Nothing he’d seen or heard subsequently, as they’d left the hell or in what he’d extracted from Therese’s younger brother, had done anything other than confirm Gray’s assessment of Devlin’s state.
Subsequently, putting that together with all he’d observed over the past weeks had left Gray facing another, even more astonishing question. Devlin was in love with his wife, but did Therese know that?
The more he’d examined and analyzed all he’d seen of the pair, the more convinced he grew that the answer was no.
Given his purpose in studying Devlin’s marriage was to learn how Devlin managed the relationship, that realization had only fixed Gray’s interest even more avidly.
The waltz ended, and Gray watched as Devlin raised Therese from her curtsy and, with an elegant solicitousness that didn’t entirely conceal his possessiveness, looped her arm with his and, after consulting her as to her wishes, escorted her to engage with a circle of other couples.
Inwardly, Gray frowned. He’d already been in the ballroom when Devlin and Therese had arrived, but he’d hung back, playing least in sight to further observe what he mentally termed the “state of play” between the pair.
At first, he’d felt certain that Devlin must have said something to open Therese’s eyes; there’d been a glow in her face and a depth of female confidence in her expression that Gray hadn’t seen before.
He’d started to approach, intending to tease Devlin in his customary fashion and, perhaps, learn more. Despite the season, the ball was well attended, and Gray had taken his time wending his way through the crowd.
He’d been within a few yards of his quarry when he’d seen Therese look up and say something to Devlin, and her love for the blighter had never been more clearly on show. Assuming that meant that Devlin had finally confessed to his feelings, Gray had smiled in genuine delight and not a little anticipation of all the minutes he could look forward to, ribbing Devlin about his fall…butthen Devlin had said something in reply, and Therese’s glow had faded, then died.
Her expression had shuttered, and all the warmth that had been all but spilling out of her had vanished.
Gray had stopped short, two paces away from them; he’d stared, but neither had noticed him, and he’d turned and slipped away through the crowd.
Devlin, the damned fool, had muffed it!
In between repolishing his social skills by chatting and conversing with numerous guests while artfully avoiding the ladies who sought to detain him, Gray had continued to review all he now knew of Devlin’s marriage. He tried to tell himself that it was none of his business, that it wasn’t up to him to meddle, much less interfere, but some part of him wouldn’t let the matter rest.
When he found himself quitting the side of the room and, as if drawn by an irresistible lure, heading toward Devlin and Therese, Gray gave up and surrendered to the inevitable. How many times had he hauled Devlin’s arse out of the fire? Admittedly not as often as Devlin had rescued his, but the habit had been set in stone long ago.
He timed his approach so that he fetched up beside Therese just as the musicians once again set bow to string. When she turned and smiled at him in polite welcome, he smiled charmingly and bowed. “Lady Therese, might I have this dance?”
Therese was mildly surprised—there were any number of ladies Child might have approached instead of the very-much-married wife of his oldest friend—but she recalled the plans she had for him and decided that confirming his expertise in the waltz wouldn’t go amiss. She allowed her smile to widen and offered her hand. “Indeed, my lord, you may.”
Child’s expression stated that he felt honored, but Therese didn’t miss the sharp look he sent Devlin as the pair exchanged an outwardly cordial nod.What was that about?
She was aware that it was perfectly possible that Child had requested the dance purely to prod Devlin; in some respects, the pair seemed to share a relationship of schoolboyish one-upmanship. Perhaps understandably. As she allowed Child to lead her toward the area clearing in the middle of the room, over her shoulder, she threw an amused look of resignation at Devlin—and saw his rather tense posture fractionally relax.
He’d been growing increasingly tense as the evening progressed; she had no idea why.
Child reached the open space and turned to face her. She held up her hand, allowing him to grasp it, and settled her other hand on his shoulder as his palm splayed over her back. Then the music began, and they stepped out.
Within seconds, they were part of the whirling throng. Within a minute, she was sufficiently reassured that Child could waltz more than creditably.
He met her gaze and arched a weary brow. “Do my poor skills pass muster?”
She laughed. “You know very well that they do.”
Before she could ask him how old he’d been when he’d quit England, the better to gauge his experience of the ton, he said, “You seemed rather pensive earlier.” Far from being playful or teasing, his expression was serious when he faintly raised his brows and went on, “If it’s something to do with Devlin, perhaps I can help. I have known him since childhood, after all.”
Therese felt her eyes instinctively narrow. It was difficult not to question what was behind such an offer, yet…she sensed that Child was being entirely sincere. And the more she saw of him and Devlin together, the more their relationship—for all its schoolboy moments—seemed one of long, still-close, and well-weathered friendship. A friendship borne of common experience that had lasted through the decades.
Without conscious thought, she followed Child’s lead, and the world continued to revolve around them as he patiently waited for her to decide.
She drew a slow breath. Given the uncertainty roiling inside her, if Child had any insight to offer, she wanted to hear it. She focused on his face. “How close were you and Devlin as children—before you both went to Eton?”
He grinned, and from his expression, she suspected he was remembering those days. “We were the only boys of our age and station in the neighborhood, so our parents encouraged our association, and whenever we had the chance, we spent our free hours together. Early in our lives, that meant a lot of our waking hours. We rambled and, later, rode and explored as avidly as boys are wont to do.” He met her gaze and shrugged lightly. “We were more or less inseparable.”
She nodded. “And then came Eton.”
He confirmed that, explaining that they were not only in the same year, but also in the same house. “And we attended all the same classes, of course.”
