Delight combined with avid curiosity poured from Lady Wicklow, and she flapped her fingers. “Of course not, my dear. You’re most definitely welcome.”
Therese promptly stepped in. Confident that her stock with the old hostess had risen considerably given that she’d brought not one but two personable and interesting gentlemen in her train, she caught one of her ladyship’s hands and gently squeezed. “Thank you, your ladyship. We’d best move on.”
Leaving Lady Wicklow, still hungry for more, to satisfy the curiosity of the next guests in line, drawing Devlin and Martin with her, Therese glided toward the wide lawn where the guests were congregating. “That was nicely done,” she murmured to Martin, “but just be thankful that with other guests waiting, she couldn’t keep you there while she extracted your complete life history from you.”
Martin glanced at her. “That’s supposed to make me feel more relaxed?”
“No. That’s supposed to put you on your guard.” She slid her arm from Devlin’s and linked her other arm with Martin’s. “Now come along—there are several other hostesses here to whom you need to make your bow. Don’t worry—I won’t desert you.”
Devlin halted. “I, however, will.” When brother and sister paused to look his way, he saluted them and met Therese’s eyes. “I’ll catch up with you later. Enjoy yourselves.”
She grinned. “I will.”
Martin sighed. “I won’t, but I suppose I’ll have to gird my loins and get this over with.” More quietly, he muttered, “At least it’s a picnic and not a damned ball.”
“Come on.” Therese towed him toward a gathering of ladies who had already noticed them and were, albeit covertly, staring.
Devlin watched the pair go, then still smiling, walked across the lawn toward where several of his peers from the Lords were chatting in a loose group with their backs to a high hedge.
He felt rather smug over how well his prediction of Martin providing the perfect distraction for his own activities was playing out. Not only had Martin’s presence in the carriage provided both Devlin and Therese with nearly inexhaustible fodder for questions, resulting in an entertaining and illuminating journey, but Martin’s appearance on the lawns had succeeded in deflecting the combined attentions of the assembled ladies from the unexpected sight of Devlin himself.
Nearing the other gentlemen, Devlin glanced back and saw Martin chatting with apparent ease with a coterie of older matrons, all of whom seemed to be hanging on his every word.
Therese, Devlin noted, was looking on with a pleased smile. He, in turn, was pleased that Martin appeared to be making the most of Therese’s efforts on his behalf.
Returning his gaze to the gentlemen congregating by the hedge, Devlin confirmed that there were several present with whom he wouldn’t mind having a quiet word; his excuse for accompanying Therese hadn’t been entirely fictitious.
During the next half hour, he moved among the gentlemen, exchanging and canvassing views on such topics as the ongoing discussions regarding the property qualification for members of Parliament and the recent unrest in France. The Great Exhibition, or more particularly, the potential consequences for British industry, dominated the minds of many.
He was standing with a group listening to Lord Carmichael expound on the possibilities for more rapid expansion of the railway network when a burnished-brown head caught Devlin’s eye.
Child.Instantly distracted, Devlin watched Child—who, given the direction from which he’d strolled up, had only recently arrived—weave through the guests. Although he paused here and there to exchange greetings, he avoided being detained and continued deeper into the crowd. From the intent expression on his face, Child had someone in his sights, and Devlin was prepared to wager a considerable sum as to whom that someone was.
Without losing sight of Child, he excused himself and, leaving the group, slowly walked along the hedge to where a large beech spread branches over the top of the clipped green wall, creating a pool of dense shadow.
Child would never imagine that Devlin would attend such an event. Devlin hadn’t expected Child to attend, either. Devlin halted in the shade and continued to visually track Child—until Child finally found his target.
Devlin clenched his jaw as Child halted beside Therese. She and Martin were chatting with three matrons who, between them, had four marriageable daughters in tow. Devlin narrowed his eyes at the sight of Child catching Therese’s attention. She smiled and greeted him, then promptly introduced him to the others in the circle.
That made Devlin grin. Child was immediately thrown on the defensive; given his age and that he was the second son of a duke, Child ranked far higher in the eligible-husband stakes than a well-born twenty-five-year-old recently returned from America.
Child was forced to dally by Therese’s side as she focused her attention on Martin, who appeared to have distracted the ladies, young and old, with one of his tales of his time abroad.
Reflecting that, in this setting, Therese was more than a match for Child, Devlin remained where he was, safely cloaked in shadow twenty yards away, and watched as his childhood friend grew increasingly restive.Move on, Gray—she’s not for you.
Then Devlin saw Therese cast Child a sidelong glance—one Devlin recognized. She gave Child another minute to take himself off. When he remained stubbornly fixed by her side, leaving Martin to fend for himself, she excused herself to the ladies and stepped back from the group—and Child, of course, glibly did the same.
Devlin tensed, intending to emerge from the shadows and rescue—reclaim—his wife, but then he caught sight of her face and paused.
If Child had been able to interpret her expression, he would have artfully disengaged and fled, but the idiot was focused on engaging Therese, chatting in a no doubt charming manner, and hadn’t looked at where she was leading him.
Devlin relaxed and settled to observe and appreciate Therese’s command of the social weapons available to her.
She fetched up beside a bevy of ladies—all well-born matrons of the ton. Devlin and any of his ilk would have recognized the danger, but Child, being recently returned to London, did not. The ladies smiled delightedly as Therese introduced him, and Child responded with his usual flair.
Only to discover that, of all the ladies of the ton, that particular group considered gentlemen like him fair game. Every member of the group was rumored to take, exhaust, then discard lovers with quite staggering regularity. Within seconds, two of the group had wound an arm with one of Child’s, effectively trapping him.
Therese met his widening eyes with a delighted smile and—it seemed to Devlin—commended him to the ladies’ keeping and blithely took herself off.
