The young ladies saw her and Child approaching and, with bright, welcoming smiles of their own, readily parted to accommodate them. Blithely, Therese introduced Child, who was forced to adopt his charming façade—she’d already noticed how effortlessly he donned the easygoing, entertaining persona she viewed as a mask—and respond as she stated the young ladies’ names and they exchanged bows and curtsies.
Having perforce released her hold on him, before Child could even think of sliding away, Therese announced, “Having only just returned from nearly a decade abroad, Lord Child is woefully out of touch with the entertainments London has to offer. I’m sure he would be grateful for any hints you ladies might share.”
Thus encouraged, all five ladies were quick to engage, and within minutes, Child was ensnared in a discussion of the amenities of London compared to those of New York and Boston, where he admitted he’d spent some years.
Therese listened and learned something of Child’s travels herself. Under the glare of the younger ladies’ focused attention, he grew restive, but the five kept up a barrage of questions, allowing him no chance to step back.
She was listening to the young ladies grill Child on his preferences in drama and the style and quality of performances he’d attended in America when her senses—always alert where Devlin was concerned—informed her he was nearing.
She glanced over her right shoulder and saw him heading her way. His gaze locked on her face, and she smiled delightedly, allowing her thoroughly smug self-satisfaction to show.
Devlin took in the quality of Therese’s smile and felt the grimness that had gripped him ease. He slowed his determined pace to a more acceptable, loose-limbed stride and let his features—until then rather stony—soften.
Her smile deepening, she extended her hand, which he promptly took and proprietorially tucked into the crook of his arm. He didn’t wait for her to introduce him but nodded to the young ladies, all of whom he vaguely suspected he’d met before. “Ladies.”
With murmurs of “Lord Alverton” and “My lord,” the five curtsied.
Sadly, the momentary distraction gave Child—who, at least to Devlin, was plainly desperate to escape—an opening.
Before Devlin could even look his way, Child drawled, “So you are here, Alverton.”
As Devlin’s attention snapped to Child, his old tormentor beamed a smile around the circle and said, “Now the earl is here to escort his wife, I fear you ladies must excuse me.”
With a half bow to the younger ladies, a brief but elegant nod to Therese, and a fleeting, triumphant glance at Devlin, Child stepped back and quickly moved away—or more accurately, fled. That was certainly how Devlin saw Child’s too-rapid retreat, but courtesy of his parting shot, most especially his tone, Child had managed to suggest that there had been something in his squiring of Therese to which Devlin might take exception.
His gaze on Child’s back, Devlin fought not to clench his jaw. From the corner of his eye, he saw that the implication of Child’s words hadn’t been missed by the young ladies. Several pairs of eyes had widened, and at least one lady ineffectually smothered a titter.
What the devil is the damned idiot up to?
Therese ignored the titter and stared—first at Child’s departing back, then at her husband’s face. As usual, Devlin’s expression wasn’t exactly readable, but the muscle that tightened in his jaw testified to his temper.
What are the pair of them playing at? And why am I in the middle?
Child had admitted he saw himself as Devlin’s friend—one old and close enough to understand him without the need for words. She knew they were old rivals of sorts, but Devlin had already won her. Surely Child couldn’t be so deluded as to think he might lure her away, into some form of clandestine liaison? She was fairly certain not, but then why was Devlin reacting with…such tightly leashed aggression?
She was suddenly certain that was what she sensed pouring from him.
With murmured excuses, the young ladies took themselves off. Therese made no attempt to detain them, and with his eyes still on Child, Devlin barely tipped his head their way.
The instant the five were out of earshot, Devlin switched his hazel gaze to her. “What did Child want with you?”
He’d endeavored to keep his tone to one indicating a merely interested query, yet Therese sensed a certain trepidatious undercurrent. She smiled, allowing her genuine delight over her commandeering of Child to show. “I have no idea, because rather than listen to whatever it was, I seized the opportunity to do my good deed for the day and introduce him to those young ladies and encourage them to nurture his acquaintance.”
Devlin regarded her for a second, then she felt the tension that had gripped him fade. “I take it all five are unmarried?”
She opened her eyes wide and wound her arm with his. “Of course.”
He smiled at her then, one of those slow, devastating smiles that still held the power to weaken her knees. “How kind of you. I’m sure Child appreciated your assistance.”
“Well”—she tipped her head—“I don’t know about him, but the young ladies certainly did.”
Studying Therese’s expression, drinking in the smug self-satisfaction not to say gloating that shone in her silvery eyes, Devlin was relieved on more than one account. With any luck, his wife’s propensity to matchmake—clearly already engaged where Child was concerned—would serve to keep his erstwhile rival out of her orbit.
Feeling significantly more relaxed, he settled her hand on his sleeve and mildly inquired, “Where are you off to next?”
She glanced around, then indicated a mixed group of gentlemen and ladies of much their age, and he willingly escorted her to join that circle.
A bare five minutes later, Lady Wicklow clapped her hands and announced that luncheon was served. Devlin seized the chance to remain beside Therese as they joined the shuffling queue leading to the long buffet set up on the side terrace of the old house. It had been some years since he’d had occasion to help her fill her plate, but he discovered he hadn’t forgotten her preferences and dislikes.
