Devlin had turned to his youngest brother, grown surely to nearly twice the height he had been at the age of twelve. He was slender almost to the point of thinness. He was also a handsome lad with his shock of fair hair and his blue eyes, which gazed at his brother with an inscrutable look.
“Owen.” Devlin extended his right hand and found that he was looking slightly up at his brother.
“Do all officers have that same look about them as you do?” Owen asked, shaking Devlin’s hand with a firm clasp. “Hard, I mean. And scarred. I am glad you are home, Devlin, even though I do not know quite what it is going to mean. And you too, Ben. It will be good to have brothers around again. To outnumber our sisters.” He actually grinned, the first of them to smile, and in his face Devlin saw the impish boy he had known—and also the alluring sort of family charm that had passed him by and was going to make Owen irresistible to women in a few years’ time. Or perhaps already? Hewaseighteen, after all. A young man.
“You will wish to go to your rooms to freshen up before joining us for tea in the drawing room,” their mother said. “Mrs. Padgett will direct you. Will you take the child to the nursery, Ben? One of the maids has been appointed as temporary nurse, unless you have brought your own.”
“I have not, Mother,” Ben said. “Not yet. But Joy will stay with me in my room, at least for a while. And she will come to tea with me if it is permitted.”
“Of course,” she said.
Devlin was about to say that they would not need Mrs. Padgett to show them to their rooms. But whichweretheir rooms now? It was altogether possible—even probable—that his mother had moved out of the earl’s suite above the drawing room and had it prepared for Devlin. Ben might have been moved from his old room to Devlin’s since it was front-facing and a bit larger. Or perhaps his mother was now there.
Did it matter?
“Thank you,” he said, and turned to find the housekeeper waiting to escort them upstairs. Like visitors in their own home. He felt more like a stranger than a visitor actually. An unwelcome stranger to all except perhaps Owen, who on the last Saturday of July six years ago had had three older brothers at home, just one the following day, and none a couple of months later. And no father either four years after that.
As he followed a silent Mrs. Padgett from the hall, a silent Ben at his heels, Devlin wished with all his being that he was back in France somewhere with his regiment. As Captain Ware, who had somehow been in control of his own world even while the larger world around him was in chaos.The Earl of Strattondid not sound like himself. Or feel like himself.
Ravenswood did not feel like his home.
Chapter Thirteen
It was amazing, Devlin thought over the following few days, how he could spend time with people—his own family in this case—take his meals with them, occupy a drawing room with them during the evenings, converse with them enough that there were no awkward stretches of silence, and yet find that he did not feel he knew them any better than he had the day he returned.
Though he learned one startling piece of news. When he asked at tea on the first day about the extended family—his grandparents, aunts and uncles, and cousins—he was told that his paternal grandmother, the dowager countess, had died last year during the summer. She had been Ben’s grandmother too, of course. Had he known of her passing? Devlin had not asked him.
After dinner on that same day he told them all that he would be spending much of his time during the coming days with his steward, familiarizing himself again with his properties, reminding himself of his duties, talking with his workers, making sure everything was functioning as it ought.
“But are you not going to be the steward here again, Ben?” Owen had asked. “I do know Mr. Mason has been feeling a bit anxious about it.”
“His position is quite safe,” Ben had told him, “provided Dev is satisfied with his work, of course. I’ll be setting up home somewhere else in a short while. It is high time. I am thirty-one years old. And I have a daughter to raise.”
“Oh, Ben,” Philippa had cried. “Not too far away, I hope. Not when we finally have you home again.”
“I am not sure yet,” he had told her. “But you will be able to come and visit, you know. I daresay I will find a house somewhere that has at least one extra bedchamber.”
Devlin had also told them that he would be establishing himself in the neighborhood in the coming weeks by calling upon his extended family and neighbors. Visiting, making polite conversation while sipping tea and nibbling on cake, was not something he had ever enjoyed. Now it was something he dreaded. Would he find doors slammed in his face? It seemed unlikely, though it was a possibility. Would he find rigidly polite, stony-faced hosts, rather like his mother? Would the Ware and Greenfield families turn their collective backs upon him? He had no idea what to expect. None of it mattered, however. He was the Earl of Stratton, he had chosen to return here to take charge of his inheritance, and he would not now cower on his own land, afraid to face the world beyond his gates.
It was important that everyone, including his mother and siblings, understand that from the start. He had not wanted what was now his life, but since he had no real choice in the matter despite ignoring it for the past two years, he would do what had to be done.
His mother had surprised him at that point by informing himthat she had arranged a tea in his honor to be held three days hence. Invitations had already been sent out and acceptances returned.
“Your family and neighbors will naturally wish to come and pay their respects to you, Stratton, now that you have finally returned home,” she had explained. “I thought it as well to invite them to come all together rather than have a constant stream of callers for the next week or two. I guessed you would not wish for that.”
“No,” he had agreed. “I would not.”
His mother had always enjoyed entertaining. She had been known for her openhanded hospitality. But that had been then, while this was now. She did not look delighted at the prospect of this welcoming party she had arranged for her own son. She would be doing it out of a sense of duty, of course. Always that word—duty.And it struck him as it never had before that there were strong similarities between his mother and him, even though there was now this cold, stiff near-estrangement separating them. She had not forgiven him for his public display of outrage on her behalf, and he... Well, he had not forgiven her either, had he?
This tea, he could confidently predict, would be a grand and formal affair to rival his homecoming reception earlier. And of course almost everyone who had been invited would come, out of sheer curiosity if for no other reason. He would certainly not expect any warmth of welcome from the occasion, though. But he had none to offer in return anyway.
Joy turned out to be a welcome distraction to them all during those early days, as very young children often are. She clung to Ben at tea on the first day and only occasionally peeped at her new relatives. Then Owen took a large white handkerchief from his pocket and, without saying anything, made out of it a bird with wings that fluttered. The bird chirruped cheerfully through lips Owenmanaged to keep motionless. Joy peeped and stared. Then Owen slowly pulled a long, thin white worm from the bird’s beak until the whole thing collapsed in on itself. Joy chuckled and pointed and looked up at her father.
After that Stephanie crossed to the pianoforte and picked out a simple tune on the keyboard. When Joy peeped, she beckoned.
“Come and see,” she said. “Come and play too.”
At first Joy hid again. Then, when Stephanie resumed playing, she wriggled off Ben’s lap and toddled over to take a closer look. Soon she was on Stephanie’s lap and banging both palms down onto the keys and looking up over her shoulder for approval. Philippa went to dance beside the pianoforte and then coaxed Joy to dance with her while Stephanie played. Joy, holding her aunt’s hands, bounced on the spot in time to the music and laughed while looking to make sure her father was still where she had left him and could see her.
