Chapter Seventeen
K itty’s stomach dropped so fast it might have bounced off the parquet floor. She couldn’t be sure, as a hot flush of embarrassment was currently turning her bright red and making her eyes burn.
He was Devil.
He was the Earl of Birmingham.
And she was Kitty Caldecott, shopkeeper with a father in debt up to his nostrils.
Devil rose from his chair, unjustly handsome and at his ease. “Kitty. I—”
“I’m so sorry,” she interrupted hastily. This served her right. For pushing through without thinking. For letting her head be turned.
Idiot. Idiot.
She tried very hard to smile at the woman but wasn’t sure her face was working properly. “Entirely my fault.”
She whirled on her heel and darted for the safety of the hall and Pan’s judgmental sheep.
“ Kitty. ” Devil caught up to her almost immediately because he was twice her height and life was just that unfair. His hand curled firmly but gently around her elbow. “Wait.”
“I’m so sorry,” she said again, physically unable to meet his eyes. They were too green. Too clear. And she just wanted to disappear. “I didn’t mean to intrude.”
“Just come back inside.”
She finally looked at him, mostly so he could see the depths of her horror at the suggestion. She had already humiliated herself. Why on earth would she tarry? He was sadistic, clearly. Or his sense of humor needed immediate work.
He just shook his head, amused, fond. He had the audacity to look fond . Because he was sophisticated and debonair. Being caught by the woman he had fondled in a carriage with another woman far more suited to his rank and privilege was nothing new to him.
It was bloody well new to Kitty.
He hadn’t done anything wrong, not really. She had no claims on him. And she did not believe in jealousy.
Technically.
But she also did not believe in stewing in her own misery. Or worse, awkwardness. She was too used to bearing insults with a smile. Not this time. Not like this. Not here.
“Listen to me, firecracker.”
Not pet names. She could not handle pet names. Not right now.
Someone was hammering nails again. Or was that just the headache suddenly invading her skull? Devil tugged her back over the threshold. She ought to have kicked him in the kneecap and bolted. She couldn’t think why she didn’t.
“Mrs. Dimitriou, may I introduce Miss Caldecott?”
The woman put down her cup of coffee with a smile. “A pleasure, Miss Caldecott. Please call me Yelena. I’ve heard so much about you.”
“I am sure you have.” Kitty finally smiled, and it was so self-deprecating she actually felt Devil scowl down at her.
“I just adore your bookshop.”
“Oh. Thank you.” She did not know what to do with her hands. She rubbed her breastbone.
Devil took her wrist gently, folding his fingers around hers. “I asked Yelena here to meet you , actually. So you have excellent timing.”
Why was he prolonging her torture? Why would Mrs. Dimitriou want to meet her ?
Oh.
Idiot, once more.
Yelena must want to reassure herself that their betrothal was a sham. That she had nothing to worry about. Had Devil not talked to her about it at all?
This time Kitty scowled at him . He blinked, taken aback. “What?”
“Did you not tell her we aren’t really engaged? Did she have to find out through the gossips? Devil, really.”
“Are you scolding me?”
“Poorly, if you need to ask. Very poorly, in fact, since you won’t stop smiling at me.” Her eyebrows drew together. “What’s wrong with you?”
“He’s a man,” Yelena remarked drily.
“Hey,” he said mildly. “But a fair point.”
“We are not lovers,” Yelena continued, “if that’s what worries you. He has not wronged me.”
Kitty was still tense as a bowstring but felt a little bit less like the arrow that might ricochet around the room smashing very expensive things she could not afford to replace. She took what might have been the first breath since barging in. “Oh. I see. Good. That’s good.”
“Is that what you thought?” Devil asked her.
She shrugged, holding on to the tatters of her composure. Something suspiciously close to relief washed through her.
“It’s a fair assumption.” Yelena also shrugged. “Given your reputation.”
“My reputation would suggest you should both be nicer to me,” he muttered. “A little dread would not go amiss.”
Yelena laughed. Kitty smiled. Devil leaned against his desk, disgruntled. “I’ve asked Yelena to chaperone you,” he said.
Kitty snorted. “Devil, aging spinsters do not require chaperones. Even when they are betrothed to you. ”
“Not that kind of chaperone,” he said. “Do give me a little credit, Miss Caldecott.”
“While I am passable at watercolors and waltzing,” Yelena said, “I am far better with fencing and fisticuffs.”
“That was very poetic,” Kitty approved. “Wait. You are?”
Yelena inclined her head. “I know a great many tricks with a hatpin.”
“Will you teach me?” Kitty sounded awed, even to her own ears.
Devil raised his eyebrows. “I knew you’d be interested once you learned that little tidbit. And as a lady, Yelena can go with you into places my men cannot follow.”
“I doubt Lord Portsmouth would attack me in a ladies’ retiring room.”
“Do not doubt me,” he said darkly. “I mean to keep you safe.”
That was nice. So nice her eyes prickled. She blinked rapidly. She had had a trying morning. That must be why she was threatening to turn into a watering pot. Mortifying. “Thank you.”
Yelena nodded. “I will be in the parlor.”
“Do you need something to read?” Kitty pulled two books out of her reticule. It had seen better days, the heaviness of books continuously pulling at the seams she reinforced on a regular basis. “Pirates or Minotaurs?”
“Oh, Minotaurs, definitely. They are Greek like me, and sometimes I am homesick.” Yelena took the book and glided away, looking every inch the lady in her sage-green walking dress and not like someone who could murder a man. Kitty thought she might be in love already.
“Do you always carry books when you’re out for a walk?” Devil asked.
“Always. Walking, visiting. At the Park.”
“You’ll start a fashion in the ballroom.”
“I am not invited to ballrooms, Devil.”
“ Rhys. And you are now.”
“I’m all aflutter.”
“I can see that.” He grinned, and it changed his face, made him even more tempting. It did not change the dark electricity that crackled around him, though—nothing could temper that. And truthfully, Kitty would not want it to. “You’re the one who made a deal with the Devil.”
“I did not think it would involve the quadrille.” She wrinkled her nose. “I am not sure I can even remember how to dance a quadrille. It has been many, many years. And I only learned because my aunt is delusional.”
“I’m not worried about a quadrille.”
“Do you think Yelena could teach me?”
“After she teaches you between which ribs to stab a man?”
“Naturally.”
“I wonder if I am going to regret this,” he said drily.
“Probably.” She paused. “Do you think you will?” The question made her feel exposed for some reason.
Devil held her gaze, moss-green eyes glittering. “I will never regret your being able to defend yourself, Kitty.”
“I am sure the Spinster Society could teach me a thing or two.”
“Good. Learn them all, every technique, every method. Whatever it takes to keep you safe.”
Well, that was nice too. She was perilously close to simpering.
And that would not do.
She drew herself up with a brusque nod. Confident. Competent. Not at all swooning inside because the most beautiful man she had ever known wanted to arm her.
Devil read the change in her the way he would read a hand of cards. Calculating, filing it away for later use. “Why did you come here, firecracker?”
“Apparently, I came to scandalize your boot boy. That I could scandalize anyone at the Sins is a wonder, even for me.”
“Pierre?”
“He informed me most gravely that women do not visit the Devil. They wait for him to visit. No doubt with bated breath.” She was, abruptly, mildly peeved and couldn’t think why.
He snorted. “Pierre is ten years old.”
“Pierre has wisdom beyond his years.”
“Why else did you come?”
“I need a favor,” she admitted.
He tilted his head. “Do you?”
He was going to make her work for it. She should have known. This man was like a prism, all complicated angles and light. And unexpected colors. “I need to look through Lord Tadworth’s library.”
“Tadworth? The recluse with the whiskers and the toad collection?”
“He also collects books. But I wouldn’t mind a peek at a toad collection either, actually. More importantly, he recently purchased a trunk of books from Portsmouth.”
“Ah.” He raised an eyebrow. She deeply mistrusted the glint in his eye. “Are you asking for my permission?”
“Bollocks to that, Lord Birmingham.”
Devil laughed. It was like melted chocolate. Fine whiskey. A new book. It was everything.
To her.
Not to his brother, clearly.
“Good God, are you laughing?” Tom called from somewhere down the hall. “Terrifying. Don’t do it again. Think of the children.”
“There are no children.”
“Think of me , then.”
“Go away,” Devil said mildly, before pushing off the desk and nudging the door closed.
“Lord Tadworth has invited us for a tour,” Kitty elaborated. “Well, you. Seeing as you asked him.”
“Did I, now?”
“He won’t talk to me .” Devil’s eyes narrowed at that. She shrugged, well used to it. “He’s expecting us shortly.”
“Today?”
“Within the hour.”
“Ah.” He strolled back to his desk, diabolically indifference to the time constraints.
“Devil.”
He only looked at her.
She rolled her eyes. “ Rhys. ”
“Yes?”
“We have to go. Now.”
“Ask me nicely.”