Page 109 of A Deal with the Devil

“Naturally. I would expect nothing less. From what I’ve already seen, it’s going to be brilliant.”

“The Ladies’ Association for Moral Standards do not hold the same opinion.”

Kitty snorted. “They really do need to take up a more enjoyable hobby. Decoupage. Or watercolors. Lawn bowls.”

“Agreed.”

“Who knew the Devil was such a champion?”

“Hush.”

Kitty grinned. “You can’t take a compliment any better than I can.”

“I am always ready to admit that I am clever and handsome, sweetheart.”

She snorted. “Admit you’re a good man.”

He nearly squirmed. She raised an eyebrow.

“Have more cake,” he muttered.

“I ate it all.”

“I’ll get you more.”

“See? A good man.”

He grumbled some more until the dew began to gather on the roses and the grass and he led them to his study for a warming draft of whiskey. Kitty sputtered around her mouthful. “This is just awful.”

“Philistine,” he said, but it was affectionate. Indulgent.

She wanted to eat it like that strawberry cake.

Dawn was starting to lighten the sky, a wash of pearly gray, a hint of pink. It would be daylight soon.

“We really need to get inside Portsmouth’s house again,” she said, loath to release the night and its dark and beautiful moments but knowing she must.

She had gone through all of the notes in the stolen volumes, most inked right on the page, which would no doubt have made Lord Tadworth scream incoherently. The messages between two very dear friends were like a second story overlaying the first. She knew their favorite scenes, their least favorite characters, the things they wanted to do with the duke. To the duke.

But she was no closer to finding out where Lady Caroline had gone, or if Miss Campbell had followed her, or even if their plan had been carried through. Caroline knew she needed to get away, but Kitty was no closer to finding out where she might be now.

“I assume Portsmouth has an army of men like you? Minus the fellow with the broken ankle, of course.”

“His men are nothing like mine,” Devil said dismissively, eyebrow arched.

“Of course not.” She had not known Godric and Wulf, Macleod, or Shelby long, but she was also offended on their behalf. “I was not implying otherwise.”

“And he’s arrogant. That will work to our advantage.”

Kitty shivered. “Please don’t underestimate him. He makes my skin crawl.”

“He’s not going to touch you,” Devil said, expression turning hard. “Nor your sister.”

The fact that he had mentioned her sister would have made her tumble into love with him right then and there. If she wasn’t already in love.

Oh, this was going to be a problem.

Devil did not look remotely concerned. Or like a man in love.

Because he wasn’t. This was a means to an end. She had blackmailed him into helping. She was briefly tempted to give him back his stolen vowel.

Briefly.

But her sister’s life was at stake, and she would not risk it over sentimentality. Devil would probably help her regardless, but she would be an idiot to rely on that. Her emotions were her own problem to deal with.

Blissfully unaware that she was tying herself up in knots, Devil set his glass down. The soft dawn light caught the whiskey, turning it to gold.

“I have an idea.”