Page 99 of A Deal with the Devil

“Hush, Mrs. Campbell.”

“I won’t hush.”

“We are not friendly with Lord Portsmouth,” Kitty assured them. “What of Lady Portsmouth’s parents?”

“They left the country altogether barely a week after she married. They might not even know she is dead.” A strangled sob. “Poor Caro. They are in Italy. Or Istanbul. Somewhere it does not rain.” The disdain coating Mrs. Campbell’s words could have tarred every boat in the Thames.

“I don’t wish to presume,” Kitty said, “but you might try talking to Lady Priya Langdon. She might be able to help.”

“Another aristocrat?” More disdain, in heaps and heaps.

“She is more than a dowager countess,” Kitty said. “Please, believe me.”

“Can’t hurt, Mrs. Campbell,” Mr. Campbell said.

Kitty looked at Yelena, meeting her gaze. She widened her eyes in a way she hoped conveyed clear instructions.

If Yelena’s slight frown was anything to go by, it did not, in fact, convey any instructions whatsoever.

Kitty finished her water and set the glass down, deliberately too near the edge of the table. It toppled and hit the floor with a crack. Kitty scrambled back as though the shards had cut her, exclaiming all the while. “Oh, I’m so clumsy! My apologies!”

Yelena rushed in to help, giving Kitty the time she needed to once again prove the Ladies’ Association for Moral Standards right.

She was a Menace to All Good Society.

She had a reputation to uphold, after all.

“I should have hired a Bow Street Runner as well,” Kitty said as they stepped once more into the carriage after rushing out in a flurry of apologies. It would have normally taken her most of the day to walk this route across London. “They must be expensive.”

“Devil works with them,” Yelena said, unpinning her bonnet and tossing it aside. She massaged her scalp. “I cannot abide English hats, even all of these years later. The Runners come to Devil as often as he goes to them. If they knew anything, you would know it.”

“Oh. I suppose that makes sense, with all of the wagers and whatnot.” And he had mentioned it once. She had been suddenly desperate to know where the Bow Street Runners met and what she could sell in order to be able to afford their services. She swallowed, her throat itchy. “They must be together? Lady Caro and Miss Campbell? Two friends going missing around the same time cannot be a coincidence.”

“I would be very surprised if it were,” Yelena agreed.

“Well, the Runners might have a fancy office and an earl and actual skills, but I have something they do not,” Kitty declared.

“Aplomb?”

“Better.” She pulled three books from various parts of her person from her stays to her reticule. “I have these.”

She should probably stop stealing soon. It was not good ton. And it might get her in gaol, if not outright hanged.

On the other hand, a life of criminal pursuits might also help her find Lady Caroline and her friend and save her sister. With apologies to Lord Tadworth and the Campbells, she would carry on for the moment.

The Delights of the Duchess, volumes three, four, and five, papered in a very inoffensive concealing print of flowers that Kitty sold for just this purpose—hiding your naughty books in plain sight.

“However did you manage it?” Yelena asked. “Is that why you asked to sit down?”

“I was feeling faint,” Kitty said primly.

Yelena laughed. “Even I believed you were overcome for a moment there. Well done.”

“I’ll return them,” Kitty felt the need to clarify. “Eventually. With a little gift. And a new glass.”

Yelena shrugged, supremely unbothered with a spot of thievery.

Kitty requested they stop at St. George’s, where she tucked a note into the oak tree gate. Please help my sister. Please let me help you. K.C. Golden Griffin Bookshop.

When they reached the bookshop, Wulf was in his usual guard position but also eating a raspberry tart—mostly because a very diminutive lady insisted upon it as a thank you for carrying her packages to a hackney.

Inside, a large box had been delivered from Fortnum & Mason for Kitty: the tea she had enjoyed so much just this morning, sent by Devil.

Kitty stood clutching a tin of tea leaves to her chest for an embarrassingly long time.