Page 121 of Devil in Her Details

She had to find out one way or another.

He nodded and left.

Lilly stood and opened the box, removing the dress.

One thing at a time.

She held the beautiful, flowing fabric. Black and lovely and entirely her own choice. Her brother was right that people would think she was in mourning. She hadn’t even considered that when she’d commissioned the dress. But now that she thought about it, one could grieve a thing and reach for another thing simultaneously, couldn’t they? She laid the dress carefully across the bed.

You have to catch that man first.

What an annoying taunt. Had her brother lost his wits, too? So he approved but didn’t approve. She’d never understand the minds of men. Her panther, on the other hand . . .

Should she? Could she? Dare she?

Oh, yes. She could. She should. She dared.

But first things first.

*

Maxen’s mission existed.

Dagger was fairly certain.

He’d been fairly certain for the first few hours after they’d arrived in London. Moderately certain for the next few. Now, he was somewhere in the grey territory where he was fairly certain the mission existed and moderately certain it didn’t. Saint was a shite to read. Nevertheless, since he had ants in his damn trousers, they were now sitting in a borrowed carriage, courtesy of Drake’s cousin, the Earl of Dare, on a London street in view of the Duke of Kingsleigh’s reported townhouse.

Saint turned the page of the newspaper he was reading.

He wanted the rip the thing from his brother’s beefy fingers. “This mission exists.”

Saint turned a page.

“Deveraux was spotted in London. Wasn’t he?”

Saint turned another page.

Dagger gritted his teeth. “Did you or did you not trick me, you arse?”

Saint lowered the paper half an inch and looked at him over the top of it. Then raised it again.

Bloody enough! He snatched away the newspaper. “Are you even reading this thing? Who turns a page that fast? Not even Reaper pretends this poorly.” He glared at Saint. “Now answer the question.”

“The mission exists.”

“But?” Dagger growled. There’s always a damn but.

“No but.”

“There’s a but.”

Saint crossed his arms. “Deveraux was spotted in London,” he stated. “There’s a mission. Both things are true.”

“But there’s something you’re not telling me.”

Saint snatched the paper back, whipped it open, and resumed his . . . whatever the hell he was doing. Browsing. “Tell me the but right now or I will butt my head against yours until you do.”

Saint sighed, lowering the paper again. “Deveraux might no longer be in London. At least according to the latest report. But it might be misinformation. I’m not sure.”