That made sense. As they rolled through the open gates of Alverton House, Therese reflected that, regardless of his reasons for accompanying her, the prospect of having him by her side added an extra fillip to her already soaring expectations of the evening.
The following morning dawned fine and clear, with a brisk breeze swirling the fallen leaves in Regent’s Park.
By the time Devlin and Therese guided their brood through the ornate wrought iron gates of the Zoological Gardens, the sun had been up for some time and, although weak, together with the breeze had managed to dry the gravel and the grass verges bordering the paths.
As usual, Spencer and Rupert ran ahead, closely but unobtrusively shadowed by Dennis, the footman. With Nanny Sprockett and Patty, one of the nursemaids, Dennis had been brought along to help shepherd the children.
Little Horry had insisted on walking and was toddling along, clutching Therese’s hand. Devlin strolled beside his daughter, smiling as he watched his sons make a beeline for the camel enclosure.
The zoo had opened to the public only four years ago, but from that time, Devlin and Therese had made a point of taking the children there at least twice a year, and it had become one of the boys’ most anticipated excursions. There were thirty or so exhibits, but the boys, of course, had their favorites. The camels, the lions and tigers, the giraffes, and the elephants were always on their must-see list.
After duly pausing to admire the camels, they walked on, skirting the large enclosure that housed a flock of pelicans. Abruptly, Horry stopped, drew her hand from Therese’s, and clapped excitedly, then she chortled and rushed to press her little face to the bars.
Therese crouched beside Horry and peered at the little girl’s rapt expression.
Horry pointed at the pelicans. “Birdies! Birdies!”
Therese smiled. “Yes, sweetheart. Big white birds.”
Devlin leaned down and, when Horry looked excitedly at him, smiled. “They’re called pelicans.”
Horry screwed up her little mouth and managed, “Peri-cans.” When Devlin’s smile deepened, she looked back at the birds and pointed. “Peri-cans! Peri-cans!”
Therese laughed, rose, and held out her hand. “Yes, indeed. And you can keep looking at them as we walk along, but we need to catch up with your brothers.”
Horry’s rosebud lips formed an O, and she obediently let Therese take her hand and lead her on. Horry searched the paths ahead, plainly looking for her siblings. “Where?”
Devlin, who had kept the boys in sight, reached down and took Horry’s other hand. “They’re looking at the lions and tigers in their cages.” He pointed. “Can you see them?”
Horry’s little face looked worried, but then she spotted Spencer and Rupert, and her expression lit. Then she stopped, tugged her hands free, faced Devlin, and held up her arms. “Up! Up!”
Smiling, he dutifully scooped her up and settled her in his arms. He’d known that was coming. Not only could she see better from that vantage point, but Horry wasn’t all that enamored with the lions and tigers, who occasionally roared.
She jigged in his arms as he carried her along, but when they approached the cages, she quieted and leaned against his chest. He halted several yards behind his sons. The boys were standing a few feet from the brick base of the main cage and staring in wonder at the large male lion prowling back and forth on the other side of the bars.
With Horry tucking her head beneath his chin, Devlin glanced at Therese.
She smiled, patted Horry, then went forward to crouch between Spencer and Rupert and talk to them about the big cats.
With his arms full of the soft weight of his daughter, Devlin watched Therese and his sons and felt richly satisfied. He’d suggested the outing in order to distract Therese from thinking too much about the opera tomorrow night, specifically about how, at such a late date, he came by a box for an event that had been sold out for so long and for which many among the ton remained fervently eager to snap up any stray tickets.
Therese rose and, with the boys, moved to the next cage, where a tiger snoozed, barely deigning to open one eye. Devlin smiled as Rupert—the tigers were his favorite—started to explain something to Therese, and she listened with encouraging interest. He was pleased his diversion was working and also because it was a pleasant interlude in the family’s otherwise structured ton existence.
At the zoo, the children were freer to run and shout and point and exclaim. Indeed,hewas conscious of being free from others’ eyes, too; in that setting, he didn’t need to keep an eye peeled for Child or anyone else and could largely be himself without restraint.
The boys finally moved on from the tiger and headed for the giraffes’ enclosure. Therese went with them. Devlin looked at Horry and arched his brows in question, and she smiled and wriggled. “Down.”
Obediently, he bent and deposited her on her feet, then followed as she raced after her brothers.
Horry rushed past Therese to catch Rupert’s arm and steady herself, then with her brothers, she stared at the long-legged, brown-spotted orange beasts stalking on cloven hooves about the space behind the railings.
After confirming that all three children were absorbed, Therese glanced around and smiled as Devlin ambled up to halt beside her. She watched as his gaze rested on the children, saw the expression of contentment that softened his sharply cut, aristocratic features, and felt appreciation well.
She experienced that emotion, one of gladness and gratitude, quite often when out with him and the children. As a maven of society, she knew very well that few of his peers would ever even think of accompanying their children on such outings. Children were to be seen and not heard—and even then, the seeing was severely restricted and regimented. Gentlemen like Devlin hired others to raise their children, yet to his credit and her real relief, he’d never been of that mind.
He’d never been a distant father, although she strongly suspected his own father had been. From the moment that, as squalling newborns, each of their children had been placed in his arms, he’d embraced them as if they were the gifts she herself thought them, gifts it was his duty and pleasure to protect and guide through life.
Growing bored with the stately giraffes, the children ran on to where the two elephants were stamping and tossing hay about their enclosure. Whether the animals were engaged in some game or a disagreement wasn’t clear, but the boys applauded the action and cheered the beasts on, and Horry jumped up and down and enthusiastically added her voice to the chorus.
