Page 54 of The Devil Himself
“How did you know it was Arthur and not Daffyd?” Rys murmured.
Gareth growled a little, such a young marquess in training. “Uncle Daffyd is a fool, and he thinks he can marry Mother, but he has never really been cruel to me. Arthur used to pinch me or hit me when no one was looking.”
The ragethat rose up in Rys at Gareth’s statement surprised him. He thought he had long since put that feeling aside when it came to his brothers, but he could remember Daffyd and Arthur tormenting him just that way. Especially Arthur.
Daffyd had been more likely to sneer at him and lord it over him that he was the next in line after Owen, but Arthur had been sneaky, always blaming things on Rys that were not his fault, leaving bruises all over him when he was too young to defend himself.
As soon as he’d been old enough and strong enough, he had given Arthur a thorough beating, and that had ended it. But the fact that an adult Arthur would do such a thing to young Gareth made him clench his hands into fists.
Luc turned and touched his arm, his expression carefully neutral. “We should get moving.”
“We should. By now, Joe should have a carriage procured for us.” A hired carriage would be just the thing. It would be anonymous compared to something that he could borrow from any acquaintance he or Luc might have in the surrounding countryside. Better to be safe.
“Where are we going?” Young Gareth looked firm in his resolve, his jaw clenched, his eyes flashing fire. Rys understood. It was far from easy to be a Grey when one was that young, but they learned early to take it in stride.
“Hallowarren House in Kent. Your lady mother is safe; she’s staying with a dowager countess in London, but she is very difficult to get to, and a friend of ours is watching her.” He knew Gareth had to be worried about Hannah.
“Lord Warrington is assuring her safety,” Luc said.
Gareth nodded. “Excellent. Lord Warrington is a good man.”
Another stab hit at his gut when he realized both Luc and Julian knew his nephew, but he didn’t. It wasn’t by choice. It never had been. He’d been forcibly thrust out of the family. No matter what they did to him, they were still his family, and somehow the boy who still lived inside of him was hurt that they didn’t love him enough to keep him.
“Come along, Gareth. Lord Angelsey is right. We need to get moving.”
He pushed all of the inconvenient emotions away, letting his heart close up again. He must protect Gareth. That was the job, and when it was done, he would probably never see any of his family again.
Rys told himself that suited him just fine.
Twenty-Two
Luc sat on the cracked leather squabs of the hired carriage as it rocked across the road and watched Rys from his slitted eyelids. He was trying to convince Rys and Gareth he was asleep, but he had a feeling it wasn’t working.
Still, he was wary of Rys’s mood. Ever since they had retrieved Gareth from the school and started off for Kent, Rys had been in a foul temper, and he didn’t know whether it was because the man was having to deal with his family in the first place or if it was because of the things that Gareth had said, which were few and far between but sprinkled with terrible information about Arthur and Daffyd.
Finally, after Rys kicked his boot more than nudging him, he gave up the pretense and opened his eyes, smiling at young Gareth. “Are you hungry? There’s a coaching inn not too far from here where we’re going to have to stop and change horses. Perhaps we could get something to eat?” He raised an eyebrow at Rys. Maybe some food would improve Rys’s mood.
“I think we can take the time to do so,” Rys agreed, arms still folded over his broad chest, his mouth a tight line.
For the first time since they had taken him from school, Gareth smiled. “I would like that. I didn’t get to break my fast this morning, and I am rather hungry.”
Gareth’s stomach growled then as if to emphasize that he was more thanratherhungry.
Rys chuckled, and Gareth flushed deep red. “I beg your pardon,” he said.
“Why on earth would you beg our pardon for that, lad? You’re hungry; your body is telling you that it’s time to stop and fill that empty cavern of a belly.”
“My father would have said it was unseemly.” Gareth picked at his school robe, which he still wore. “The future marquess should not succumb to such socially inappropriate displays of bodily dishumor.”
“Oh, what a load of claptrap.” Rys unfolded his arms and held his hands out palms up as if to say what on earth.
Luc had to laugh, because Rys was not given to such dramatics. That was more Julian’s line. He was clearly trying to put Gareth at ease. “There’s nothing wrong with letting people know you can’t tell your body what to do.”
“My father had a great many rules.” Gareth sighed. “I’m afraid I wasn’t very good at following most of them.”
“His father before him did as well,” Rys murmured.
Luc leaned forward, his elbows on his knees so he could catch Gareth’s gaze. “Your father was one of my best friends, but he was very concerned with propriety. While it’s important for you to know what society expects of you, it’s also important for you to just be a boy while you can. Don’t forget that, please. I know your mother feels the same way.”
