Page 16 of The Devil Himself
“Yes, my lord.” Finley began gathering up ledgers once he scribbled a few notes, signaling the end of the meeting.
“Is that it, Finley?”
“Yes, my lord. Oh, and young Master Gareth is on his way back to school with the family coach and the two footmen you hired personally.”
“Excellent. Thank you.” He knew that Sauce Box Joe was also on duty. He had received two reports from the man already.
“You are welcome. I shall see you in a fortnight.”
“Yes, of course. Good afternoon, Finley.”
“My lord.”
Finley bowed and left, so Luc snapped the accounts book closed, sitting back to put his feet up on the edge of his desk. Usually sitting in his study, with its gleaming dark wood and leather seating, left him a feeling of satisfaction. Of work well done.
Today, he was simply restless.
A soft knock sounded, and he sighed, putting his feet down so he was not being rude. “Come.”
His butler, a middle-aged man named Buckley, entered at his call. “My lord. Cook would like to know if you will be at home to dine this evening.”
He paused, thinking of Rys and the damned oysters. “I think I will dine at my club. Please tell cook she’s free as a bird this evening.”
Buckley’s lips twitched. Mrs. Buckley was the cook, after all.
“Very good, my lord.”
“None of you need wait up for me, in fact. I might be out all night.”
“Very good, my lord.” Buckley sketched a slight bow, but his smile was wide and pleased. “Good afternoon.”
“Thank you, Buckley.” He rose, striding out of the room and up the stairs, calling to his valet. “Collins, come help me dress for supper, and then you may have the night off.”
“Thank you, my lord. That’s very generous.”
“Is it?” He chuckled. Luc liked to keep his staff happy. “Well, good for me, eh?”
Collins laughed softly. “Indeed. Are you requiring evening clothes?”
“Just in case, yes.”
His valet set to work, and while it was a bit early for full evening kit, he could just sit in the club library until supper and read.
It would take his mind off Rys Grey and his hard cock.
He hoped.
“Call for the carriage for me, will you?”
“Yes, my lord.” Collins left him once he was dressed, and he splashed on a bit of scent, the pleasant mix of bergamot and orange blossom water his favorite.
Rys smelled of sandalwood and citrus, and it made his nose twitch just to think of it.
When he entered the carriage, he told his coachman, “To my club, please.” He needed the distraction, after all.
But halfway there, as his carriage moved through the crush of traffic, he changed his mind. There had been a letter among his correspondence today, the paper heavy and expensive, the handwriting stark and masculine, inviting him to become a member of the Devil’s Playground.
Rys had some sort of motive, and he wasn’t certain what it was, but he was going to take the man up on his offer. If he was to sit and play cards, why not do it someplace interesting?
