Devlin's Soldier - Well Begun

When Arnaud made the announcement that the young man had arrived, Devlin Mountbanc was completely at a loss. So wrapped up was he in the deadly dull business of accounts and estates that the imminent arrival of his dear friend Evelyn's nephew slipped his mind completely.

Thank heavens for Arnaud, as he was a model of efficiency who forgot nothing of what he overheard or snooped into, and so was perfectly prepared for the arrival of one Adrian, son of the stodgy Lord D. Studying his ink-stained fingers and uncovered shirtsleeves ruefully, Devlin decided he was certainly glad someone was.

He sighed. "Send him in, Arnaud, and bring us some sort of refreshment, whatever you have handily available."

Arnaud left, and Devlin stood, preparing to be a gracious, if disheveled host.

The man that opened the door proved himself to be no less disheveled -- too-long hair, wild about his square jaw, jacket unbuttoned, cheeks flushed with wind and the scent of the stables evident. The eyes that met his flashed and challenged with a silent passion -- one blue as water, the other green. "Adrian D., Captain of General Scarlett's Cavalry Brigade at your service, my Lord."

He was given a deep, efficient bow.

Returning the courtesy, he inclined his head politely, moving forward to offer his hand. "A pleasure to meet you, Adrian. May I call you Adrian? And you shall call me Devlin. My close association with your Aunt precludes such formalities as titles."

"Of course, my Lord Devlin." The hand that gripped his was warm, callused, pleasantly roughened. "I cannot express my thanks for your hospitality enough. You are most kind."

"'Twas the least I could do. Please, come and sit down." Devlin gestured to a brace of chairs flanking the fireplace. "My man will be in shortly with something edible, one assumes. How did you find the trip to Yorkshire?"

Devlin studied the young man, who obviously favored his most beautiful aunt rather than his dour father. The eyes were most striking, the hair shining gilt. Really, he was most pleasing of countenance.

The upturned nose wrinkled ever-so slightly. "They attempted to trap me in that velvet-lined cage they name carriage. I stopped ere we left the city and purchased a nag and rode in. The ride was most pleasing, the air fresh and the winds peaceful."

"Ah. The life of a cavalry officer." There was no irony in his statement, none in his mind. A man who knew his own mind was to be admired. "Ah, Arnaud, thank you. It appears, Adrian, that we have tea, spirits, and finger foods."

"Tea sounds most welcome, thank you." Adrian offered him a smile, then moved to help Arnaud arrange the table so he did not have to move from his seat. Those rough hands moved with a surety and a steadiness that was at odds with the man's years, most intriguing.

Crossing one ankle over one knee, Devlin sat back and watched, enjoying the less than subtle play of muscles beneath Adrian's clothing. His dear friend, Adrian's Aunt was even now speaking in his head, putting ideas there begun in her letter and soon forgotten, but now remembered. Wicked woman, how well she imagined his particular proclivities.

Continued in First Section