Remember Love (Ravenswood #1)(17)

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 one of 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?”

“It has been enough to bring me out in a cold sweat, if you want the truth of it,” Nicholas had said. “Though that sounds a bit disrespectful to Gwyn. I like her, dash it all.”

“I daresay she grows a bit clammy too at the thought of being forced to follow you into mud and mayhem,” Ben had said.

“So you have put an end to it.” Devlin had straightened up too and wiped his hands on an old rag.

“We have agreed to more or less stay away from each other until I go away in September,” Nicholas had told them. “I don’t like it, but . . . Well, people can be very stupid.”

So she was free. It was the thought that had hammered at Devlin’s brain for the rest of the day, busy as he had been with the arrival of grandparents and aunts and uncles and cousins and everyone wanting to talk at once.