“Well, I suppose we can occasionally exchange a few words and a laugh with each other before drifting apart again,” he had said. “Dash it all, Gwyn, I wish people would mind their own business and let friends be friends without getting all silly about it and hinting at some grand romance when there is none. I do think we had better keep away from each other most of the time, though. What do you think?”
“It sounds like a very sensible idea,” she had assured him, smiling at him and then laughing. “There is no need to look so tragic, Nick. There is not going to be one broken heart between the two of us, is there?”
He had laughed with her then and looked hugely relieved. “You are a jolly good fellow, Gwyn,” he had said. “I have scarcely slept for the last two nights. I have tossed and turned instead and wondered if you would be hurt if I told you I do not want to marry you. The last thing in the world I want to do is to hurt you. Ilikeyou. I mean, I am not just saying it. Ido.”
“I know, Nick.” She had laughed again. “And I feel just as you do. It would seem a bit like marrying my brother. Not at all the thing, in fact. I am glad you came and cleared the air. Now we can enjoy a simple friendship—but from a distance. And not at all during the fete.”
He had taken his leave soon after, a spring in his step.
And the thing was, Gwyneth had thought as she had gazed after him, he was right, and she had been fully aware of it—andconcerned about it—before he came and made his painful explanation. She was dearly fond of him, but she could neverlovehim. Not inthatway. It really was a relief to discover that he had no romantic feelings toward her either. Now she was free to enjoy the fete as she had wanted to enjoy it—looking about at all the other young men, seeing if any were interested in her and if she was interested in them. Perhaps even... No,notperhaps him. Devlin Ware hardly knew she existed. She would be free to find someone new, even if only for a little light flirtation.
But, oh dear, it did feel a bit upsetting that she and Nicholas could no longer enjoy even a friendship. And it was all because they were a boy and a girl suddenly grown into a young man and woman and it was no longer quite the thing unless they were in a courtship. Life was going to feel a tad flat for a while. A rehearsal for September, perhaps, when he would be going away to join his regiment and would perhaps never come back. But a lurching of her stomach had made her wish she had not thought beyond his actual leaving.Neverwas a pretty brutal word.
So here she was at the fete, feeling festive and pretty—even if itwasa bit conceited of her to think so—and looking forward to all the activities and possibilities of the day ahead. And a little dragged down by depression. She had not set eyes upon Nicholas all week, and this morning, while every member of the Ware family had greeted her by name and spoken a few words to her—evenDevlin, who had commented upon how fortunate they were that the weather was so lovely—Nicholas had included her in the general remarks he had made to her parents and Idris but had scarcely glanced at her and had not even spoken her name. He was finding this hard, she thought, but... Oh, Nicholas! Everyonewouldbe thinking they had quarreled. And she really was missing him.
Being eighteen was not all sunshine and light, as she hadexpected it to be. But at least she was free to look about her today andenjoyherself.
The vicar began his prayer.
—
After the opening prayer and some brief words of welcome from the earl, the children’s choir sang. They were unaccompanied but took their opening note for each song unerringly from Sir Ifor and remained miraculously on key and even in harmony with one another when they launched into two-part singing. The sopranos from the church choir soared, most of the others took the lower notes, which often comprised the main melody, and those few who were truly tone deaf at least managed to keep the correct rhythm as they growled a bass foundation to the whole. They all took their bow—which they had practiced to be done in unison—when they were finished, some of the boys giggling self-consciously and crossing their eyes, Owen among them, most of the girls, including Stephanie, puffing out their chests and beaming with pride.
Then it was the turn of the maypole dancers, who performed for almost half an hour while guests gathered in a wide ring about them and marveled at the colorful visual spectacle that whirled and dipped before their eyes as dancers performed the intricate steps with lithe grace and circled the maypole, weaving in and out and past one another, first plaiting their ribbons into what looked like a hopeless entanglement, and then magically unweaving them as they moved until they were all single ribbons again, each held by one dancer.
“I wish they could dance all day long,” someone complained when they finally came to the end of their repertoire and acknowledged the enthusiastic applause, the women by curtsying low, their skirts spread about them on the grass, the men by bowing and grinning.
“But then we would miss our luncheon, Mavis,” someone else said.
And everyone turned from the maypole to see that while they had been watching the dancing, long tables had been set up along the terrace and covered with crisp white cloths and laden from end to end with a large variety of foods and beverages. They lined up to serve themselves, having suddenly discovered voracious appetites.
Devlin was prepared to be busy all day long. His mother had organized everything down to the finest detail, of course, but one never knew when some unexpected crisis might arise. Besides, it was always good for the guests to see the family taking a constant interest in their well-being and in them. Being good hosts, no matter what social event had brought guests to Ravenswood, was something that was bred into the Wares at a young age.
Owen and Stephanie were directing the more elderly of the guests, including their grandfather and both grandmothers, to chairs that had been set up in groupings out on the lawn. Philippa and Nicholas were filling plates for them. Devlin helped some families find space on the blankets that had been spread on the grass. He held babies and small infants while their parents heaped plates with food. His mother was carrying drinks to various people while his father circulated among the groups, having a word with each. His laughter carried across the lawn along with theirs.
Ben was in the carriage house, gathering everything that was going to be needed for the children’s races as soon as luncheon was over. He would be back before they started to help clear away any dishes or debris the guests had left behind on the grass and to help fold blankets and move chairs off to the sides.
It was the one day out of the year when the Wares worked alongside their servants, with very little thought for their own amusement or hunger pangs. It was how they drew enjoyment from the day.
After he had helped his brother clear the lawn for the races,Devlin went down to the lake to check that the vendors’ booths and other attractions were ready to go. He made sure all the boats and the requisite number of oars had been brought out of the boathouse and lined up on the bank. Then he strode off to the poplar walk some distance away, where the archery contest was to take place. But Nicholas had already made sure the area was properly roped off. He would be there later, he promised Devlin, before the contests began, to warn parents to keep an eye on their children. Devlin checked on the stable yard behind the hall, where the log-splitting contest was to take place later. But everything was under control—Ben was back there with Owen and a couple of Owen’s friends, all of whom seemed to find it necessary to talk at once and at great volume.
He could relax now, Devlin told himself, and enjoy the afternoon with everyone else. Relax and let his mind wander. It had been wandering all day actually—to Gwyneth Rhys, just as it had all of yesterday and last night. The fete was always an exciting time. The arrival of family members as house guests the day before the great event only added to the anticipation. But this year Devlin felt more than usually restless. He had tossed and turned in his bed far more than he had slept on it last night. Because of Gwyneth. Because perhaps, maybe—though probably not, but just possibly—he might have a chance with her.
She looked vividly lovely today in a bright pink dress and with her dark hair styled in myriad curls and ringlets and threaded with tiny flowers. And she glowed, a smile curving her lips whenever he caught sight of her, as though she was bubbling over with happiness. As why should she not be on the day of the Ravenswood fete? But he had half feared she would be looking wan and dejected.
He had found out just yesterday from Nick what had happened a few days ago. His brother had ridden into the stable yard and dismounted while Devlin and Ben were examining the hoof of oneof the carriage horses to see if the shoe needed to be replaced. Their father had mentioned that he fancied the horse was favoring that leg.
“I’ve done it at last,” Nicholas had announced. “I did it almost a week ago, in fact.”
“Congratulations,” Devlin had said. “I can’t see anything wrong with this shoe. Can you, Ben? And what is it you have done at last, Nick?”
“Had a talk with Gwyn,” Nicholas had said, frowning and nodding when a groom offered to take his horse and brush it down for him.
“That sounds ominous,” Ben had said. “No, I can’t, Dev. There is no stone or anything lodged under it either. A quarrel, do you mean, Nick?”
“There was no quarrel,” Nick had said. “She was very decent about it. And it turned out she felt just as I did. All this nonsense people have begun to spout about the two of us is nothing but—well, nonsense. I am nineteen, for the love of God. And Gwyn is only eighteen. That is hardly on the shelf, is it? I am fond of her, and if I were ten years older, maybe... But no, not even then. It must be because we have more or less grown up together. I cannot think of her in that way, and she says the same of me. It was a huge relief finally to talk about it.”
“You were beginning to fear a leg shackle?” their half brother had asked, setting the horse’s hoof back on the ground and straightening up. “At your age?”
