A Rake's Ruin (Devilish Lords #1)(44)

Nicholas blinked. Wasn’t it obvious? “Now someone has.”

“Claire,” his brother said.

He gave a short nod. Yes, of course, Claire. “She’s more than you know, Rhys. She’s worth a hundred men like me and so much more than I deserve. But I want to be deserving of her. If I could go back and change my past, I would. But I cannot.”

All his sadness came through in those final words. The resignation, the despair. For now he had poured out his heart and soul and left them at her feet, and there was nothing left to do but wait and hope.

Still, he looked to his brother for some sort of encouragement. As though if he could make Rhys see that he deserved a chance, then perhaps Claire would see it too. His voice was little more than a growl. “I ask you again, brother, can a man not change?”

Rhys didn’t answer immediately. Instead he sat there in heavy silence, his stern gaze never wavering. “I suppose a man can,” he said, “given the right impetus.”

Nicholas nodded. It wasn’t exactly encouraging, but it was enough. His older brother had always been the voice of reason. The responsible, upright, honorable one of the two. Hearing him admit he may have changed was an odd relief. A sort of pardon, as though his brother was the final word on morality.

“If you are so hopelessly in love with the woman you are to marry tomorrow, why the long face?” Rhys asked.

Nicholas scowled. He hadn’t outright admitted he was hopelessly in love, though he supposed he’d made it clear. He shifted in his seat as he thought how to answer. Finally he told the truth with a sigh. “Because there is a chance that you will win that wager after all.”

Rhys regarded his misery. “I take it you would not be the one crying off.”

He let out a huff of laughter that held little amusement. “Not in so many words, no. It’s rather complicated, to be honest.”

“I don’t see why it should be,” Rhys started, clearly about to embark on a lecture—he was using his high and mighty authoritative tone.

Nicholas held up a hand to stop him. “And have you ever been in love?”

His brother frowned. “No.”

“Then on this one topic, I ask that you heed to my experience.”

His brother’s lips twitched up at the corners in rueful amusement. “So you admit it’s love then.”

Nicholas shrugged. “Of course.”

Rhys shook his head slightly. “Of course.” His of course sounded mocking as if it were anything but obvious. “No offense to your intended, but I don’t believe many see the appeal.”

Nicholas stiffened, ready to defend his lady’s honor but Rhys held up a hand to stop him. “I do not mean that as a slight to Claire. Indeed, many see her appeal—she is known to be beautiful and dutiful, poised and kind.”

Ugh. Nicholas’s lip curved up in a sneer at that description. Certainly, it was all true, but it barely scraped the surface of who she truly was.

“No one doubts her appeal, just her appeal to you.”

He smiled at that, the first genuine smile he’d felt since that meeting with Claire. “Well, that would be because no one knows the real Claire, not like I do.”

Rhys studied him again and his gaze filled with something Nicholas could never remember seeing there before. It looked almost like…respect.

“I admire your choice, Nicholas. And I am pleased to see you maturing into the kind of man Father always knew you would be.”

Heat crept up Nicholas’s neck at the unexpected and unfamiliar praise. A new awkwardness sat between them. It seemed neither of them knew how to tread this new terrain.

Rhys cleared his throat and his tone grew serious. “Father is what I wanted to speak with you about today.”

Nicholas’s heart fell. Their father’s health had been steadily declining for months now. The doctors had given them no reason to believe it would turn around but still they had hoped. “Has he taken another turn for the worse?”

Rhys’s mouth pinched as he nodded. “I’m afraid it does not look good.”

Nicholas nodded as well. “Then I will go to him, sit with him for a while.” He already planned to sneak some scotch up to his father’s room so the older man could enjoy a few sips as they visited. Visiting lately meant Nicholas sat at his side and regaled him with stories from the club or read to him from a beloved novel. The duke was too weak for much conversation these days.

Nicholas made a move to do just that but stopped near the doorway, his gaze sliding over to his brother who looked so much older than his years sitting behind their father’s old desk and shouldering the weight of the world.

“You know,” he teased, “you are not getting any younger yourself, Rhys. Perhaps it’s time you found a wife as well.”

His brother rolled his eyes but some of the seriousness eased from his expression. “Not you, too. Mother is constantly badgering me.”

Now it was Nicholas’s turn to smirk. For once, he was the good one in his mother’s eyes now that he had chosen a bride…assuming, of course, that the wedding occurred. “Come now, brother. Perhaps you’ll fall in love as well.”

Despite the pain in his chest from his meeting with Claire and now the news of his father, he had to stifle a laugh at his brother’s look of disgust. “Oh please,” he said. “I have no desire to fall into that trap.” His expression cleared somewhat. “Do not misunderstand, I am happy that it has worked so well for you, but that is not what I need. Far from it.”