Page 32 of The Devil Himself (The Devil You Know #1)

L uc sat on the terrace at Wyddan Abbey in Wales, the home Rys had bought and had not returned to the entail, watching Rys’s nephew Gareth teach his son Damien, with seemingly infinite patience, how to play croquet.

They were having a summer house party, getting out of the city for a bit, and even Rys had turned over the club to Harris for a fortnight to come.

Honestly, how Rys had managed to keep the abbey and not have to return it by decree of the crown, Luc had no idea. He wasn’t certain he wanted to know.

Hannah and Julian’s aunt, Lady Moreton, were taking a turn about the gardens with Lord Beechwood’s dowager mother, while Beechwood and Julian stood by with the boys, awaiting their turn at croquet.

It felt… idyllic. Domestic. Not at all what he associated with Rys, but here, among true friends, it was possible. The weather was holding, which for Wales was amazing, and they were constantly sneaking off to be alone.

Rys was still far more likely to sip whisky than lemonade, however. And he sat now with a slight smile on his face, like a cat who had discovered the store of cream in the kitchen.

“What are you smiling like that for?” Luc asked.

“Hmm? Oh, just imagining our good friend Deacon Collingsworth playing croquet.”

That had him giving a huge shout of laughter, which drew curious gazes from across the garden.

Most of their friends smiled, even though they had no idea what was being said. All but Julian, who was acting this week in a manner completely contrary to his normal happy-go-lucky, charming way.

Luc sobered. “I cannot see that at all.” He watched Julian for a few moments longer. “I am worried about Warrington, though.”

Rys’s eyes went sharp, which meant he had missed very little. “He does seem melancholy. The duel and canceled engagement to Hannah did not hurt him in society, did it?”

“Not that I’m aware of.” He sighed as Julian deliberately sent his ball into the edge of the woods, striding off and not returning to the game as he normally would have. He just disappeared. Alone. “I shall have to ask, I suppose. I don’t like to see him so Friday-faced.”

“You know him better than I, but if I can help, let me know.”

“I will.” He met that stormy gray gaze, reaching out to touch Rys’s hand. “Are you happy, my love?”

Rys nodded, fingers of his other hand tapping on his whisky glass. “I am. It’s rather terrifying.”

“I know.” He surveyed the gardens one more time, feeling contentment all the way to his toes. “Shall we sneak off and leave your guests until supper? I would very much like to give the devil his due.”

Rys stood, waiting for him before turning and striding inside. “The devil is always willing to take that from you, my dear. And only from you these days.”

“That’s everything I want to hear.” Julian could wait until everyone else was engaged in charades or cards. Then Luc would corner him and find out what on earth was wrong with him.

Right now, he wanted to enjoy the most enticing part of domestic bliss. With the Devil Himself.