Page 32 of The Secrets of Lord Grayson Child
Hoping for the best, he smiled and tapped Horry’s nose, which surprised her, then made her chortle, then he looked down at her importuning brothers. “Yes, I rode over on Smoke and Mist.”
“He’s in our stable?” Spencer, the elder, asked, eyes wide.
“Well, it’s a bit cold to leave him wandering the lawns, so yes, I left him with Wallace.”
Immediately, Spencer and Rupert turned identical beseeching looks on their parents.
“Can wepleasego and see Smoke and Mist?” Rupert begged.
Devlin shot a questioning look at Therese. She nodded, and the boys cheered.
Devlin held up a finger. “But you can only go near if Wallace is with you. If he can’t watch over you, you are to come straight back.”
“Yes, Papa,” the pair sang.
Devlin held the boys’ gazes for an instant, then nodded. “All right. Off you go.”
With an exuberant whoop, the pair thundered off.
“But be back in time for your luncheon,” Therese called after them.
She met Gray’s eyes as she reached for Horry, and Devlin handed the little girl over. “At the moment, for those two, horses trump every other topic.”
Gray smiled. “Devlin and I were the same.”
“Into our late teens,” Devlin confirmed.
“Good Lord!” Therese looked struck. “Is that what I have to look forward to?”
Gray and Devlin grinned.
Balancing Horry on her hip, Therese humphed. “Let me find Horry’s nursemaid. Don’t say anything interesting until I return.”
She headed for the door, and Devlin waved Gray to the comfortable old sofa and dropped into a well-worn armchair opposite.
Being very old friends and mindful of Therese’s admonition—knowing she definitely meant it—while they waited for her to return, they exchanged comments about the road from London and the likelihood of more snow.
Wintry light washed through the mullioned windows, bathing the scene in a pearl-gray glow. The warmth from the fire was soothing, reminding Gray of afternoons long gone. He glanced around. “I have a lot of fond memories of this room.”
Devlin nodded. “We spent a lot of our childhood here.”
“Playing and plotting.” Gray smiled. “Good times.”
Devlin smiled back.
Therese returned, sans Horry, and sank onto the other end of the sofa. “So what brings you here? Your mother wasn’t expecting you, so I take it something specific has brought you our way.”
Gray sobered. “You surmise correctly.” He proceeded to explain about the exposé. It transpired that Therese had seen the notice but, as he had, had assumed it referred to him.
He shook his head. “No—or rather yes, it would apply to me, but in fact, the intended target was your brother, Martin.”
“Really?” Therese stared at Gray, then shifted her gaze to her husband. “I knew Martin had ‘made his fortune,’ so to speak, but I had no idea he was that wealthy.”
Devlin tipped his head. “I know no more than you, but I suspected that might be the case.” He looked at Gray. “Did you know?”
“Not exactly, but given his stated direction business-wise, I did wonder, enough that learning he was the target instead of me wasn’t a huge surprise.”
Therese was frowning. “If none of us knew of Martin’s wealth, how didThe London Crierlearn of it?”
