Just inside the door, a small phalanx of older ladies had taken up position in such a way that they more or less forced all those entering to run what amounted to a gauntlet under the knowing eyes of experience, allowing mothers and grandmothers to run either approving or critical eyes over their children and grandchildren, to share kisses and squeeze hands, tweak lapels and straighten lace, and commend or instruct as they felt necessary.
As Devlin had expected, here, too, there were some who saw deeper than the surface. Horatia, Therese’s grandmother, took one long look at him and Therese, then beamed and congratulated them on having come to their senses.
After duly kissing Horatia’s proffered cheek, as he and Therese moved on, he caught her eye with a look of mock alarm, but she only laughed and patted his arm. “You knew that was coming.”
Just as he’d known that they would never get past Therese’s great-aunt Helena and her bosom-bow, Lady Osbaldestone, without some comment. Both were ancient, and in Devlin’s opinion—shared by all the males present—nothing, but nothing of significance escaped Helena’s pale-green gaze, much less Lady Osbaldestone’s basilisk black eyes.
The pair were unquestionably the most unnerving and awe-inspiring grandes dames in the ton, but today, after scrutinizing him and Therese, the old ladies smiled and nodded in gracious approval and regally extended their hands for him to kiss. He complied with all due deference, while Therese kissed their lined cheeks.
“I hear you have another young one on the way.” Helena’s eyes twinkled. “A true celebration, yes?”
Rather more terrifyingly, Lady Osbaldestone declared, “We have always wondered if the pair of you would ever sort yourselves out—it’s commendable that you have managed to do so entirely on your own.”
Devlin kept his relaxed smile in place, but a glance at Therese’s widening eyes confirmed that, yes, he’d interpreted that pronouncement correctly. If they hadn’t sorted themselves out soon, something would have been done. Smoothly, he inclined his head. “Thank you, ma’am.”
Before he could lead Therese away—and escape—Lady Osbaldestone commandingly tapped her cane to the floor. “Now, tell me, how is that reprobate Child?”
On entering the dining hall with Jason and Henry and the other bachelors his age, Martin had to bear up under particularly close examination. Somewhat to his surprise, the older ladies focused more on his social plans—as his grandmother phrased it, “Now that you’re back in civilized society”—rather than upbraiding him over having vanished from their orbit for eight years.
“We’ll be keeping an eye on you,” Lady Osbaldestone unnecessarily informed him, her gimlet gaze locked on his face.
His great-aunt Helena smiled in her usual sweet way and disconcertingly said, “And of course, we will expect great things.”
He’d anticipated rather more complaints and was very happy to escape their censure, enough to admit under further questioning that he’d done rather well for himself and planned to invest in manufacturing. He even uttered the words he knew would put a smile on their faces by saying he expected to “settle down in a few years, once I’ve found my feet.”
With that admission made, he was allowed to escape.
“Phew!” He dropped into the chair Jason had saved for him at the long table. “That went better than I’d hoped.”
Henry, seated opposite, grinned. “They’ve decided to forgive you because—courtesy of being away for so long—they no longer know you, so you’ve piqued their interest. They’re looking forward to learning all about you, while they already know everything about us.”
Jason nodded. “You’re a fresh new prospect to be observed and analyzed.”
Toby dropped into the vacant seat beside Henry. “Heigh-ho, Martin, my lad. How’s things?”
Martin grinned and laughed, and in that instant, he knew he’d come home.
Farther along the table, Gregory sat surrounded by his own group of Cynster peers. At thirty years of age, he, Justin, and Aidan were the oldest of the unmarried Cynster males, with Nicholas and Evan, at twenty-nine, just behind. At family events such as this, all five of them did their best to fade into the woodwork, actively avoiding the notice of their mothers, aunts, grandmothers, and great-aunts. Regardless of their success in that, they all felt as if they were living on borrowed time.
Justin slanted glances up and down the table; the older generation were clustered about the table’s ends, one set of couples on either side of Devil, the duke, at the table’s head, and the others flanking Honoria, his duchess, at the table’s foot. “How long do you think we have? I mean, surely they’ll hang back until we’re at least thirty-three?”
“I wouldn’t bet on it,” Aidan returned.
“I suspect,” Nicholas said, “that it’ll be more a case of how long their patience lasts rather than how old we are.”
“Don’t say that.” Evan turned a mock horrified glare on Nicholas. “At least your mother has had one wedding to enjoy so far.” He looked at Justin and Gregory. “And so have yours. But our fond mama”—he pointed at Aidan, his brother—“has started looking at us as if we’re deliberately withholding the only thing that will ever make her happy again.”
Soberly, Aidan nodded. “It’s almost enough to make one want to go out and start looking around.”
“Almost,” Evan agreed, “but not quite.”
They all shared commiserating looks, then the conversation turned to their favorite topic, horses.
Gregory contributed where appropriate while trying to quell the inner restlessness—the dissatisfaction with his life—that, over the past year, had built and built.
It was becoming a near-constant distraction.
After considerable soul-searching—not an activity that came naturally to him—he’d identified the source of his malaise. Put simply, he lacked a purpose. When it came to his life, he had no aim, no goal that called to him, no ambition to achieve…anything.
He only needed to look about him—at his three siblings for a start—to understand that lack was something peculiar to himself. Christopher had always had the manor and the associated acres to run, the family fortune to marshal and grow; he’d been focused on that from his early teenage years, and now, with Ellen by his side, he was in full control of his future and was unrelievedly happy. Therese had always been set on marriage, and she’d applied herself to the task, landed Devlin, and now had an earldom as well as her husband and family to organize and care for; that had always been her dream, and she’d achieved it and was, transparently, going from strength to strength. She and Devlin both now radiated contentment.
As for Martin, Gregory had thought that after returning from the presumed dead, his younger brother would be as aimless as he, but no. Martin was focused on building a life for himself in manufacturing and was already taking steps to making his envisaged future a reality.
Gregory was the only one in his immediate family without a clear path before him. He’d never been attracted to farming or good with that sort of management; he could have learned alongside Christopher and bought his own acres, but there was no point in that when his heart wouldn’t be in it.