Page 73 of The Games Lovers Play
Somehow, love had worked its magic and handed her all her heart had, for so very long, secretly desired.
The glory of that welled and washed through her, leaving joy more profound than she’d ever felt—ever dreamed could be—in its wake.
Smiling softly, feeling that joy sink to her bones, a tangible and reassuring presence, she pushed back the covers and rose, ready to face the day. Her first day of true married life.
Later that morning, Devlin sat behind the desk in his study and diligently worked through the reports from his estates. The harvests were largely in, and he needed to get a firm idea of the productivity they’d achieved before starting to work with his estate managers on their plans for next year.
Even while he tallied and collated, again and again, he found himself smiling. Besottedly. That really wasn’t his style—or at least, it hadn’t been. Apparently, it now was, even though he hadn’t set eyes on Therese since he’d left her room an hour after daybreak.
The hand holding his pen paused, hovering over his sheet of calculations as the memories rolled through him. Finally—finally—he’d been able to experience the joy of waking his wife in the most pleasurable of ways.
She’d been most appreciative, which had set the seal on his delight. On his happiness.
The word gave him pause. Was he truly happy? Happy in his marriage?
He hadn’t ever imagined applying the word in that way, but he had to admit it fitted. The quiet delight that coursed through his veins and left him feeling as if he was glowing was, indeed, happiness.
The ink had dried on the nib. He laid the pen aside and, accepting that he was thoroughly distracted, sat back and allowed his mind to roam the re-formed landscape of his and Therese’s marriage. What in their day-to-day lives might change?
Of course, from now on, he would sleep the entire night beside her, but other than that, there was a limit to how much time a couple married for five years could spend in each other’s pockets, no matter their inclination. And he definitely didn’t want to shock the staff, especially because, generally speaking, the smooth running of the household was Therese’s responsibility, not his.
Once they removed to the Priory, expectations of behavior would be rather more relaxed. He should plan on making whatever changes were possible there, before they returned to Alverton House in early spring. Until then…
He’d breakfasted as he usually did, earlier than Therese ever appeared downstairs. Ladies always took ages over their morning toilettes, and he liked to commence his day with a ride in the park, preferably before there were too many others about. That morning, he’d spent half an hour galloping along Rotten Row, then had returned to the house and repaired to his study to deal with estate matters.
He glanced at the clock on the mantelpiece. It was only just after eleven o’clock. He scanned the letters before him; he should be finished in time to join Therese for luncheon—perhaps even in time to go up to the nursery and indulge himself by watching her with the children while the imps ate. Luckily, he hadn’t arranged to meet James and Cedric or any of his other friends that day, but as the week rolled on, he’d have to show his face at sufficient gentlemen’s functions to avoid setting tongues wagging.
Despite all commonly espoused beliefs, in his experience, the gentlemen’s clubs were as much hotbeds of gossip as any grande dame’s drawing room.
Lately, he’d been scheduling business meetings primarily in the mornings or the later afternoons, freeing him to spend more time with Therese if the opportunity presented; he resolved to continue that practice, more or less matching his schedule to hers.
He pondered that plan, such as it was, and decided it was a reasonable start. Until he learned how Therese felt about him spending more time with her, he shouldn’t push too hard.
His gaze returned to his yet-to-be-completed tally of grains produced by his farms. Grimacing, he picked up the pen, cleaned the nib, dipped it into the inkwell, and continued his calculations.
Some time later, Portland tapped and entered, ferrying in the morning’s mail on a silver salver.
“Ah—thank you, Portland.” Devlin laid down his pen and, after Portland had placed the small stack of letters on the blotter, reached for them. “I’ve several matters pending that I’m hoping to wrap up in the next few days.”
“After the exhibition ends, my lord?”
Devlin nodded. “Just so.”
“I hope the news is good, my lord.” With that, Portland bowed and departed.
The first letter was from the manager of Devlin’s hunting box, reminding him of an earlier discussion about increasing the size of his stable there. He set that aside for further deliberation, then picked up the other letters and leafed through them.
Examining one simple envelope, he grunted with satisfaction. After pushing the other letters to one side, he reached for his letter knife, turned the folded paper over, and broke the nondescript seal.
He spread the single sheet, read the close lines inscribed by a cramped hand, then slowly smiled. “Excellent!” Still smiling, he leaned back in his chair. “The timing couldn’t be better.”
He tapped the edge of the sheet on the blotter. Everything was falling into place. “I can call at the bank after lunch, then go on from there.”
He scanned the letter again, then folded it and slid it into his pocket. Briefly, he glanced through the other letters, confirming none required immediate attention, then with his interest in finishing his calculations reinvigorated, returned to the estate reports.
Early that afternoon, in an excellent mood after enjoying an hour of her husband’s company over the luncheon table, Therese decided that she really ought to start acquiring items for the children’s Christmas gifts.
With that goal in mind, she summoned the town carriage and, judging that Noah’s Ark’s wares would be more suited to the boys in following years, directed Munns to drive to the Strand. A particular toymaker whose wooden wares the boys found enthralling had his shop on the south side of the street, by the corner of Beaufort Street.
