A Rake's Ruin (Devilish Lords #1)(28)

Fury made his hands tremble. What did Rhys know about his Claire? But he wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of denying it. His grip relaxed on his glass as he realized that his brother would see the real Claire soon enough.

Once she was his wife, he would make sure she felt free to be her true self no matter what the company. Hell, if she wanted to become a scandalous talk of the town, he would have no problem with it. Just as long as she allowed him to be her partner in crime.

Forcing a smile, he sank back down onto the settee. “You might be right, Rhys. Boring and insipid, that sounds like a far better match for you.”

Rhys’s expression was not amused but before he could respond, their mother interrupted. “That is enough of that. The carriage is ready to take us to the ball.” She arched a brow at Rhys. “I expect everyone to be on his best behavior tonight. All of society will be watching Nicholas and his bride-to-be. There is enough gossip around them as it is. I expect you to be nothing less than a true gentleman.”

Rhys frowned at the scolding, the likes of which were normally sent in Galwin’s direction, not his.

But Rhys’s eyes were lit with a mischievous laughter as he faced Galwin. “Ah, so I was right then. This little union came about thanks to some scandal on your part, I gather.”

Galwin opened his mouth to reply but his mother beat him to it. “Hush, Rhys. Jealousy doesn’t suit you.”

Galwin just barely held back his laugh. Jealous…Rhys? Hardly. The elder brother had it all—the title, the fortune, the looks, the admiration of the ton. Everyone knew he was the blessed brother, the one who had it all.

But he didn’t have Claire. Claire, who he would finally get to see tonight. He would dance with her and gaze into those marvelously expressive eyes. And maybe, if he was lucky, he would manage to steal another kiss.

His mother turned to head out to the main hallway and Galwin fell into step behind her, making sure to flash Rhys a wicked grin as he passed. Lord, but it felt amazing to be the “good” son for once.

Maybe he should have tried it sooner.



Galwin found himself thinking a similar thought later that night as he escorted Claire through the ball several hours later.

Perhaps if he had been the dutiful younger brother he and Claire would have found one another sooner, perhaps gotten engaged years ago, and maybe that engagement would not be so fraught with misunderstanding and tension.

He glanced down at his lovely bride-to-be and her ridiculous simpering smile.

Maybe in that alternate version his fiancée would even grace him with a genuine smile.

It had been like this since he and his family had arrived. He introduced Claire to his mother and brother and watched as she charmed them both with that vacant stare and the demureness that bordered on weak and docile.

He’d seen her fa?ade for what it was and he hated it. She was hiding from him, hiding from everyone. She was playing the role expected of her but there was no spark of the real Claire Cleveland. He’d wanted to shake her, to bring her back to life.

Even now, hours later, he was trying to find a way to sneak her off the dance floor, to take her somewhere private where he could kiss her until that spark returned and her laughter lit her eyes, making her glow from within.

Instead he found himself making polite and utterly meaningless small talk as they moved beside one another but not together. This was no partnership, the physical attraction between them was there—he had a suspicion it would always be there until the day he died—but the spark of teasing, of challenge, of laughter was nowhere to be found.

He might as well have been escorting an automaton rather than a woman of flesh and blood. When he asked after her family she answered politely, quietly, her eyes not focused as though her mind were elsewhere.

She was a shell of herself and he couldn’t take it anymore. Seeing her this way was the equivalent of having a glimpse of the sun but being doomed to darkness for the rest of one’s days.

Bloody hell, now he was turning poetic about it.

Right. That was it. Time to take matters in hand. There were mere weeks between now and their wedding. It was time to set this course straight. As far as he knew she was still suffering the misapprehension that he was marrying her for money.

That would not do. If that were the case, it was no wonder she was cold and distant. She must think him no better than a beggar. A degenerate wastrel who needed her funds to pay off his debts.

He looked over at her as a dreadfully boring baron talked incessantly about his horses. Claire was smiling politely. Didn’t her cheeks ever feel the strain from those forced smiles? But that was beside the point. After an evening of frustration, he’d had an insight. A realization, rather.

Of course that was it. The fact that he’d foolishly allowed her to go on believing that he was marrying her for money was the very matter that stood between them. Any woman might be turned off by the idea of being wed for her fortune, but a woman such as Claire, who already believed that he was a bad influence on Jed in the gaming hells?

Well, it did not take a genius to make the connection. She still believed him to be irresponsible. He should never have let her go on believing that but at first there had been no time to set her right, and also…well, also he’d feared her reaction if he’d told her that she had it all wrong.

His eagerness to marry her had nothing to do with her money or even her reputation, for that matter. His quick willingness to wed stemmed from his fervent desire to have her by his side, forever and always.