She thanked him and smiled at him. "Thank you, Prince. Good night."
He nodded his head in response. "Goodnight Miss Devonny." And he watched her slip back in the house and shut the door quietly behind her.
*** Devonny rose early and washed quickly before slipping into her gown and tying on her apron. She scooped her dark locks into a loose bun and placed the mobcap atop her head.
She went into the kitchen where Moira was readying preparations for breakfast. Moira handed her a bowl of steaming oats. "Eat up, child. You'll need some nourishment before getting started today. Not much to do really, but a good breakfast will help."
After eating she rose to help Moira with the cooking. When it was finished, Moira loaded a tray and handed into Devonny's hands and gave her a gentle push towards the door.
Devonny walked across the foyer and into the dining room. She put the tray down onto the pristine white linen table cloth and artfully began to arrange plates of fruit, breads and meats. She carefully set two places at opposite ends of the table, neatly laying out the assorted china and flatware before making her way back to the kitchen. She could hear footsteps descending the stairs from the upper level as the door closed behind her. Moira handed her a pot of tea and shooed her back out.
Devonny took a deep breath and straightened her shoulders. She would feign detachment even if she did not feel it. The two men were in their seats at opposite ends of the table when she entered. She went first to Gabriel, him being the oldest, and silently filled his tea cup. She then went to Eli and did the same. She then strode to mid-table and stepped backwards a few paces until she was standing near the wall, waiting lest they make some request of her, her gaze on the toes of her kid boots.
Gabriel glanced up as she entered the room. Her back was ramrod straight, her lovely face set in grim determination. She looked as if she were about to walk the plank and was determined to do so with impeccable grace. He struggled to keep the slight amused grin from his face. His brother, he noted with a twinge of indignation, was watching her in open fascination even as she stepped back to wait upon them.
Gabriel frowned deeply and looked to his meal and the morning lists from the ships that had come into dock that morning. But his attention could not remain focused. His gaze kept wandering to the girl standing almost against the wall, her hands folded in front of her, her head bent and he realized that he hated seeing her that way. He did not like the dark garb nor her somber expression. He wanted to see her in bright colors in a gown cut to show off the graceful line of her shoulders and the gentle swell of her bosom. He wanted to see her smile, hear her laugh. He gritted his teeth. This would not do at all.
"Miss Devonny," he leaned back in his chair, his gaze intent on her. She stepped forward and lifted her golden gaze to his and once again he found himself feeling unsettled by the very small gesture of her lifting her eyes to meet his own. He found himself considering their strange color against the honey-brown color of her skin and the dark fringe of lashes that framed them to perfection. His gaze absently drifted to her mouth. By God, she had the most beautiful mouth he'd ever seen. Her lips were moving.
"Sir?"
He blinked and cleared his throat. "You need not wait on us hand and foot Devonny. Should we require you, we will send for you."
She merely nodded mutely, her dark lashes sweeping downward, dropped a small curtsy and silently left the room.
Gabriel's frown deepened as he sat back in his seat and continued perusing the lists.
Eli watched the exchange with interest. ***
As Moira had told her, Devonny was able to finish the majority of her chores by early afternoon. And as such she would have some time to herself before the young masters returned home and she was expected to help with the preparation of dinner.
Devonny chose to sit in the rocking chair on the porch off the kitchen with her book of Shakespeare's sonnets. The day was bright and lovely, a rare occasion for London, and the air was warm. She loosed the top buttons of her bodice and took the mobcap from her hair, unwinding her bun and shaking loose the dark captive curls to fall about her shoulders. She leaned back in the chair, her legs tucked underneath her fingering the well worn pages of her book. It was how Gabriel found her.
So engrossed was she in her reading that she did not notice Gabriel entering the back gate and stabling his own horse. He had been about to enter the house through the French doors led to the parlor when he saw her there.
She did not seem cognizant of him at all and so he found himself loathe to move lest he disturb the vision she presented. She was yet dressed in black as she sat in the chair, her legs tucked beneath her, but she had unbuttoned her bodice which parted to reveal the smooth column of her throat. Her dark hair was unbound and falling over her shoulders and against the black cloth he found that her hair was not black as he had thought but a deep brown streaked with auburn where the sun touched it. Her face was as calm as he had seen it, a small smile curving upon her lips as she read, her eyes bright with amusement and something else.
She turned held the book with one hand turning the page with the other. She then brought her fingertips to her lips, as her lips moved as she read the words softly, too softly for him to make out. A soft flush had stolen upon her cheeks and still she smiled that small mysterious smile. What the devil was she reading?
He stepped silently up onto the porch. She still did not notice him. He cleared his throat she started, her mouth forming a silent 'o' as she stood abruptly, the book falling to her feet. "Master Davenport," her words came out in a rush.
He smiled faintly at her unease. In some small way it pleasured him to know that he had unsettled her in at least some small fraction of the way in which she unsettled him by her very presence. He stepped closer to her, his voice softening though his dark gaze had lost none of its intensity. "What are you reading that makes you blush so Devonny?" he questioned as he bent to retrieve the fallen book which lay open, its spine facing up. "Some silly novel?" The cover was so worn he could not make out the words. He thumbed through the pages. She was looking at him curiously and he was standing very close to her, he realized, but he didn't wish to withdraw just yet.
He carefully turned the pages, "Shakespeare?" his voice was soft and tinged with a teasing quality. "Is it Shakespeare who makes you flush so lovely a color?"
She was still looking at him in that silent considering way of hers, but when she opened her mouth to speak she stumbled over her words "I--I..." and her voice trailed off.
Gabriel grinned rakishly at her and Devonny thought she might faint. He stepped closer to her, so close that she could feel the heat of him through her dress. He slid one arm around her waist, holding her that she could not run as part of her mind bid her while the other begged her to stay. He gazed down into her stunned upturned face. The book of Shakespeare was still in his free hand, dangling at his side as he opened his mouth and his deep baritone washed over her like honey over stones.
'Let me not to the marriage of true minds Admit impediments; love is not love Which alters when it alteration finds, Or bends with the remover to remove: O, no, it is an ever-fixèd mark, That looks on tempests and is never shaken; It is the star to every wand'ring bark, Whose worth's unknown, although his heighth be taken. Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks Within his bending sickle's compass come; Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks, But bears it out even to the edge of doom. If this be error and upon me proved, I never writ, nor no man ever loved.'
