Page 23 of The Devil Himself (The Devil You Know #1)

Eton College was a sprawling, prestigious boarding school, and they had a rigid schedule that they didn’t take kindly to being interrupted. Thankfully, he and Rys managed to get to the office of the headmaster before classes began, wherein Luc got to watch Rys act like the son of a marquess he was.

“I’m here to take my nephew home,” Rys told the fellow after introductions had been made, who looked somewhat sleepy in his hastily-donned attire and academic robes.

The man had a thin, bony face with high cheekbones and a long nose that he was practiced at looking down. “Are you really? Why is that?”

“Because there’s been a family emergency.”

The headmaster scoffed. “What, another one? He needs to keep to his education.”

Rys drew himself up, fire flashing in his eyes, and Luc was not ashamed to admit that the sight aroused him. Not only was this the devil himself, Rys was also every inch a lord of the Ton, whether he admitted it or not. The combination fired his blood, undeniably heady to him.

“Yes, another one, though by all rights he should still be in mourning and at home. I fear I feel no need to explain myself to you further. I am his uncle. I am here to take him. You will release him to me.”

“You are not the same uncle that I have dealings with.” The complaint came out as nearly a nasally whine. “I do not know you, my lord.”

Rys raised one coal-black eyebrow. “I assume you mean my brother, Daffyd Grey. He will no longer be involved in Gareth’s affairs. He cannot be trusted with the heir, and is, in fact, on his way to the continent.”

The man’s watery blue eyes widened, and there was something about his expression that suggested he was excited to be perhaps the first person to get wind of a juicy bit of gossip. “Not trusted?”

“Neither he nor my other brother, Arthur Grey, are dealing with Gareth’s affairs.

I am here at Gareth’s mother’s behest. Lady Hallowarren is worried about him and wants me to bring him home so that he can be with her during this trying time.

He should only be gone a few days at the most. I’m sure you understand.

” That clipped aristocratic tone brooked absolutely no argument, and the man nodded and bowed and scraped.

“Of course, my lord. Forgive me for?—”

Rys allowed a tight smile, oozing charm suddenly. “There’s no need to apologize, my good man. I understand that you have not had dealings with me previously, but from now on, it will be my man of affairs who handles all of Gareth’s necessities with the school.”

“Of course, of course. Just have him contact me directly.”

Luc fought not to roll his eyes. This was exactly the kind of blowhard he had dealt with his entire school career and was now dealing with for his son’s as well. The men in charge of educating their children often seemed too fond of power.

“Naturally. We men of influence need to find common ground with one another, do we not?” Rys asked.

Only Luc stood close enough to hear the grinding of Rys’s back teeth when he said this.

The man all but fell over himself. “Precisely. Let me call for your young man.”

“Thank you. It is a matter of some urgency.”

The headmaster scurried to find someone to send off for Gareth. “We will have them help him pack a?—”

“Just a few days’ worth of clothing for the travel. We have everything else he needs.”

With another officious little bow, the man practically ran from the room.

“That was rather imposing of you,” Luc murmured.

“Did you like it?” Rys turned that smoky stare on him, a tiny smile on his lips.

“I did. You play the lord well.”

“Ah, but I am the lord of the underworld, my dear.” Rys pulled out his watch and flipped it open. “I think we’re doing well, but I want to get back on the road.”

“We’re going to the house in Kent?” Luc knew the marquessate had many manor homes under its umbrella, but Kent was by far the closest to London, and was only just over a day by carriage from Eton.

“Yes. Should I send word to Julian to join us there with Hannah in tow?” Rys tapped his chin with one finger. “No,” he answered himself. “Better to divide and conquer. I believe Daffyd now has his hands tied, and Arthur will not be able to harm her if he comes after us instead.”

“Julian will watch after her,” Luc agreed.

“He will.”

It seemed an interminable wait before a young, uniformed attendant appeared with Owen’s son Gareth in tow.

It was startling, when Luc saw him, how much he looked like Rys.

With Owen gone, the only family he had to compare with his lover had been Daffyd and Arthur, who were pale shadows of Rys’s fine form, black hair, and gray eyes.

Gareth would grow up to look much like him.

Gareth’s eyes widened when he saw them. “Uncle Luc? What is it? Is it Mother?”

He gave Gareth as gentle a smile as he could muster. “No, lad. Your lady mother is well. This is your Uncle Rys.”

Gareth gaped. “Uncle Rys? I thought—” He flushed bright red, and his manners asserted themselves. “I mean, it’s very good to meet you.”

“It’s good to see you, lad.” Rys held out a hand, and Gareth shook it after staring at it for a moment. “I’ll explain on the way, but we need to get you out of here.”

Gareth’s eyes narrowed. “Is it Uncle Arthur?”

“Let us wait until we’re on our way.”

Rys scribbled his name on the ledger the regent held out to him, then steered Gareth out the door of the office. Luc took Gareth’s bag, bringing up the rear.

“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 rage that 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.