Page 6 of The Devil Himself
“Lady Kerrington. She and I grew up together. I trust her.”
“Good. I shall see you again soon.” He left before he could offer even more help. He had promised Owen, many years ago, that if something should happen to him, he would aid Hannah and her children.
And he was trying to live up to that promise.
He turned on one booted heel and headed for the foyer, where the butler handed him his hat and gloves. “Thank you, Lawson. By the by, where is Gareth?”
“His lordship is with his sisters in the playroom, my lord. They are working some sort of dissection.”
Luc assumed that meant a puzzle made of wood and paper, not some hapless animal like a mouse or a bird that the children had found deceased. The governess might object to that.
“Perfect. Thank you. Should Lady Hannah need me, I will be at my club.”
“Very good, my lord.”
He walked to the door, and Luc was on his way down the townhouse steps when he saw Daffyd Grey step out of a carriage and start toward him.
“Angelsey,” Daffyd said curtly, stopping him at the foot of the stoop. “What the devil are you doing here?”
He firmed his mouth into a straight line for a moment, showing his disapproval of the greeting. “Paying my respects to your brother’s widow.”
“Bah. You’re sniffing about her like she’s a bitch in heat.”
“Daffyd! You will not speak so about the lady.” He clenched his hands to keep from grabbing Daffyd’s cravat in one hand and shaking him.
“She is my sister-in-law, and I am the guardian of her son’s sizeable fortune. I will speak as I please.” He got a sneer that made him nearly blind with anger.
How had this man come from the same family as Owen and Rys? How? Their father had been a stern old fool, but he hadn’t been… dissolute. Not like the middle two sons.
Daffyd had been afforded the military commission Rys had so desperately wanted, and he had been sent down from it in disgrace for striking a superior officer. He was simply a ne’er-do-well and a wastrel.
“And if I were interested in her after her mourning?” He wasn’t, but Luc had a burning curiosity to see Daffyd’s reaction.
“Don’t even attempt it, Angelsey. If anyone is to marry the bitch, it will be me.”
Stunned, he almost rocked back on his heels. He began to understand the depth of Daffyd’s depravity. Marry the widow and possibly somehow dispose of the only boy child, and Daffyd would have the title neatly sewn up. Dastardly, but effective.
“She won’t have you,” he pointed out.
“She won’t have a choice. Those widow’s weeds protect her now, but they won’t forever.” Daffyd brushed past him, shoulder glancing off his and forged into the house.
Picking up his hat where it had fallen on the ground and dusting it off, Luc changed his mind about where he was headed.
It looked as though he needed to pay another visit to the Devil’s Playground.
Luc had to see Rys, had to convince the man this was dire. He needed the goddamn help, because he had no idea what to do next.
Four
“My lord, you have a visitor.” His butler accosted him in his study, interrupting his glass of brandy and his novel, which he’d been trying to enjoy despite his racing thoughts focusing on his twice-damned family.
Rys rolled his eyes. “Jarvis, how many times have I told you not to call me that?” he asked his butler.
“Ever since you hired me, my lord. However, you are the son of a marquess, and thus, a lord. And I must address you as such.”
“God save me from old servants.”
Jarvis had been a footman in his father’s household when he’d been a boy, and when he had sent ‘round to the service to procure a butler, Jarvis had turned up, stating that he had been waiting for just this job for an age.
