Now, in response to Therese, Child arched his brows. “I sent him after you, yes.” Child leveled a teasing look at Devlin. “The ‘hotfoot’ was all him.”
Gloriously smug, Therese tightened her hold on Devlin’s arm and glanced up at him with love gilding her features. “Yes, I know.” She looked back at Child.
Devlin saw Child blink as if dazzled by the glow in Therese’s face.
Her smile only brightened, and she went on, “But your help was crucial, and on my behalf and that of the children and staff, too, I thank you from the bottom of my heart.”
Child looked uncomfortable and endeavored to reassemble his usual charming mask. “Think nothing of it.” He looked at Devlin. “Any old friend would have done the same.”
A scream of fury—from Horry—sliced through the bucolic peace. Both Devlin and Therese turned their heads to see the little mite tearfully pointing to a small toy boat drifting away from the shore and Dennis rushing up with a hook on a long pole to catch it and draw it back.
Responding to Therese’s unvoiced need to return to the children, Devlin stepped back and turned in that direction, catching Child’s eye as he did. “Come—walk with us.”
Child readily fell in on Therese’s other side, and they crossed the lawn, with Devlin and Child exchanging comments about developments in various business and investment spheres. Despite considerable subtle probing, Devlin had still not succeeded in learning exactly what business enterprise or enterprises Child had been involved with in America; indeed, for some reason, Child was keeping that particular card very close to his chest. “Why?” was the point that most intrigued Devlin.
They halted a little way from where the three children were lined up along the shore, with the nursemaids and the footman once again hovering. With the long string attached to her boat’s prow restored to her chubby hand, Horry was once more all smiles and delight. Her brothers had a small flotilla of craft bobbing parallel to the shore. Devlin was pleased to see both boys try to show Horry how to make her boat sail along with theirs as they attempted to perform some complicated maneuver on the water.
Although Therese hadn’t contributed to the conversation, Devlin knew she’d been listening and absorbing every comment, and it was she who finally asked Child outright, “What business did you engage in over there? Evidently, it was at least mildly successful.”
Devlin didn’t miss the mask that slid over Child’s features, and he was sure Therese didn’t, either.
Sliding his hands into his breeches pockets, Child lightly shrugged. “This and that. I moved around.” His gaze shifted to the children. “I say, Devlin, are those boats the ones we used to play with?”
Devlin shared a sidelong glance with Therese as he evenly replied, “I believe so.”
Unsurprisingly, Therese turned the conversation to social matters, asking after Child’s parents. “They must have been so thrilled to see you,” she observed.
Having visited the duke and duchess the day before, Therese and Devlin knew that Child hadn’t been expected at Ancaster Park and that his appearance there would have been the first time his parents had set eyes on him for over nine years.
Child snorted, but there was affection in the sound. “Mama fell on my neck—literally—while Papa wrung my hand and thumped my back so hard I could barely stand. Then they called for the fatted calf to be slain—you wouldn’t have thought I’d ever written a word, while in fact, I made sure to send letters every few months.”
“What about Roderick and Pamela?” Devlin asked, referring to Child’s older brother and his wife.
“They’re still up north, thank heavens, but I’ve been warned they’ll be home any day.” Child sighed and met Devlin’s eyes. “You know Roddy will lecture me and hold forth on issues about which he has no actual idea. My tongue’s going to be black and blue from biting it to stop myself from wasting my time arguing.”
Devlin smiled commiseratingly; despite Child’s nine-year absence, he doubted anything between the brothers would have changed. “Sadly, I can’t say that Roddy has grown any wiser over the years.”
“So I had supposed,” Child grumbled. He glanced at Therese. “I might have to seek refuge over here.”
Something Child had always done whenever Roddy’s pomposity had scaled heights too great to bear.
Therese smiled—glowingly—and reached out to squeeze Child’s arm. “You know you’ll always be welcome here.”
Again, Devlin sensed that Child—looking at Therese, then at Devlin—was growing uncomfortable.
Before Child could respond, still smiling, Therese continued, “And as it’s nearly time for tea, please do stay.”
Child’s answering smile was all glib charm. “Thank you, but no. I’d better get back to the Park, or Mama will start to worry that, in light of Roddy’s imminent arrival, I’ve slipped the leash and ridden back to London.”
Exchanging easy, undemanding comments about the local hunt, the three of them recrossed the lawn to the forecourt and Child’s waiting horse.
Therese renewed her invitation, but Child held firm.
He swung up to the saddle, gathered the reins, and looked down at them with an easy smile.
“I daresay,” Therese said, smiling serenely up at him, “that we’ll see you here over Christmas, and then once we’re all back in town and the Season starts, you’ll have to allow me to help you find a lady of your own. I know your Mama and aunts are keen to see you settled, and you have to admit that you’re not getting any younger.”
Devlin couldn’t help grinning at Child’s horrified expression; he suspected Therese would assume it was feigned, but Devlin was fairly certain it wasn’t.
“Huh.” Child stared at Therese as if he’d only just noticed how supremely dangerous she might be. “You really don’t need to bestir yourself on my account. After all, Roddy has two sons, so there’s really no need for me to set foot in parson’s snare.” Before Therese could reply, Child’s tone firmed. “I truly don’t want, much less need, a bride.”
After saluting them and wheeling his horse, as if to soften his rejection of Therese’s assistance, he called, “I will, however, look you up at Christmas, and I’ll certainly see you in London next year.”
With a last wave, he urged his horse down the drive.
Therese watched him go, then still smiling but now rather smugly, shook her head. “He’s forgotten how the ton works.”
Devlin watched Child’s dwindling figure as he turned his horse through the trees, heading across the Priory’s park toward his family’s home. “He’s fooling himself.” Then he glanced at Therese and arched his brows. “But who am I to cast stones?”
She laughed and squeezed his arm. “At least you saw the error of your ways—and ensured that I did, too, and also that I revised my own misguided opinions to boot.” She turned him toward the house and, as they ambled in that direction, said, “Hopefully, soon, Child will see the light, too.”
Devlin dipped his head and murmured, “Don’t hold your breath. There’s something he’s holding back, and as yet, I have no clue what it is.”