He would have risen to his feet had he not feared the goddamn chair would stick to his arse. Instead, he remained where he was, pinning his nemesis with a disparaging stare of his own.
“Iamthe guard, Lady Elizabeth,” he snapped, intentionally using the wrong name.
It was small of him, he knew. But enjoyable, nonetheless.
Her shoulders drew back. “My name is Lady Evangeline.”
He scowled. “Right. And my name is Devil. NotMr. Winter. Notsir. Devil. Repeat it after me if you like.”
Her cheeks flushed. “Forgive me, butDevilcannot be your Christian name.”
Ordinarily, he didn’t give a bean when he irritated someone. But there was something about nettling the condescending Lady Evangeline that pleased him. And he hadn’t been pleased in…
A long damned time.
“Says who?” he retorted.
She stared at him, aghast.
That was what he thought. Not even a smart retort out of milady’s—
“Says Lady Evangeline Saltisford,” she said, her voice dripping with ice. “If I am to suffer this nonsensical guard nonsense, I must insist I cannot refer to you as Devil. It feels far too damning.”
Of course it did. That was the point. Enemies tended to think twice about attacking a man named Devil.Theodoredid not have the same effect. He would eat his cravat before he would tell her his true name.
He shrugged. “Devil or nothing.”
“Mr. Nothing is a strange name indeed, but if that is truly what you wish…”
Lady Adele sighed loudly. “Evie, you are behaving abominably.”
At last, a voice of reason. That twin sister of hers was right shrewish.
Lady Evangeline’s attention returned to her sister. “I am behaving poorly? Heavens, Addy. Ever since you secretly married Mr. Winter, you are acting as if there are goblins hiding behind every corner, waiting to attack us all.”
“Suttonsaregoblins,” Devil rumbled, surprising himself by speaking again. “Look like them, too.”
Two sets of dark eyes flew to him. He ought to have held his sodding tongue. The chair seemed to grow smaller by the minute.
“Who are Suttons?” Lady Evangeline asked, her gaze never wavering from his this time.
She had addressed him. Without a cutting or condescending edge to her tone.
“Enemies of the Winters,” he said simply.
Her lips—full and pink and luscious-looking as a berry tart—compressed. “But I am not a Winter.”
“Someone shot at you,” he pointed out.
The obvious. He still wasn’t convinced it had been Suttons, however. Shooting at plump pigeons wasn’t their sport. They liked dog and cock fights, chopping off fingers, and setting buildings on fire. The small things.
“No one shot at me! I was on a drive in the park with my betrothed.” Her tone rose, veering toward melodrama as she turned back to her sister, addressing her once more. “I deeply regret Lord Denton ever mentioned it, as that single bullet has caused me no end of trouble.”
Lord Denton. Devil’s lip curled. Of course she would be marrying a soft-palmed twat like Denton who strutted about with a quizzing glass and a cravat tied up to his bloody eyebrows. The bastard had probably shat in his breeches when the shot flew by his curricle.
“He did no such thing!” Lady Evangeline was pinning him with an accusing glare, her face pale. “How dare you, sir? In the presence of ladies…”
Well, fuck.
