The earl was in the village somewhere, socializing, keeping out of everyone’s way, though perhaps not out of the way of those villagers who had work to do. He was always welcomed anyway. It was hard to resist his hearty good nature.
Devlin was in the carriage house in the north wing of the hall, seeing to an overhaul of the maypole with one of the undergrooms. The pole itself was showing signs of rust and needed to be scraped and painted if it was not to present a sad spectacle on the big day. The ribbons, though they had been carefully stored in a long wooden chest, had nevertheless become tangled and twisted. A few of them were fraying at the edges and needed to be replaced. Others, though still intact, had faded after a few years of use and also needed replacing. The groom set about restoring the pole. Stephanie, who had escaped from the schoolroom to help her brother, patiently untangled the ribbons and straightened them, spreading them out along the floor beside the big traveling carriage, which was used once a year to convey her papa to London and once a year to bring him home and not very much in between. She smoothed the ribbons with plump fingers to see if they would need ironing. A fat braid of fair hair swung forward over each of her shoulders.
“I love the maypole dancing, Dev,” she said. “It is my very favorite.”
“Perhaps one day you will lead the dancers,” he said, smiling at the back of her head.
“Verylikely.” She made a derisive puffing sound with her lips and continued with her task. “You have to be dainty and graceful and light on your feet. Andthin.Andprettyhelps too.”
None of which were possible for her, her tone implied. But there was no reason for it not to happen. She was neither physically lazynor gluttonous, both of which manageable conditions were supposed to be main contributing factors to excess weight. The loss of her fat was not happening yet, however, and Devlin knew her appearance distressed his sister. He sometimes assured her he loved her just as she was—as hedid—but she usually responded with that identical sound she had just made. She was his favorite sibling, though he loved them all. He loved Stephanie fiercely and dearly. Sometimes his heart ached for her.
“We will let them hang so they will not need an iron,” he said of the ribbons, “and replace the ones that are damaged or old. I’ll go into the village afterward to purchase new ones. Do you want to come with me?”
“In your curricle?” She jumped to her feet and turned a beaming face his way before smiling outright—her one claim to real beauty. “I do. And I get to choose the colors. You would probably pick black or gray. Or brown.”
“I was planning to go on foot since the shop is no farther than a hop, skip, and jump from here,” he said, and watched her smile fade. “But I suppose we can go by the scenic way, in which case a vehicle will definitely be necessary. The curricle it is, then, Steph, provided Mama does not have a fit of the vapors and forbid it. And you may choose the ribbons.” He laughed as he tried to picture the faces of the villagers—not to mention his mother—if they arrived for the fete to discover black, gray, and brown ribbons fluttering from the maypole.
“Mama does not have vapors, Dev,” she said. “She is not so silly. And she knows you always drive carefully when you have me for a passenger. I wish you would spring the horses sometimes, though. Nick might if I asked, but I know you would not.”
“An old stick-in-the-mud, am I?” he asked her.
“You have a strong sense of responsibility,” she said, steppingtoward him and setting her arms about his waist to hug him, her cheek pressed against his chest. “I sometimeswishyou would say yes, but I am alwaysgladwhen you say no. I can trust you.”
He kissed the top of her head. “Let’s get these ribbons hanging and count how many new ones we will need.”
A strong sense of responsibility.His father had put it a different way last year when Devlin, twenty-one years old and newly down from Oxford with a first-class degree, which he had earned with hard work and years of conscientious studying, had been spending a few months in London to kick up his heels and begin enjoying freedom and adulthood. It was something to which he had looked forward with great eagerness. He would have his father all to himself. Just the two of them. Two men together. His father, whom he had idolized his whole life and tried without much success to emulate, had been delighted to have his company and had encouraged him to sow some wild oats before the time came for him to settle down and marry and set up his nursery.
“And do not let anyone persuade you to do that too early in your life as I did, Dev,” he had added. “Thirty is soon enough.”
Devlin had been uncomfortably aware that both he and Nicholas had been born before their father turned thirty. Did he regret tying himself down with them so soon in life, then?
The earl had introduced his son to his clubs and taken him to Tattersalls and Jackson’s boxing saloon and a fencing club. He had taken him to a fewtonballs and private parties and select gambling houses. He had taken him to Vauxhall Gardens and the theater. After the performance at the theater, which Devlin had watched with avid interest, the earl had taken his son to the greenroom to meet and mingle with the performers.
Devlin had refused his father’s offer to engage the services of one particularly alluring dancer to go to supper with him and—presumably—to bed with him afterward. On another occasion he had refused to be introduced to the female proprietor of an exclusive house that catered to the needs of gentlemen who could afford the superior services of the young ladies who lived there.
His father had clapped him on the shoulder and squeezed while he laughed heartily and regarded his son with an indulgent smile. “You are in danger of becoming a dull dog, Dev,” he had said genially.
Devlin had always longed to be like his father—open and amiable in manner, forever smiling and laughing. Loved by all, adored by his wife and children. Adoring them in return. Alas, it had always been impossible. An easy sociability did not come naturally to Devlin. His love for his family and friends and neighbors ran deep, but so did an inner reserve of manner he had never been able to shake off. And a firm sense of right and wrong and a belief in doing his duty, whether it was studying his hardest at school because his masters asked it of him and his father was paying the bills, or fixing up the maypole each summer because his mother trusted him to do it and it was important that it look fresh and new for their guests. One could not completely change the person one was born to be, it seemed.
A dull dog.
He should have laughed off the words and forgotten them. For his father had not meant any insult. The words had been spoken with humor and affection. Devlin did not doubt his father loved him as much as he loved Nicholas, his second son, who far more nearly resembled him.
He had been unable to forget, however. For those words had been spoken at just the time when a horrible, stomach-churning suspicion had been creeping up on Devlin. His father was meticulous about performing his obligation each spring and taking his place in the House of Lords even though it meant leaving hisfamily and going to London alone. He hated to leave, he protested each year as he hugged them all and even shed a tear or two, and assured them that the coming months would be dreary and endless until he could return for the summer.
Devlin had never doubted his sincerity. But, when he was in London himself, he discovered very quickly that his father did not pine for his home and family in the country while spending all his waking hours in London on House business or moping alone at his town house. Rather, he enjoyed an active, boisterous social life. He was something of a favorite with thetonand was invited everywhere.
He also seemed to be very well known in the greenroom of a certain theater, especially by the actresses and female dancers.
He seemed also to be well acquainted with the proprietor of an elegant house that was too exclusive to be known as a brothel.
And he had encouraged his son and heir to make free with the services offered by both.Sexualservices.
Devlin had not liked that side of his father—which was never in evidence when he was at Ravenswood. He tried very hard not to think about it, perhaps because he was afraid of where his thoughts might lead him. His father after all had had at least one premarital liaison when he was a young man. There was Ben as evidence.
No, Devlin had not wanted to think about it at the time. He had chosen not to think about it since. Which was a bit unlike him. Normally he would talk with his father about anything that bothered him in any way.
Perhaps, he had concluded, he really was just a dull dog.
