Devil's Daughter (The Ravenels #5) - Lisa Kleypas Page 0,25
would overflow from the house to the gardens, where rented folding tables and camp chairs had been set up. Musicians had been hired for the ceremony and breakfast, and an incredible amount of champagne had been ordered. The event had cost a bloody fortune. Thankfully that was Devon’s concern, not his.
After brushing his teeth and combing back his damp hair, West went downstairs. Later, with the assistance of Devon’s valet, Sutton, he would shave and put on his wedding attire and morning coat. For now, he had to make certain everything was proceeding as planned.
Devon was the only person in the morning room, sitting at one of the round tables with a page or two of notes and a cup of coffee. Ironically, even though he didn’t usually arise at this hour, he looked fresh and rested, whereas West felt tired and irritable.
His older brother looked up from his notes and smiled. “Good morning.”
“What are you so bloody pleased about?” West went to the sideboard and helped himself to coffee from a steaming silver urn.
“After today, Cassandra will be the only unmarried sister left.”
Not long ago, without warning, Devon had inherited a wreck of an estate with its finances in shambles, as well as the responsibility for two hundred tenants, an aging staff of fifty servants, and three young, unworldly Ravenel sisters. He could have easily sold everything that wasn’t entailed and razed the manor house to the ground. He could have told everyone who lived at Eversby Priory—including the Ravenel sisters—to fend for themselves.
However, for reasons West would never entirely understand, Devon had taken on the overwhelming burden. With hard work and some luck, he had managed to stop the estate’s downward spiral. Now the manor house was in the process of restoration, their balance sheet was in order, and the farms yields would actually turn a small profit this year. Helen, the oldest sister, had married Rhys Winterborne, who owned a department-store empire, and Pandora was, improbably, about to marry the heir to a dukedom.
“You’ve worried over those girls for two years, haven’t you?” West asked. “A damn sight more than their own father and brother ever did. You’ve done well by them, Devon.”
“As have you.”
West responded with a snort of amusement. “I’m the one who told you to wash your hands of the entire mess and walk away.”
“But you agreed to help anyway. You took on more grueling work than anyone else, including me. I could argue that you’ve done the greater part of saving the estate.”
“Good God. Let’s not make too much of some half-competent land management.”
“The land is the estate. Without it, the family name and the earldom are meaningless. Because of you, we may turn a profit for the first time in a decade. And by some miracle you’ve managed to drag some of the tenants into the era of modern agriculture.”
“Kicking and screaming the entire way,” West added dryly. He sat beside his brother and glanced at the notes. “The broken pew in the chapel has been repaired—you can cross that off the list. The keg of caviar arrived yesterday. It’s in the icehouse. I don’t know whether the extra camp chairs are here yet. I’ll ask Sims.” He paused to drink half his coffee in one swallow. “Where’s Kathleen? Still abed?”
“Are you joking? She’s been awake for hours. At the moment she’s with the housekeeper, showing deliverymen where to set the flower arrangements.” A fond smile crossed Devon’s lips as he rolled the pencil against the tabletop with the flat of his hand. “You know my wife—every detail has to be perfect.”
“It’s like staging a production at St. James’s Music Hall. Without, sadly, the chorus girls in pink tights.” West drained the rest of his coffee. “My God, will this day never end?”
“It’s only six o’clock in the morning,” Devon pointed out.
They both sighed.
“I’ve never thanked you properly for marrying Kathleen at the registrar’s office,” West commented. “I want you to know how much I enjoyed it.”
“You weren’t there.”
“That’s why I enjoyed it.”
Devon’s lips twitched. “I was glad not to have to wait,” he said. “But had there been more time, I wouldn’t have minded going through a more elaborate ceremony for Kathleen’s sake.”
“Please. Shovel that manure in someone else’s direction.”
Devon grinned and pushed back from the table, taking his cup to the sideboard for more coffee. “I thought last night went well,” he remarked over his shoulder. “You and Lady Clare appeared to hit it off.”