Page 5 of The Devil Himself (The Devil You Know #1)

Five

L uc whiled away the time before his meeting with Rys at the Devil’s Playground playing cards at his own club. He’d checked the betting books, because the best gossip could often be found there, but nothing had appeared that he could apply to his current situation.

Somehow, as he sat with a group of gentlemen of his acquaintance, his mind did not linger over Owen’s death. Instead, he turned over and over the conundrum that was Emrys Grey.

The devil of the Devil’s Playground. A man with a ruthless reputation for calling in gambler’s vowels and dealing with cheaters and men who abused the ladies in his employ. A man who had made his way up in the seedy underworld of London to legendary status.

One of the most beautiful men Luc had ever encountered.

And he did look at men, even if he had never had much opportunity to act on it. His marriage to Viola had been arranged, their betrothal negotiated when he came of age. She had been older than he, quite on the shelf already, and he had been utterly disinterested in the marriage mart.

It had been a fine arrangement for both of them, with Luc visiting her bed until she got with child and then leaving her to her own life afterward.

Only the pressure to have a spare in case something happened to Damien had sent him back to her.

Her death had been a terrible blow, but he had never loved her in the way a husband loves a wife.

Rys Grey fascinated him.

“I say, Angelsey, it’s your turn.”

“Sorry.” He broke his thoughts away from the way Rys had appeared in nothing but his shirt and trousers, his buttons open at the throat of his blouse to reveal a slim patch of his chest. With his raven’s wing hair and his clear, silvery eyes, he was arresting, to say the least.

“You’re quite distracted tonight, Fitz,” his friend Julian Leavy, Viscount Warrington drawled, laying the winning card after Luc took his turn.

“Mmm. I suppose I am. And I think I have lost enough to you gentlemen. I am withdrawing from the game.” He was never one to gamble to excess. He’d seen too much of what excess could do to his peers.

A chorus of good-natured groans sounded, but he waved them off, gathering what was left of his allotted stake for the evening before he rose.

“I shall accompany you,” Jules said.

“Ah, good, good, give someone else a chance to win.” That was Lord Haversham, who was deep into his cups.

“Indeed, sir. I am nothing if not egalitarian.” Jules sketched a half bow after he rose, then gestured for Luc to proceed him. “To the library?”

Ah, Jules intended to grill him over their drink. Lovely.

They settled in the deserted seating area, and an attendant came to offer them a glass of brandy.

Once he was gone, Julian peered at Luc from across the low table between them. “So, my friend. What ails you?”

“What makes you think I’m ailing?” he stalled, tapping his fingers on his thigh.

“Because you never lose so at cards. You’re not a reckless gambler, and you’re deuced good at maths.” Jules just sat there, smiling. The man was unnaturally patient and good-natured.

“Yes, well, I have a meeting in just over an hour that I am concerned about.”

Jules’s whisky-brown eyes twinkled. “An assignation with a new paramour?”

“What? No. No, I am hiring a guard for Owen’s son. I must go to the Devil’s Playground.” He realized that Julian had been out of town since Owen’s funeral, and he had no idea what was going on. Luc had been unable to make him aware, as the post was unreliable at best.

Jules blinked rapidly. “You are? Why on earth?”

“Because I think he was killed for his title. And I worry that Gareth will be next.” It felt good to unburden that to someone who was not Hannah or Rys, and Julian would keep his secrets. Especially when it came to Owen, who they’d both admired.

“Good God, man, are you serious?” Jules’s eyes had gone wide. “Owen was killed by a footpad.”

“No.” He shook his head firmly. “He was shot from a distance, not at close range. He was shot with an expensive hunting weapon clearly, as the aim was dead on; that would not be the sort of gun a footpad might obtain. And he was killed on his regular night at the club, so his killer likely knew his whereabouts.”

“I don’t know what to say. I’m gobsmacked.” Jules squinted at him, pausing for a long moment as if mulling things over. “What can I do to help?”

“I don’t know yet, but I intend to continue to look into it.”

“So why the Devil’s Playground?”

“Because it’s owned by Owen’s youngest brother.”

“Never say so.” Now he had finally shocked Jules out of his ironic state. “The Devil himself is one of those Greys? I would never have known. Though I suppose in retrospect, he looks like them, if harder and far more handsome.”

“The youngest. He favors his father.” He smiled a bit, remembering. “I knew him when he was but a child. The devil he is not.”

“You do know his reputation, don’t you?” Jules stared at him, his surprise still evident. Jules had become friends with Owen after Rys had been banished, so he had no idea of the gossip.

“I know his club’s reputation, yes.”

“Hmm. It’s not just his club.” Jules smiled, the expression oddly remembering. “He deserves the rumors in many ways.”

“Have you met him?”

“I have frequented his club, yes.”

“I see.” Luc wasn’t sure what to make of that. “How long has it been since you were there?”

“Oh, the better part of a year. I’ve been working hard at being a good little noble because my aunt said I was hurting my family’s reputation. Also, if I stop carousing, my mother harangues me less about marrying. So he intends to aid you?”

“With the guard, yes. He’s loaning me one of his most trusted men.”

“Interesting. And you don’t think him the threat?”

“No.” He waved the hand holding the snifter. “He’s a self-made man, and God knows he rather loathes his family, but he didn’t even know Owen was dead.”

Jules sobered. “God bless his soul.”

“Just so. At any rate, I have nowhere else to turn.”

“I know Owen was our friend, Luc, but this is hardly your burden to bear.”

Luc knew that, but he was not one to stand aside when someone needed help. “Hannah is beside herself, Jules. And I promised Owen I would help them if something happened to him.”

“Damn.” Jules tapped his glass with one finger. “All right then. Again, what can I do?”

“Look into Daffyd and Arthur’s finances?

They’ve both been spending recklessly, but I need proof that they’re stealing from the entail.

And you have connections within their bank.

I can also give you the direction of Hannah’s man of affairs.

” Julian would be far better served to do that than he, and dammit, he trusted the man.

“Perfect. I shall inquire tomorrow.”

“Discreetly. I have no wish to see you shot like Owen was.” If he dragged Julian into things, and he got hurt, Luc would never forgive himself.

That surprised a laugh out of Jules. “No, neither do I. I rather like myself as I am.”

Luc pulled out his watch. “I must go. I appreciate your help, Jules.”

“He was my friend too, and Hannah is a good woman.” Jules toasted with his snifter. “To Owen.”

“To Owen.” But it wasn’t Owen, former Marquess of Hallowarren, he was thinking of. It was Rys Grey, instead.

"Angelsey, this is Joseph Wright, otherwise known as Sauce Box Joe.” Rys made the introduction, and Luc held out a hand to shake.

“Mr. Wright.”

Joe shook his hand. “Joe is fine, my lord.”

“Sauce Box, hmm?” Luc mused. “A pugilist, are you?”

“Yes, sir. And I can be mouthy in the ring, but I’m quiet as a mouse on a job.”

“I appreciate that. And Lord Grey has explained the job to you?”

“He has, sir. The only thing unsettled is me wages and expenses.”

Luc cut his gaze to Rys, who nodded. “Sit down, gents.” They were in a sitting room Rys used at the club when he preferred not to use his office.

It had leather chairs and a long chesterfield sofa, along with dark, heavy, masculine furniture and a drink cabinet. “Would you care for a drink, Angelsey?”

“I’m afraid I had two brandies with Warrington.”

“Ah. We haven’t seen him in a while, I fear.” Rys’s lips curved into an enigmatic grin. Julian was a recovering hedonist, he supposed.

Luc gave him a rather curious look, frowning.

“He’s been rather busy with his estates. Just got back to Town. Now, about Mr. Wright. Joe.”

“Indeed.” Rys sat, steepling his fingers. “In general, gentlemen like Joe here work on a retainer. Joe is asking five pounds for a month, and another two pounds for expenses.”

That seemed like a good bargain to him, honestly.

“And Joe, you’re content with that?” Luc asked.

“I am, my lord.”

“I understand it’s customary to offer a bonus at the completion of a job?”

“I’ll handle that.” Rys glanced at Joe, then back at Luc. “But I would appreciate it if you paid his wages. It will be easier for you to bury it in an expense.”

“Of course.” Luc looked back to Joe. “Do you need the full monthly amount up front?”

“If ye don’t mind, my lord. I’ll need it for the traveling and the setting up a living situation.”

“Of course.” Luc pulled out his wallet, tugging out a ten-pound note. “The extra is to outfit yourself in case you need a certain kind of clothing to blend in.”

He wouldn’t smile. Luc was generous to a fault, but he knew the man had a head for business and managed his estates well, so clearly no one took advantage of him.

“And when will the young master go back to school, sir?” Joe asked.

“Now that you’ve been engaged, I shall send him back on Sunday.”

“Very good, sir. Lord Grey here has given me his direction. I’ll watch the house and such until he leaves.”

“Thank you, Joe. Keep him safe.”

Joe nodded and stood, pulling his cap out of his pocket. “Mr. Grey. I’ll see you to report before I leave.”

“I will depend upon you, Joe.”

“Yessir.” And Joe departed, his wide shoulders filling the doorway as he left.

“You trust him?” Luc asked, turning that bright blue stare on him.