Page 64 of The Devil Himself
“Warrington may be off the hook with Lady Hallowarren, but you are not with me,” Deacon told him. “You owe me at least three favors.” Deacon lounged indolently in his chair, which was pushed back from the table, his booted feet crossed in front of him like those of a big cat, seemingly at rest but always alert and ready for some sort of trouble.
Rys waved a hand. “You know that you must only come to me and ask or send word, and I will do what I can.” He paid his debts, and he owed Deacon a great one. The man had been an enormous help in their quest to keep Gareth and Hannah safe. None of them were spies or military men; they were just men, and they had made mistakes, but they had managed the task at hand.
“So, who is in control of young Gareth's fortune now?” Julian asked. “Naturally, he must still have someone to guide him until he is of majority.”
“Hannah is a very practical woman, and quite able to run his finances with the help of their man of affairs. They also have new solicitors and bankers.” Rys was glad of that, because he really didn't want the responsibility, although he had made several investments on Gareth's behalf to try to recoup some of the funds that Arthur and Daffyd had gone through in the short amount of time they had access to the Hallowarren money.
Deacon snorted. “You simply don't want to be forced to deal with all that nonsense of the title.”
“I never have. I have my own business to run, and I am not interested in being a member of the Ton any more than I ever was.” He shuddered, making a point of winking at Luc. “No insult intended to the lords present.”
“None taken. But, really, you're so very good at it.” Julian chuckled and waved a hand in an imperious manner. “You can be so high and mighty.”
“Don't make me beat you, Julian.” Rys growled it out. “I will do it.”
“Promise?” Julian’s waggling eyebrows and laughter made them all smile.
“No.” Luc spoke up with a mock glare. “He doesn't promise you anything. He's not for you, Julian.”
“Sadly, I do know that. I will have to find somewhere else to take my amusement tonight.” Julian inclined his head regally. “Thank you for dinner, gentlemen, but I think I am going to go try my luck on the gaming floor. All is well that ends well, after all, and I am quite glad that I am no longer engaged in skullduggery with all of you. I'm really not suited to it. My nerves, you know, are quite delicate.” He threw back the rest of his drink and slammed the glass down before leaving them with a trail of laughter and citrusy cologne.
“I swear, Warrington is nothing but trouble.” Deacon also finished his drink. “I should get back to my own club, my lords. I'll be calling in those favors, though, Grey. You may be certain.”
“Give the devil his due, Collingsworth. I will do my duty by my debt.” Rys reached over to shake Deacon’s hand, and he thought perhaps he and Deacon could be friends, if the fates allowed it.
“I'm sure you will.” Deacon stood, grabbing his cloak to swirl around him, making him look like a highwayman of old. He raised a hand, then strode out of the room.
Luc turnedto smile at Rys. “Alone again. I could begin to get accustomed to this.”
“As could I, love.” But Rys remained serious, not smiling back.
A little chill or worry went through him. “What is it?”
“Hmmm? Oh, nothing dire. I was just wondering how we should do this.”
“I—” He was at a loss for a moment. “Is how we’re doing things not working?”
“Well, one assumes that when Damien is home for the holidays and for the summer, you’ll either be going to the country, or we shall have to meet here at the club, yes?”
Luc blinked, feeling off balance. “I— Yes. I suppose so. I have no intention of sneaking you into my home through the servants’ entrance and making you feel like a secret. You are no man’s mistress or harlot.”
Rys nodded. “I appreciate that.”
“What brought this on?” Luc asked, his heart pounding a bit.
Rys set his drink aside and held out a hand to him. They met in the middle between their two chairs, and Rys pulled him close, kissing him with great care.
His lips tingled when they pulled apart.
“I have no wish to compromise your position in society, but I find that I am not willing to be without you at night any more than is strictly necessary.” Rys stroked his cheek.
“Then we will divide our time accordingly. My home, just enough to make sure my servants see me about. Yours when we want to be loud. The club when my son is in Town. And you can stay with us at the country estate whenever you please. I often had Owen and Julian down to hunt or to rusticate.” He swayed against Rys, his body lighting up from head to toe.
“That sounds equitable.” Rys led him off to the private area behind the sitting room they’d been in, where lay the big bed he’d recovered in from being shot lay. “Though I’m not certain the devil rusticates.”
Luc laughed, delighted. “In the country, you can simply be Rys, then.”
“Ah, yes. I think that will suit me, love.” Rys pressed him down on the bed, then tugged off Luc’s boots and started in on his evening kit. “But he will always be there, a part of me. No matter what.”
