Sinfully Yours (Hellions of High Street 2)

“Very well,” sniffed the comtesse. “Cook may send some pastries too. I am feeling faint.”

“Yes, yes, of course.”

“This way, madam.” The silver-haired butler offered his arm and led her away into the corridor.

“Dear me,” fretted Lady Dunbar as the housekeeper moved off with a muted jangling of the massive ring of keys fastened to her apron. “Pouring rain and missing gems—this is hardly an auspicious start to the party.”

“I take it the comtesse has lost a piece of jewelry?” murmured Anna.

“So it seems. I would venture to guess that it’s simply snagged in a fold of her evening gown, or has dropped from the dressing table and lodged in some crack or crevasse.”

“Yes, of course,” agreed Anna, forcing a far more unsettling suspicion concerning Devlin and his need for money back into a dark corner of her mind.

“Well, I had better go join Mrs. Gorman in overseeing the hunt.” Taking her leave with a distracted wave, Lady Dunbar hurried away.

However discreet the search party was, the news soon spread through the upper floors, and Anna was shortly joined by a number of the other guests.

“Do you think we have a thief in our midst?” Her mother seemed to be relishing the thought even more than the deviled ham and eggs heaped on her plate. “How very exciting.”

Caro paused in buttering her toast. “Actually…” She shot a quick look at Anna. “I think it’s a very silly suggestion. The comtesse has likely misplaced it and is making a fuss over nothing.”

“She does seem to have a flair for the dramatic,” commented Devlin, as he entered the room and paused by their chairs to straighten his cravat. His hair looked a little damp and windblown, as if he had been out riding.

Damn the Devil for looking so…divinely disheveled.

Anna swallowed quickly to loosen the sudden constriction in her throat, and then couldn’t resist doing a little needling of her own. “You were the one who had the closest look at her baubles. Is it your opinion that one could have come loose from its settings?”

Their eyes met, and his were dancing with mirth.

No man ought to have such a molten gold gaze. She felt herself falling, falling, into a liquid pool of sun-warmed honey…

“Alas.” Devlin exaggerated a sigh. “I did not ask permission to make a thorough examination of her jewels. However, from what I could see, they looked quite well made to me.”

“Mark my words,” said her mother darkly. “I say there’s something havey-cavey afoot here.”

“Let us not look for trouble where there is none, Mama,” cautioned Anna, shifting her attention away from his half-mocking smile. “I’m sure your dear friend Miriam would not wish for us to stir up any rumors.”

“A very wise suggestion,” agreed Devlin.

Lady Trumbull looked miffed, but contented herself with a bite of her sultana muffin.

“What are your plans for the day, sir?” asked Caro quickly. “Has the weather cleared enough for a hunt?”

“There is still a light mizzle falling, but our German guests have decided they are hardy enough to brave the elements, so we British fellows can hardly fail to do the same. All but the elderly baron and Lord Dunbar have agreed to meet in the Gun Room shortly,” he answered. “And you, ladies?”

“Lady Dunbar has arranged for carriages to take us on a shopping expedition into town,” replied Caro.

“I hear there are some lovely woven blankets and shearling muffs in the shops,” said their mother.

“Are you looking to make some purchases as well, Miss Sloane?” he inquired politely.

“I haven’t decided,” she replied tartly, a little unnerved by the effect he was having on her rebellious body. “I may simply pass the day with a book.”

“That may be the wisest decision of them all, judging by the clouds hovering on the horizon.” Devlin inclined a casual bow. “Now if you will excuse me, I had better fortify myself for the moors with some hot porridge and coffee. Enjoy your day of leisure.”

“Leisure? Ha!” Setting down her pen, Anna flexed her hunched shoulders and slowly massaged the crick in the back of her neck. The muscles were knotted, but the pile of finished pages more than made up for the twinges of discomfort.

“Well, at least I am making some progress,” she announced to the inkwell.