He paused, then said, “We sat down and talked for hours.” His lips twisted wryly. “No holds barred. But by the end of it, I saw that coming back was the right thing for me to do now. I’d achieved what I’d wanted—needed—to achieve, and”—his face softened in a self-deprecating smile—“despite my reservations, I missed England, and most of all, I missed the family.”
He met Therese’s gaze. “Sometimes, you don’t realize what’s truly important until you leave it behind.”
Therese smiled encouragingly. “So you’ve come back for good?”
Martin nodded. “I sold up my share in the business. I owned most of the shares in the Chicago concern, so that wasn’t something I could arrange overnight. I’m sorry I missed Chris’s wedding—aside from all else, it would have been an easy way to meet all the family at once—but I’ll go down and see him and meet Ellen in a few weeks, once I’ve got settled here.”
“You plan to live in London?” Devlin asked.
Martin nodded. “At least to begin with.” He looked at Therese. “I’m staying in Arlington Street at present.”
While Therese inquired about Martin’s living arrangements, with questions Martin largely and rather adroitly deflected, Devlin considered the prospect that, with the more senior members of the Cynster family—those of Martin’s parents’ generation, including the Duke and Duchess of St. Ives—having already retreated to the country and being unlikely to return until the Season next year, and with Christopher and Ellen fixed in Kent, Martin would, perforce, have to rely on Therese to facilitate his resurrection among the ton in order to re-establish himself in the upper echelons of London society.
Devlin wasn’t sure how he felt about that. He wasn’t even sure that was what Martin wanted.
He’d thought to refrain from grilling Martin on his intentions until he could engineer a private meeting, but then Therese sat back and, fixing her brother with a very direct look, asked, “So, what are your plans?”
Of course, she would want to know as well. Devlin crossed his legs and folded his hands and listened as she proceeded to tug at Martin’s plans—vague strand by vague strand—until finally, he held up his hands in defeat.
“To be perfectly honest, I really don’t know, Tee—I’m going to have to study and evaluate the opportunities here and form my plans accordingly. The business landscape is very different here, and until I know more, I can’t even guess at my principal direction, let alone how that might play out socially.” He returned her gaze pointedly. “I’ll be sure to ask you for your opinion once I’ve learned enough to know what to ask.”
Therese softly humphed, but seemed mollified by that declaration. “Just so you know, I will take it very badly if you don’t let me help you.”
Martin flashed her a smile—and Devlin’s memory jolted, and a recently seen image crystallized in his mind.
“You were at the exhibition earlier today.” When Martin looked at him, Devlin went on, “I was there, too, and I saw you talking to an exhibitor…” He narrowed his eyes, bringing the scene into sharper focus. “An American firm—something to do with pumps and hydraulics.”
Martin nodded. “They’re interested in importing machinery for mining, but haven’t had much luck making the necessary local contacts.” He paused, then added, “I know something of their products. Although the business I worked in was initially purely import-export, I eventually expanded into directly investing in companies making new products I felt had potential.”
Devlin’s interest grew. “How long were you working for that business?”
“More than seven years.” Martin smiled, his confidence showing. “I learned a lot over that time.”
Devlin was starting to believe that. Several further business-orientated questions confirmed that Therese’s errant little brother hadn’t wasted his years away from the fold.
Growing bored with such talk, Therese ruthlessly refocused the conversation on Martin’s life in New York and Chicago; while Devlin got the distinct impression she was seeking to learn whether her little brother had developed any socially unacceptable habits—gambling and womanizing being at the top of her list—apparently oblivious of her tack, Martin steadfastly maintained that he’d led, if not the life of a monk, then a close approximation thereto.
“Honestly, Tee, I wasn’t interested in getting caught up in their version of the Marriage Mart, which, let me tell you, is just as dangerous as it is over here. I kept my head down and concentrated on doing what I’d gone there to do—which was learn all the ins and outs of running a business and expanding the Chicago office’s assets.”
She narrowed her eyes at him. “Mama and Papa found you at a soirée.”
“Yes, they did, but that was one of those invitations I couldn’t afford to decline. The hostess’s husband was one of our biggest customers.” He paused, then conceded, “And yes, all right, they—the ladies—had started to target me with their schemes, but that only gave me even more incentive to steer clear of them and their daughters, which I assiduously did.”
“Hmm.” Therese regarded him through still-narrowed eyes. “I hope you remember how to waltz.”
Resigned, Martin said, “It wasn’t completely uncivilized, you know.”
Having had nearly an hour to assess the connection between brother and sister, Devlin was now very certain that the emotional link between Therese and Martin was of a significantly different caliber to the rather vague relationship she had with Christopher and Gregory. Therese and Martin were plainly close, and Martin’s well-being—and most definitely his reintegration into the family and the ton—would be of real concern to her. To Tee—Devlin had never heard anyone else call her that.
He regarded Martin; he was a decent judge of character, and it seemed to him that the younger man had been honest and open about his life since he’d left England. All Martin had said about his plans, vague though they were, had also rung true. Devlin glanced at the clock on the mantelpiece, then looked at Therese. “I don’t have any engagements tonight. Do you?”
Distracted by the unexpected question, Therese blinked, then looked at the clock; it was nearly six o’clock. “No. I don’t.” She immediately transferred her gaze to Martin. “You should stay and dine with us. You don’t have anything arranged, do you?”
Martin looked surprised by the invitation. He glanced at Devlin as if half expecting some protest, but really, it had been Devlin who had suggested it, however obliquely.
Then Martin refocused on her. “I haven’t made any plans, so if it suits, I’d like that. Thank you.”
“Excellent!” She beamed. “It’ll just be us, so you can tell us more about America, and you and Devlin can talk more about business over dinner. But now…” She rose, bringing both men to their feet. She fixed her gaze on Martin and informed him, “You must come up to the nursery and meet your nephews and niece.”
He smiled. “Mama and Papa told me. You do know they’re as proud as punch over being the first of their lot to have grandchildren?”