They followed the Arnolds inside, Devlin and Arnold briefly discussing a motion recently pa.s.sed in the Commons. Virginia gaped at the ceiling above-it was several stories high-and just beyond the huge front hall, she could see into an even larger, grander ballroom. There, a good two hundred guests were mingling already, and the room was alive with the jewel tones of the ladies' gowns and the thousands of crystals shimmering in the overhead chandeliers.

"So you are an American?" Lady Arnold said as they paused on the receiving line.

Virginia started and swallowed. "Yes." Knowing she flushed, she added, "We do not have b.a.l.l.s like these at home."

"And where is your home, my dear?"

"Virginia, my lady." Virginia waited for the next terrible, inevitable question.

"And how did you come to be in England?"

Virginia wet her lips. "My parents died. My uncle is the Earl of Eastleigh and I came to spend some time with him."

"Oh, I am so sorry about your parents," Lady Arnold said.

Virginia thought that beneath her very bright eyes, she was kind. "Yes. Thank you."

"And Captain O'Neill? Is he a family friend?"

Virginia hesitated. Should she get this over with? Would it not be better to do so, sooner rather than later?

Lady Arnold said politely, "I do not mean to pry, of course, but I have never seen the captain in the company of a single woman."

She wet her lips. "He has been very kind. I am...staying at Waverly Hall."

Her brows lifted with mild interest. "Oh, yes, the home he purchased from your uncle. Is your family in residence there?"

"I'm afraid not," Virginia said. And she simply could not go through with it. "Excuse me, my lady, but the captain beckons." And aware of some surprise, she hurried over to Devlin. His regard was searching.

"I am afraid I may not play our charade well tonight," she said tersely.

"You need not play any charade, tonight, Virginia," he said. "You need to merely be with me, at my side, until we leave." His jaw flexed and he looked away, as if he could not meet her eyes. "My lord Carew." He bowed, facing an older, heavyset gentleman. "May I present my dear friend, Miss Virginia Hughes?"

VIRGINIA'S HEADACHE KNEW no bounds. She stood apart, watching the many dancers, having no recollection of the steps as the line of men and women formed and broke, partners circling and changing couples before meeting yet again. Devlin spoke with several men but a short distance away, and she knew from their repeated glances in her direction that these men distinctly understood her status in the world.

She was miserable.

"Would you like to dance?"

She whirled and met Tyrell de Warenne's smiling countenance. "My lord! I'm afraid I have forgotten the steps," she confessed. Then she realized she had forgotten to curtsy and she hastily did so.

He touched her, restraining her. "Please, Miss Hughes, I feel we know each other well enough to dispense with formality."

She was relieved. "You British are all so formal!" she explained. "It has been shocking, trying to adjust."

"Yes, I imagine so," Tyrell said gently, with a benign smile. He held out his arm. "Shall we take a turn about the gallery?"

She glanced at Devlin, who had turned to stare at them. "I doubt he will allow it. I have been insufficiently flaunted."

Tyrell's smile vanished. "Virginia, may I speak freely?"

She tensed. "Please do."

"My entire family is furious with Devlin for his behavior and his bringing you here is the least of it."

She gaped. And she was aware of Devlin leaving his group of gentlemen and striding calmly toward them. She was not deceived. She saw the purpose in his stride and sensed the determination, as well.

"I merely want to advise you that there will be justice, Virginia. You will be shortly compensated for all you have been through, my father will see to it."

She had no idea of what he meant. Compensation? Suddenly she was seized by hope-would they aid her in paying off her father's debts? That would surely be compensation for all she had been through!

Devlin paused, taking Virginia's arm. "Are you trying to lure away Virginia's affections, Ty?"

"As if I would ever trespa.s.s upon your affections, Devlin," Tyrell said.

Devlin nodded while Virginia ignored the exchange, too busy thinking about the compensation that would soon be hers. Finally it seemed as if her terrible turn of bad luck was about to change.

"Shall we dance?" Devlin asked almost formally.

She started. "I lied. I cannot dance, not a single step."

He finally smiled at her. And the warmth reached his eyes. "I find the whole pastime rather boring myself. Shall I get us some champagne?"

She nodded, wishing he had suggested that they leave. She felt fortunate to have thus far escaped any unpleasant and humiliating encounters.

Devlin nodded and walked away.

Tyrell said, "As you are otherwise engaged, good evening. I hope we shall see each other soon." He bowed.

Virginia smiled, curtsied and watched him leave. And suddenly she was truly alone.

It was an odd feeling, and not a pleasant one, to be surrounded by three hundred and fifty guests yet to be standing conspicuously by oneself. And she was conspicuous. With Devlin and Tyrell gone, several groups had turned to gaze at her and she had the distinct feeling that she might be the topic of conversation. One group of ladies stared and spoke rapidly, fans fluttering. Virginia felt certain that they were discussing her.

She turned her back to them and was faced by three handsome gentlemen, and in unison, they all smiled at her. She took a step back.

They approached. The nearest one, a gentleman of thirty or so with shocking red hair and extremely pale blue eyes, bowed. "I do not believe I have had the pleasure of making your acquaintance," he said.

She smiled, summoning up all of her courage now. "No, I do not think so. I am Virginia Hughes."

"John Marshall, at your service," he said, with another, more cursory bow. "You are an American?"

She nodded. "Yes. But I have come to England to visit my uncle, the Earl of Eastleigh." That story had served her well and she decided to continue it.

"So Eastleigh is your uncle?" Marshall seemed delighted. "And you are in Captain O'Neill's party tonight?"

She could not decide if he knew that she had accompanied Devlin alone. "Yes." Her smile was fixed.

"May I present my good friends, Lords Halsey and Ridgewood?"

Virginia smiled and exchanged pleasantries as the men bowed. She felt as if she were surrounded by the enemy-which she most certainly was.

"And how is it you have become acquainted with Great Britain's greatest-and most notorious-war hero?" Ridgewood asked. He was tall and pale.

"Oh, come, George, we all know O'Neill always takes the prettiest for himself." Marshall laughed and the others joined in. But then, his smile not reaching his eyes, Marshall said, "It's no secret O'Neill is quite at odds with your cousin, Tom Hughes. How interesting that you accompany your cousin's bitter foe to this evening's soiree."

Virginia shrugged helplessly.

"Miss Hughes and Captain O'Neill are dear friends-I have heard it said so," Halsey said with a grin. He jabbed Ridgewood with his elbow. "Very dear friends. You are residing at Waverly Hall, are you not?"

"Yes," Virginia managed, hating them all and hating Devlin, too. She could not do this anymore. She hadn't won his friendship; the bargain worked only for him; she had had enough.

"May I call on you, Miss Hughes? Tomorrow, perhaps?" Marshall asked, leaning far too close for comfort or civility.

"Excuse me," she cried, turning and rushing into the crowd.

It was hard to see. The room was a blur of brilliant reds, blinding gold, purple, blue and green, with stark black evening clothes in between. But how could she see? Tears had interfered with her vision and she could not breathe. It was so d.a.m.n hot and airless in the ballroom...if only she could be transported across the ocean back to her Virginia home.

There will be justice. You will shortly be compensated.

Tyrell de Warenne's singular statement brought some small measure of relief as she stumbled into the gallery outside of the ballroom. There, perhaps a dozen guests strolled. Virginia hurried down the gallery and turned the corner. Another gallery ran down the side of the house, barely lit with the occasional wall sconce. Most of the illumination came from a series of huge windows and the moon and stars outside. Thankful to finally be alone, she went to a window and leaned on the stone sill. Pain had seized her abdomen, cutting through it with the intensity of a butcher's knife. She had to get away. She could not go on like this.

They are dear friends-I have heard it said so.

Virginia kept breathing until she was no longer panting, until some of the pain had lessened. If only she could hate him. She knew she should, but she simply could not.

He is not a ruthless monster...but he is not kind. His ability to be kind died the day our father died.

He is not indifferent. It is a sham, a pretense, a huge theatrical act.

I am asking you to save my brother.

Virginia cried out, because Devlin was beyond salvation and that had become terribly clear. Her stomach so hurt her again that she clutched herself, bending over.

"If it isn't my dear, dear, American cousin."

Virginia straightened, gasping with dread, and slowly, she turned.

A naval officer, lean and handsome, faced her, smiling. He bowed. "Lord Captain Thomas Hughes," he said. His smile remained in place and it did not reach his gleaming eyes. "How thrilled I am to finally make your acquaintance."

Virginia needed air. "My lord," she said cautiously, glancing wildly around. But Devlin was nowhere to be seen.

"You act afraid," Tom Hughes purred. "But surely, my dear cousin, you are not afraid of me?"

She simply could not speak. She sensed a terrible intent on her cousin's part and backed up against the stone windowsill.

"Are you enjoying the ball, Virginia?"

She couldn't even nod. "Ex...excuse me," she whispered, and somehow stumbled past him.

But he seized her arm, whipping her back against the stone ledge. "Are you enjoying the ball as much as you are enjoying Captain O'Neill's bed?"

She cried out, alarmed, and tried to shake him off. "Unhand me. You are hurting me, sir!"

His grip tightened. He leaned close. "I heard he f.u.c.ks like a bull. Is that what you like? What you want? My little cousin-my little wh.o.r.e?"

The pain shot through her entire arm and she thought she might faint. "Please," she gasped.

"Oh, yes, yes, indeed, the word I have so waited to hear." He jerked her forward and before she even knew it, he had his mouth on hers.

Virginia tried to struggle. But he pressed her brutally into the stone wall with his body, grinding down on her mouth with his teeth as well as his lips, so violently that instantly she sobbed. He thrust his tongue deep and she gagged; as he raped her mouth, she felt his hand delve inside her dress and he seized her breast, crushing it in his hand. More pain exploded in her, and then she felt his arousal against her thigh and blackness began. She fought it as she tried uselessly to fight him. But he kept her pinned against the wall as he mauled her. She had not a doubt that if she fainted she would be raped. Still she began to swim into the beckoning depths.

"I will kill you."

Devlin's strangely fierce words stabbed through the darkness and suddenly Tom Hughes was gone. Virginia collapsed to the floor, still sobbing, her chest and her arm throbbing with pain, and she heard a man scream.

Choking, she looked up.

Hughes lay on the floor, and above him, on the wall, was blood.

Coherence came.

Devlin kicked him. "Get up, coward," he said very softly.

She had to stop him. He had meant his every word. He was going to murder Hughes.

But Virginia could not yet speak.

Hughes got to his hands and his knees. "She's only a wh.o.r.e." He spat blood.

Devlin lifted him to his feet and threw him against the stone wall. Then he caught him as he fell, lifted him again and slammed his gloved fist into his face. Something shattered there.

Virginia ignored all pain and got up. "Devlin, stop! Stop it now!"

But Hughes, his face b.l.o.o.d.y, withdrew his sword.

Virginia was in disbelief.

Devlin smiled. "A very unwise move," he said. His sword rang as he unsheathed it. And the two men began to dance softly about each other, each with fatal intent.

"Devlin, no," Virginia cried.

He gave no sign that he had heard, feinting once. Hughes misread the feint and thrust to receive a blow; instantly, Devlin thrust and slashed open his uniform. Blood welled. Hughes cried out.

Tyrell. Virginia ran around the corner and into the brightly lit gallery, glancing wildly everywhere, and it wasn't until she was halfway through the hall that she became aware of the people she pa.s.sed turning to gape and stare. She realized then that her hair was coming down, her gown was torn and that what had happened was terribly clear. But her obvious downfall could not matter now. She paused on one threshold to the ballroom, saw the huge crowd there, and despaired. Devlin was going to kill Tom Hughes, she simply knew it, and he would hang for the offense.

Then she saw him, on the dance floor, partnering a stunning blonde.

And eyes were turning her way.