Page 23 of Devil in Her Details

A particularly intimidating man with the unsettling habit of staring at her as though he knew something she did not. As evidenced by the thousand tiny prickles dancing across her skin from the heat of his stare.

Lilly risked the smallest glance across the room.

He nodded her way.

Her head snapped back, and heat crept up the back of her neck, and lifted her gaze to two flat, inquiring stares.

Lord.

Should I just confess?

*

Dagger settled more comfortably into his chair beside Reaper, his focus remaining fixed on the little fake milliner five tables away. He had spent a good amount of time debating whether he should come inside or not, since he felt no better than that damn Calvington.

Following her.

Watching her every move.

In his defense, he’d only meant to trail her from her lodgings—which hadn’t been too hard to discover—to her shop and ensure her safety in case the marquess hadn’t heeded his warming. He wanted to make sure her pest hadn’t returned. Some men, after all, like his uncle, didn’t learn their lesson even after they’d been shipped off in a crate to China. Calvington might seek revenge, too. If he was a fool. So long as he sought revenge from him and not from her.

Lady Lilly Trenton.

The daughter of the late duke of Kingsleigh. Sister to the current duke.

An hour, that was all it had taken to ferret out her identity. She hadn’t even attempted to hide her name. Her true self.

What the devil was she doing in Brighton acting as a milliner? Could it truly be a fit of pique? But Dagger dismissed the notion at once. A woman like her did not step away from London society simply because her temper had flared.

You never know, he argued with himself.

True. He was hardly an expert in the workings of that particular breed of mind.

“Tea?” Reaper offered tauntingly.

Dagger arched a what-the-blazing-hell brow at his brother. “There’s tea in that cup?” He’d thought it was brandy. “Since when do you drink tea?”

Reaper took a sip, the small cup looking ridiculous in his large hand. “Since I need to blend.”

A server hurried over, and Dagger ordered coffee. He couldn’t stomach the weak stuff. “He’s new.”

“Aside from the others being Deveraux’s original servants, it’s best to have your own who are loyal to you. Plus, the boy needs the money.”

Dagger nodded.

Reaper continued droning on, something about allegiance and fealty, but Dagger only half listened. The other half of his attention stayed locked across the room.

And still, she did not look.

Intriguing. But not shocking.

A lady pretending not to notice the man unquestionably staring at her from across the room. A man who had been half-naked before her just the previous day with her hands measuring his width. He had to hand it to her—nerves of steel. Perhaps the lady was more lynx than doe.

Dagger shifted slightly in his chair, willing the movement catch the corner of her eye. Or her sixth sense.

It worked.

Her gaze slid toward him again. Quick, curious, and gone in a flash.