Sinfully Yours (Hellions of High Street 2)

Anna yanked her bodice into place, madly searching her befuddled brain for some way to stave off scandal. “Oh, Lord,” she repeated, casting a beseeching look to the heavens.

Her gaze stopped at the window…

Devlin followed her eyes. Leaving his shirttails flapping, he scooped up his coat, rushed to the sill and flung the casement open. “There’s a wide enough ledge. I should be able to make my way around to your sister’s room.” One booted leg swung up through the opening. “Let us hope she’s left the latch undone. I would rather not have to kick through the glass.”

“On second thought—” she began, suddenly picturing what a dreadfully long drop it was to the ground.

Devlin cut her off. “There’s no time to argue.”

Given their disheveled state, he was right. “Please be careful.”

“Don’t worry. I’ve no desire to end up splattered like a pigeon egg on the stone terrace.”

“Wait!” she hissed. “W-we need to talk. Meet me by the garden fountain in a half hour.”

He hesitated, then gave a curt nod.

“You…” But he was already gone.

“Mademoiselle?” came Josette’s muffled call.

“Yes, yes!” called Anna. Pushing a twist of loosened hair behind her ear, she hurried to the door and threw back the bolt. Thank God there was a good excuse for her disheveled appearance.

“Mademoiselle!” Josette quickly mastered her show of surprise. “I thought you were with the picnic party. Is—is something amiss?”

“I was feeling unwell at breakfast, and so I begged off from the excursion,” answered Anna in a rush. “I came up to lie down and did not wish to be disturbed by the housemaids, so I decided to lock the door.” Pressing her palms to her temples, she added, “And then I fell asleep and was plagued by horrible nightmares.”

Her maid’s expression remained impassive, save for a tiny twitch. Along with mastering the art of designing beautiful clothes, the French had perfected the subtle gesture of arching a skeptical brow.

Following Josette’s gaze, Anna quickly tugged at a pesky little lump in her bodice, belatedly realizing that her half-unlaced corset was sitting askew. “Is it me, or is it awfully chilly in here?” she asked, snatching up the shawl she had earlier dropped on the sideboard and wrapping it tightly around her shoulders.

“Yes, there does seem to be a draft…” Her maid moved around the tea table and angled a look into the bedroom. “Alors! Look, the window is wide open.”

Anna’s gaze was instead riveted to a spot on the carpet, where Devlin’s cravat lay in a tangled coil. “A gust must have blown the latch loose,” she called, taking two rapid strides and kicking the offending garment under the sofa.

“Hmmph. We must ask the housemaids to be more careful,” called Josette, as she leaned out to grab the heavy brass frame and swing it back into place.

Had Josette spotted the telltale twist of linen? Impossible to know, but her maid had awfully sharp eyes, especially when it came to matters of fashion.

Reminded of her own sartorial faux pas, Anna drew the shawl even tighter across her chest. “Thank you. That’s much better.”

“Shall I fetch a pot of chamomile tea from the kitchens?” asked her maid. “Its calming effect may help you to enjoy a restful sleep.”

“Actually, I am feeling wide awake now,” replied Anna. “Indeed, seeing as the weather is so nice, I think a walk outdoors may be just the tonic I need.”

Another twitch of the raven-dark brow. “Would you prefer to change into another gown? That one appears a trifle wrinkled from your nap.”

“Oh, no need to bother. I shall just smooth out the skirts.”

“I can do that.”

“No, no. I promised you the afternoon off. I’m perfectly capable of seeing to myself,” she insisted. “We shall have to change for supper soon enough.”

“As you wish.” Josette put away the pile of freshly pressed handkerchiefs she had brought with her and quietly withdrew from the room.

Expelling a harried sigh, Anna fumbled her clothing into some semblance of order. The corset would have to remain undone, but her fretful tossing could explain the loosened lacing. After fishing out Devlin’s cravat from under the sofa and hiding it beneath her shawl, she headed off to the side staircase leading down to the gardens.

Anna was early, noted Devlin, as he made his way past the privet hedge. So much for his hope that her resolve might wilt once she had a moment to reconsider how dangerous a path she was treading.