Page 35 of The Devil Himself
“Grey. In my club again? Are you bored with yours?” Deacon Collingsworth came to stand next to him, his evening dress as pristine as Rys’s, his eyes scanning the crowd at the gaming tables. Ever watchful. Just like him.
“I’m afraid my quarry won’t come to my club, my friend.”
“Ah. I see your brother is losing heavily.”
“He is. So heavily that in recent weeks he tried to sell one of the properties entailed to the title of the marquess.”
“Did he indeed?” Deacon focused in on him, as he had on Daffyd. “Are you here to cause a scene?”
“Not at all. I intend to catch him as he leaves the table.”
“In that case, I wish you well. I can have a room at your disposal. Just ask one of the attendants.”
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. Don’t disrupt my business.” Deacon clapped him on the back, then left him to his vigil.
Daffyd was deep in his cups, losing at cards, and boasting loudly of how soon he would be able to cover any losses if everyone would simply allow him to keep playing.
Bastard.
His hands clenched, and Rys forced himself to breathe, to remain calm and cool-headed. Cold, in fact. That was how he would trip up a killer, not by allowing anger to rule him.
He waited, his patience wearing thin more than once, but finally Daffyd had to leave the table. Most likely he meant simply to relieve himself, but none of his table companions would give a whit if he did not return, so Rys followed, catching the eye of one of Deacon’s men and jerking his head to indicate he needed that room.
The man leaped into action, and he veered around to cut Daffyd off, coming at him from the side and taking him by surprise.
“What the devil!” Daffyd squawked as Rys pushed him, rushing him right into the private room.
“Yes, exactly, brother. The devil himself.”
Daffyd whirled to face him, eyes wide, mouth falling open in shock. “Emrys…”
“Surprise.” He allowed himself to smile, knowing it would look like nothing so much as a wolf baring its teeth.
“What the hell are you doing here? This is not your club!”
“All the better to ambush you. Mr. Collingsworth and I are… friendly rivals. When I told him I needed to see you, he offered his room.” He advanced. Daffyd retreated.
Daffyd held up a hand as if to ward him off. “What do you want?”
“To issue you a warning, brother.” He drawled the last word out as offensively as possible.
Now Daffyd frowned, the urge to bluster no doubt rearing up. He still saw Rys as a boy, no doubt. “About what?”
“About harming young Gareth. About selling off even one inch of Hallowarren land. I cannot prove you had anything to do with Owen’s death. Yet. But by God, if I do find it, I will kill you.”
“Why should you bloody care?” Daffyd snarled. “You never gave a fig for any of us.”
“Hannah is a good woman, and as we all know, Gareth has no choices. He is the innocent in this. You also took a shot at someone outside my club. That involves me.”
Daffyd’s expression went shuttered. “I had nothing to do with that. You mean Lord Angelsey.”
“I do.” He loomed over Daffyd, glad for once that he favored his father and not their delicate mother. “I do not appreciate it.”
“Well, that wasn’t me. Perhaps he has enemies.” That was sneered at him, Daffyd clearly holding Luc in no regard.
“None save you and Arthur, since he is aiding Hannah. He says you threatened him and said if anyone was to marry her, it would be you.”
