Page 605 of From Rakes to Riches

Rake scanned the overcrowded room. Artemis would be here, socializing with peers, listening to and spreading turf gossip. Then relaying it all tomorrow morning to Rake over the breakfast table.

Ahead, hip cocked against a wood railing, a figure just caught Rake’s eye. A man—large, immaculately dressed, raven-haired. A man not known to Rake by name, but one he knew by sight.

Notaman, but rathertheman he’d spotted in the taproom of The Running Horse last night, seated at a corner table with Gemma.

A voice came at Rake from behind. “And how do you like your chances today, Your Grace?”

He glanced around to find Lady Beatrix staring up at him, mischievous, vulpine smile affixed to her mouth. “That man,” he said, jutting his chin to indicate the man from last night. The one with piercing blue eyes and presently surrounded by no fewer than five ladies—all married. “Who is he?”

A feeling churned in Rake’s gut.

He wouldn’t like the answer.

He knew that much.

“Ah,” began Lady Beatrix, clearly drawing out the moment for her own amusement. It was no wonder she and Artemis were the best of friends. Birds of a feather, those two. “That would be the notorious Lord Devil.”

Rake’s stomach plummeted to his feet.

Deverill.

The light of interest entered Lady Beatrix’s eye. “Are you so well acquainted to warrant a face like thunder?”

“I’ve never met the man.” Rake needed to get himself under control, but it felt an impossibility. He didn’t know Deverill, but…

Gemma did.

Gemma knew this man who attracted every woman within a ten-mile radius…

This man with a newfound interest in horseracing…

This man with a spy in every stable in England.

“Well, I’ll leave you to it, then,” said Lady Beatrix. “Best of luck to Hannibal.” She tossed the words over her shoulder before disappearing into the crowd.

Others moved to fill her place and have a jolly word with the Duke of Rakesley. But after a single glance at his face, they pivoted in the opposite direction.

Gemma knew the man who had a spy in every stable in London.

Gemma had been in that man’s company only last night.

Gemma…

Was Deverill’s spy.

The knowledge sank deep inside Rake and sprouted tangled roots.

Breath refused to enter or leave his lungs. Stunned, that was how he felt.

He felt something more, as well.

He’d been a fool for a woman.

Again.

Of their own volition, his feet took a determined step forward, then another, as an idea seized him. He was going to confront Deverill.

“Brother,” came a voice behind him.

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