When, knowing they were one of her favorites, he deposited two shrimp patties on her plate, she looked at him rather strangely. Eventually, plates in hand, they turned away from the table, descended the steps to the lawn, and having spotted an empty table in the shade of a towering oak, he guided her in that direction.
They reached the table and set down their plates, and he held one of the six wrought iron chairs for her. Once she’d settled, he caught the eye of a roving footman and lifted two glasses of champagne from the man’s tray. After setting one glass in front of her, he took a sip, then drew out the chair beside hers and sat.
She’d watched him throughout the entire performance. Now, she leaned closer and murmured, “You do know that at an event such as this, dancing attendance on your wife is consideredmostunfashionable.”
He met her gaze and arched his brows. “And when have I ever cared what the ton thinks of my behavior?”
As he said the words, he realized they were true; the only person whose opinion had ever mattered to him was her.
She sat back as if much struck. Regarding him as if having only just seen him, she slowly nodded and said, “Now you mention it, you have made a habit of being a law unto yourself.”
Then she smiled and chuckled. “Please don’t think I’m complaining.” With her fork, she gestured to the plate he’d helped her fill, then circled the implement to include the prime table and her glass of champagne. “Being waited on by someone I don’t have to direct is rather pleasant.”
Good.Feeling as if he’d achieved a minor goal, he returned her smile, and they settled to savor the delicacies provided by Lady Wicklow’s much-lauded French chef.
They were comparing the flavors of several canapés Therese thought their own chef might reproduce when Martin approached, his own loaded plate and glass in hand. He gestured to the empty chairs. “Mind if I join you?”
“Of course not!” Therese waved him to the chair on her other side, but Martin didn’t move until Devlin also smiled and nodded.
Martin’s stock with Devlin continued to rise.
A few minutes later, another couple of their acquaintance joined them, and once Martin had been introduced, the conversation turned general. Given there was one vacant chair at their table, Devlin kept expecting Child to appear and join them, but although Devlin scanned the tables all around, he caught not a glimpse of his nemesis.
That left him feeling rather more in charity with the world. All in all, the day had thus far been a success. As he had hoped, the wide range of guests had excused his presence, allowing him to spend hours with Therese—more or less wooing her as he hadn’t before.
Once their plates were empty, the guests rose again and, at Lady Wicklow’s recommendation, commenced ambling down the many paths that led deeper into the extensive gardens.
Devlin had had time to consider his best way forward. After he’d helped Therese to her feet, he, she, and Martin parted from the other couple. Before Martin could think of taking himself off, Devlin caught Therese’s eye. “The groups wandering the gardens will be rather smaller than on the lawn, and the exchanges less formal, more relaxed. Perhaps you and I should escort Martin around. You can deal with the female half of society, while I pave his way with the men, both socially and business-wise.”
Therese’s face lit. “What a wonderful notion.” She linked her arm with his and looked at Martin. “This truly is a superb venue at which to further your resurrection within the ton. We really should make the most of it.”
Martin looked from one to the other, then smiling, inclined his head. “When it comes to managing my return to the ton, I place myself in your hands.”
Therese beamed. “Excellent. Now!” She surveyed the guests departing down the various paths. “I suspect the path to the lake will prove most fruitful. Come along!”
Martin grinned and gestured for Devlin and Therese to precede him. Smiling, Devlin escorted his wife on, in pursuit of what was transparently to be her latest social campaign, and Martin fell in behind them.
Chapter 5
The following morning, Devlin left Alverton House and set off to walk to St. James. He was too experienced to cling to Therese’s side through every hour of every day; there was a limit to her blindness, especially regarding him, and he wasn’t yet ready to lay down his cards in the game of revelation that, did she but know it, he was playing with her.
Despite Child sticking in his oar, yesterday had gone very well. On the journey back, while Martin distracted Therese with questions about those he had met, Devlin had used the time to consider what else—what other situations—he could engineer to advance his cause. To woo his wife without alerting the entire ton to that fact. As a consequence, later in the evening, he had penned several letters and, despite the hour, had dispatched footmen to deliver them.
While those irons were in the fire, he’d decided that concentrating his efforts in areas that he knew would please her would be the most sensible use of his time. He was, therefore, on his way to meet Martin, to further his brother-in-law’s introduction to the ton.
They’d arranged to meet at eleven o’clock outside White’s on St. James Street. When Devlin hove in sight of that august club’s portal, he was pleased to see Martin leaning against the wall of the building next to the club. While transparently waiting for someone, the younger man was using the time to study who went in and out of the club as well as taking note of the gentlemen strolling past.
As Devlin approached, Martin straightened from the wall. He nodded in greeting as Devlin halted beside him, then tipped his head toward White’s door. “Is it still as stuffy as it was?”
Devlin pretended to consider, then nodded. “At least.” He eyed Martin. “I’m sure your father will put your name down and you’ll be admitted, but for your purposes, being a member of White’s is unlikely to be of much help.” He looked down the street. “That’s why I suggested I show you around the more useful venues.”
Given Martin’s focus on establishing a machinery manufacturing business and Devlin’s interest in business investment, he knew which clubs had memberships most amenable to making the right connections.
Martin waved down the street. “By all means, lead on. Where to first?”
With his cane, Devlin pointed across the street. “Boodle’s.”
As a member himself, Devlin led Martin inside, introduced him to the doorman and concierge, then gave Martin a quick tour of the rooms.
