day dresses and a ball gown."

A ball? But she could not dance! "But you make it seem as if we shall be in town for some time."

"We will be in town for as long as it takes," he said firmly.

She was not attending any ball. Or could she somehow learn to dance-merely so she could go to a London ball and one day tell Tillie about it? She began to worry. She did not want to look like a country b.u.mpkin! Now she regretted refusing to pay attention to the dance master at the Richmond school.

"Is something wrong, Virginia?"

She met his searching gray stare. "Of course not!" she exclaimed. "I would love to go to a ball-we had many b.a.l.l.s at home and I adore dancing," she cried.

His brows lifted in an expression she had come to know so well, one of mild disbelief and of mild amus.e.m.e.nt. "We're here," he said.

She whirled and leaned out of her window and gasped.

Silhouetted against the river and the London skyline was a castle. Or at least, Waverly Hall looked like a castle to her, with two towers that graced either side of the giant limestone house. The gardens were magnificent-she had never seen such color in the fall. Then she saw a green court of some sort with a net dividing its center. She turned and pounded on Devlin's arm. "Is that what I think it is?" she demanded. "Is that a tennis court?"

He laughed at her. "Yes, it is."

"I want to play." She had never played the game before but it sounded like so much fun.

"You may play all the tennis that you want, Virginia, as this is presently your home."

Her excitement faded. She had briefly forgotten their bargain because Devlin had been behaving so amiably it was as if he were really her friend. But they did have a bargain and he was buying her a new wardrobe and taking her to b.a.l.l.s-he intended to parade her about London now, humiliating her and her uncle until Eastleigh capitulated and paid her ransom.

She moved away from him. "This isn't my home. It's my prison, but I had forgotten it, and that is not a good idea." Suddenly the aching sadness she had been afflicted with yesterday, upon seeing the countess leaving, a.s.sailed her again.

"Try to think of it as your home," he said quietly.

She barely managed to smile at him.

AN IMPOSSIBLY STRAIGHT-FACED butler showed them in. Virginia gaped at the immense front hall with its high ceilings, crystal chandelier and works of art. One life-size nude statue was a masterpiece-a Roman soldier mounted on a warhorse.

And the floors beneath her feet were marble. Good G.o.d, Devlin was even wealthier than she had thought.

"Good day, sir, we are so pleased to have you back," the butler intoned, taking Virginia's hat and gloves and then Devlin's gloves as well.

"Benson, this is Miss Hughes. Have her bags brought to my rooms, which she will be sharing," Devlin said.

The butler did not bat an eye. "Yes, Sir Captain."

Virginia felt drawn to a huge painting depicting some kind of ancient battle. Mounted soldiers, perhaps Greek or Roman, were invading a citadel filled with frightened women and crying children. The scene was grim, but so powerful and so beautifully done. She stared in awe.

"Ty," Devlin said with surprise.

Virginia turned to see a man standing in the opposite doorway, backlit by the sun.

"Dev." He came forward and she instantly recognized him as the Earl of Adare's son. The resemblance, the sense of power, the dark good looks, were remarkable. She watched with real curiosity as the two men embraced, and decided that they were more than stepbrothers-clearly they were genuine friends. Then the man Devlin had referred to as Ty stepped back and looked curiously at Virginia.

"Virginia," Devlin said, holding out his hand and smiling at her.

She faltered, because once again it was as if Devlin were truly her friend. And suddenly she wished that he was-that he could be a real friend, even if he might never come to love her as a woman. She could settle, she thought, for that crumb.

"Virginia," he said again. But there was no impatience in his tone.

She came forward, the tall, dark man staring far too directly at her, as if he were inspecting her inside and out. She felt herself flush. Was she to play her part now, again? She paused before Devlin, but he did not put his arm around her as he had when they had performed their charade at Wideacre. "Miss Virginia Hughes," he said quietly.

Ty nodded, his jaw flexing, his eyes dark. Virginia realized he was angry as he turned to Devlin, not speaking, as if he dared not utter a word.

"My stepbrother, Tyrell de Warenne," Devlin said to Virginia.

She realized that no charade would be necessary, not with his family.

Tyrell faced her with a bow. "I apologize, Miss Hughes. Your beauty has left me speechless."

She blinked and smiled at him, relived that she did not have to play the trollop now. "I doubt that."

He straightened. "I beg your pardon?"

She bit her lip. "I mean, thank you very much."

Devlin choked.

"Sean speaks very highly of you. He sends his warmest regards," Tyrell added, not glancing another time at Devlin.

Her heart tightened a little. She smiled, instantly somewhat sad. "How is he?"

"Well, if you mean his state of health," Tyrell said, "he is fine."

She met his gaze. Did this man somehow know that Sean was in love with her? Or that he had once been in love with her? And why was he angry with Devlin? "When did you see him? Was it at Askeaton?"

"Yes. A fortnight ago, we actually supped together there." Tyrell reached into his fine, nearly black coat and withdrew a sealed letter. "For you, Miss Hughes."

She took it, seeing her name and recognizing Sean's handwriting instantly. She didn't know whether to be worried or pleased. Then she felt both men staring and she glanced from Tyrell to Devlin. His expression had turned aloof. "Thank you for delivering this," she said to Tyrell. Then to Devlin, she said, "Your home is lovely. I have never seen anything like it. I am going to step outside and explore while you and your brother get reacquainted."

Devlin merely nodded at her.

Clutching the letter tightly, Virginia hurried out.

Tyrell faced Devlin then, finally allowing his anger to show. "She is sharing your rooms? I heard an insane rumor, Dev, about you living openly with some woman in Hampshire, but I did not believe it."

"Tread with care, Ty," Devlin warned, walking into the adjoining salon. He stared across the room. Huge windows let out onto the terrace there and he could see Virginia, opening the letter with her fingernail. Was she in a rush?

Anger enveloped him then.

It was a love letter, he was certain, and she had been moved to receive it and could not wait to read it.

"What the h.e.l.l are you thinking, Dev?" Tyrell demanded, pausing by his side. He also glanced out of the windows at Virginia, who was now reading the single page she held. Clearly her hand trembled, as the page wavered like a flag.

"I am afraid that whom I wish to bed is not your affair."

"Oh, ho! So you think to play me for a fool!" Tyrell was incredulous. "She is Eastleigh's niece. I know now for certain that you continue on some torturous path of self-destruction."

"The only person on a path of destruction is Eastleigh himself," Devlin said more calmly than he felt. He thought he saw Virginia's shoulders shake. Was she crying?

"Sean is in love with her. You would cuckold your brother?"

Devlin finally tore his gaze from Virginia, an instant from striking Tyrell, his fist raised. Ty was as tall as he, but heavier and more thickly built, and in any actual fight, stronger, although not quicker. The two men had never exchanged blows. "Leave this alone, Ty," he warned, but all he could think about was Virginia outside, crying over Sean's love letter.

"No." Tyrell's jaw was hard and a fierce glint was in his nearly black eyes. "I am your brother and I will not leave this alone. Sean told me your absurd plan to ransom her. You left Askeaton three weeks ago. Where is the ransom, Devlin? Why is she now your mistress when it is your brother she should be with?"

Devlin's fury knew no bounds because Tyrell was right. In a red haze, he saw Virginia and Sean in an unholy embrace. "She remains with me, doing as I choose, until I say so," he ground out.

Tyrell gripped his shoulders. "I have never seen you like this, so thoughtless, so furious. I cannot believe you would destroy her this way-for my brother would never do such a thing! And when this is over? Do you think to escape with your head?" he now cried.

Devlin shrugged him off, Sean's words suddenly echoing disturbingly in his mind. You will have to destroy her, will you not? First Sean and now Tyrell. G.o.d, what was he doing? He knew d.a.m.n well that Virginia did not deserve to be a p.a.w.n in his schemes. "Virginia will survive," he said grimly. "I will rectify everything after the ransom."

"And how will you do that? Will you marry her to salvage her reputation?"

Devlin started, his heart skipping uncontrollably. "No," he heard himself say. But Tyrell was right. He had not faced the whole truth before-only marriage would save Virginia from the critics and gossips he had set upon her.

Family and love were not for him.

His life was one of destruction and death.

Tyrell wrenched him around. "And what of your career? It hangs by a thread now! One more false move and I am certain there will be a court-martial! This abduction is criminal, Devlin, and don't tell me you do not know it. Men hang for less."

Devlin pulled away. "I will not hang." And he started, because beyond Tyrell, through the windows, he saw that Virginia was ashen and as immobile as a statue.

Tyrell followed his stare. Suddenly he said, "Are you in love with this girl?" His tone was incredulous.

Devlin recoiled. "No!"

"I see." Tyrell stared thoughtfully. Then he asked, "Will Eastleigh pay?"

"When I am through, he will." He paced, shaken and disturbed.

"How can you do this to her?" Tyrell demanded. "Look." He jerked his head at the window. Outside, Virginia trembled, covering her face with her hands. "She weeps. She is weeping, Devlin. I know it has to bother you, because I know you better than anyone, better even than Sean, and I know you are not ruthless, not completely, at least."

"Fine," he said grimly. "Fine! It bothers me! Are you satisfied now, G.o.dd.a.m.n it?"

Tyrell jerked with surprise, eyes wide and stunned. Devlin stalked to the sideboard, pouring a large Scotch, his hand shaking. He ignored Tyrell, trying to come to grips with his anger and other, more confusing, insistent feelings he did not wish to own or understand. Virginia wept over Sean. Was it possible that he was jealous?

It was an emotion he was unfamiliar with. He had never been jealous of anyone or anything at any time in his life. But this red-hot anger, coupled with the tremor of fear and doubt, felt suspiciously like jealousy.

"f.u.c.k." He threw his drink as hard as he could at the wall. It shattered loudly, sounding like buckshot.

"I have never seen you lose your temper, not ever," Tyrell said quietly. "From the day Father brought you home when you were ten, Gerald just murdered, you have been the most stoic and dispa.s.sionate person I have ever met."

Devlin waved at him in real disgust. He had no response to make, as none could be had.

Virginia ran into the room. "G.o.d, what happened? Are you all right?" she cried, her cheeks flushed but not tear streaked.

Devlin couldn't respond to her, either. He could not believe his rage and he could not believe his jealousy-for that was what it was, enraged jealousy-and he stared at her in disbelief.

"I thought someone fired a musket," she said nervously, glancing between him and Tyrell.

Devlin turned away. He still couldn't speak.

"No one fired a gun," Tyrell said quietly. "Could you find Benson and tell him there has been an accident?" He smiled kindly at her.

Virginia nodded, turning to look wide-eyed at Devlin's back, and she hurried out.

Devlin poured another drink, and this time, he drank it.

Tyrell approached. "I see all is not as it appears," he said quietly. He laid a hand on Devlin's shoulder.