Page 49 of A Deal with the Devil

His friends echoed the sentiment, wide eyed and nervous. Kitty knew they would babble the story for days to come just as soon as they were out of earshot. Devil had taken on Portsmouth in his own house, and now he was using the gossips to spread the word that Kitty Caldecott was untouchable.

He leaned forward, just slightly. “I heard what you said to my betrothed.”

St. John gulped. He looked queasy enough that Kitty stepped back out of prudence. She did not wish to ruin her best dress. “I… That is…”

Devil simply looked at him, without another word, until he bowed again and stumbled away, sweating.

“You need to teach me how to do that,” Kitty murmured. “Did you really hear what he said to me?”

“No. I guessed. He is not clever enough or creative enough to surprise me.” His forearm tightened under her fingers. “Shall I kill him for you?”

Kitty choked on a laugh.

Devil did not laugh.

They continued through the crowd that parted hastily to let them through. A footman waited with her cloak as if summoned through the sheer magic of Devil’s will. Devil drew her toward his own well-appointed carriage rather than letting her walk toward St. James to hire a hackney. It was simple, clean, and smelled of the oil from the lamps, scented with lemons. The seat cushions were black damask, the walls polished mahogany. The curtains were a deep, full red, like spilled wine. It was a fitting conveyance for someone nicknamed for the Devil. Sin and sensuality.

Kitty took a proper deep breath, the first of the night since she had stepped through the doors of the Portsmouth townhouse. “I think I would have remembered getting engaged.”

“You asked for my help.”

“Not like that!” The gossip would be thick as honey off the comb. Still, it was no doubt preferable to whatever Portsmouth had in mind for her.

“You should have been specific, Miss Caldecott. The first rule of wagering. Always specify terms.”

“I shall have to cry off, I suppose,” she said. “Or you will and ruin my reputation. Well, what’s left of it. Still,” she added. “Thank you.”

“I think you know Portsmouth is not to be trusted.”

“Believe me, I know.”

“And yet you flitted about his bedroom.”

She rolled her eyes. “I was not flitting. Honestly, who flits? And I was in his wife’s bedroom, if you must know.”

“Why?”

“I’m not sure that’s any of your business, actually.”

“Well, you are going to be my wife.”

She grimaced at him. “Ha.”

“You wound me.”

“You look fine to me.”

“Cut to my very soul.”

She tilted her head. “Do you have one? Being the Devil and all?”

His jaw hardened. “No.”

She narrowed her eyes. She did not like the altered gleam in his gaze. “Don’t be silly—of course you do.”

“You’ve heard the stories.”

“I think I, of all people, know not to believe gossip. Last I heard, I was leading virginal young debutantes into the cellar of my shop for distinctly nefarious purposes. There was also talk of a debutante revolution.”