A Rake's Ruin (Devilish Lords #1)(22)

And she did. She deserved a better man—one who had not spent his adulthood developing a reputation that was unworthy of her or his family name.

Amazing how one night with one woman could make him regret a lifetime of bad choices. More than that, an entire philosophy of life. One that was based solely on seeking out the pleasures of the flesh. A view of life that was selfish and short-sighted.

Because now he knew that the pleasures of the flesh that he truly desired were linked permanently to the pleasures of his heart.

Bloody hell, falling in love had turned him quite suddenly into a blathering fool. It was alarming, really. He would have to rein that in lest Claire witness his descent into lovestruck idiocy.

Love. That was what this was, he was certain of it now. He just had to prove it to Claire. And make her see that she felt the same—a task made that much more difficult by the fact that she clearly did not believe in love.

The task ahead seemed daunting. He had to prove to Claire that love existed in the first place, and then make her see that she felt this emotion for him.

And she had to feel the same, didn’t she? Wasn’t that how love worked?

He found himself matching the earl’s scowl. How the hell was he supposed to know? He’d never been in love before. Perhaps his love was of the unrequited variety. That was a legitimate thing, he assumed. It was written about often enough.

Davenport crossed his arms over his chest. “I will talk to Claire and if she—”

“No.”

“No?” Judging by Davenport’s shocked roar, Galwin guessed it was the first time the other man had heard that particular word. “This is my house and Claire is my responsibility. I will not be—”

“Hear me out,” Galwin interrupted. His voice was sharp and he glared at the notorious earl. He had no time for niceties or etiquette. Not now when his future and Claire’s happiness were at stake.

His interruption had the desired effect of shocking Davenport into silence long enough for him to get a word in. When he spoke, his thoughts came out rushed and ineloquent, but the gist was there. “Claire deserves to marry a man who loves her. She has finally had a taste of freedom, thanks to your marriage to her sister, and it would be a crime to tell her now that she has gone from needing to wed for money to needing to wed to save her reputation.”

He stopped to draw in breath and saw that the earl looked as though he might protest, but then clamped his mouth shut. He took that to mean that Davenport understood. And he should. If anyone knew what the Cleveland siblings had gone through and their close call with financial ruin, it was this man—the man who saved them by bailing them out when he wed Anne.

“Are you saying you are in love with Claire?”

That was not the question he’d been expecting. He bristled at the personal question. “I am saying that she deserves better than a rushed wedding and whispered rumors. She deserves a courtship and a suitor, and—”

“I suppose you intend to be that suitor?” the earl drawled, his tone filled with smug amusement, as though the idea were preposterous.

“Did you not imply earlier that you would force me to propose if the rumors were true?” he snapped.

The earl’s scowl deepened. He was being a hypocrite and they both knew it. “I might force you, but I will not force Claire.”

He resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “I am not asking you to.”

“Then what are you asking?”

“Give me time.” His tone was embarrassingly beseeching and he could not bring himself to care. He needed time to make Claire see that she loved him.

And she did. He refused to think about any alternative. She had to love him in return.

Davenport’s eyes narrowed. “Time for what?”

To make her love me. He cleared his throat. “Squash the rumors,” he said…or rather, demanded. “Use your influence to get Swattle to stop talking.”

“And if others are talking?”

Hell and damnation. Who else had seen them? What were they saying? He shoved the thoughts aside. “Claire is known to be proper and demure,” he said.

“And you, sir, are not.”

Blast, he would do anything to take back his former misdeeds if it meant sparing Claire from his reputation. “Do what you can to abate the rumors,” he said. “And in the meantime, I will talk to Claire.”

“Talk to her,” the earl repeated, a question clear in his voice.

“I will ask her to marry me.”

Davenport stared at him in a long, tense silence. “And if she says no?”

“I will deny the rumors, of course, and do whatever I can to help her maintain her position in society.”

He watched as Davenport considered him. What did he see? A reformed rake, he hoped, perhaps not so unlike himself.

“I will be here,” Davenport said, pointing at the floor where he stood. “I will not move and I will not hesitate to barge in and beat you to a bloody pulp if I hear anything untoward.”

He nodded. “Understood.”

His heart started to race as he realized what he had done and what he was about to do.

He was going to propose. To the woman he loved.

A woman who did not even believe in love.

A woman who did not seem to like him very much.

He drew in a deep breath as he turned the knob. He could do this. And he would succeed, because he had to. There was no reason to be so nervous. After all, he had faced greater challenges in life…