Sinfully Yours (Hellions of High Street 2)

“I take it you have worked with the government before.”

“They hire me occasionally for certain missions where my skills may come in handy,” he replied.

“I did wonder how you obtained the precision instruments you lent to Wrexham when he was about to set off in pursuit of the villains.” Anna pursed her lips in thought. “Good Lord—you made them, didn’t you?”

“The man who employs me will once in a while have need of certain complex implements that are not easy to construct. He happens to know of my mechanical skills.”

Her eyes widened slightly. “The automaton you are making in your room—what purpose does it play for this mission?”

Devlin allowed a tiny smile. “None whatsoever. It’s purely personal. A wealthy collector has commissioned it, and if I can make it work, I will be paid a very large sum. Given the remote location and the filthy weather here at Dunbar Castle, it seemed likely that I would have time to kill, especially if the suspected plot proved nonexistent. So, like you, I brought along my work in progress to keep boredom at bay.”

“And here we have been running back and forth spying on each other, like actors in a stage farce,” said Anna with a rueful sigh.

“It has had its comedic moments.” The breeze had kicked up, and the sting of salty air from the nearby sea was prickling against his cheeks. “Come, let us walk for a bit.” Another archway led into another secluded space where the walls hung heavy with a profusion of tiny pink climbing roses.

She didn’t miss the edge in his voice. As soon as they had passed through the opening, she said, “But I’m assuming the drama isn’t over.”

Once again the gears in her head were whirring with military precision.

“Correct,” he admitted. “Yours is not the only room I’ve examined for telltale evidence. As of yet, I haven’t found anything to indicate there is a plot to harm the prince. The hunting incident could have been just what it appears—an unfortunate accident.”

“However, you aren’t convinced the threat is a farrididdle.”

“No.”

“Good Lord. Having seen me sneak into the Gun Room, it is no wonder you thought the worst.” Anna grimaced. “Though I am curious—for whom did you think I was working? I live an awfully staid life in London and have precious little opportunity for involving myself in nefarious intrigue.” She cleared her throat with a cough—or maybe she was simply disguising a laugh. “That is, except for those I create in my head.”

“That was certainly something I had to consider.”

This time, there was no mistaking her mirth. “Mayfair ballrooms are hardly a hotbed of treasonous plots and international deceptions. The only betrayals going on are those between husbands, wives, and lovers.”

“You might be shocked at what people will do for money or power,” said Devlin softly. “Or the simple thrill of doing something dangerous.”

Anna’s face paled. “And seeing as I was willing to sell myself to a rich husband in order to take care of my family, why wouldn’t I sell myself for any task if the price were right.”

Seeing her haunted expression, he quickly replied. “I didn’t really consider you a likely suspect. However I had to be sure.”

“Are you now?” she challenged. “Perhaps I’m clever enough to conceal my true motives behind the ruse of penning a book.”

Devlin shook his head. “That won’t fadge—the writing is too good.”

Her mouth slowly stretched into a grin. “You know exactly how to disarm an author.”

“I shall remember that when you’ve got your book knife pointed at my liver.”

“I’m not your enemy,” replied Anna. “But I imagine you have some ideas on who is—or might be.”

“There are several who stand out as possible suspects,” admitted Devlin.

“Who?” she asked eagerly, turning so quickly that her shawl snagged in the thorny vines.

“Anna,” he murmured, reaching out to untangle the finespun wool.

“That,” she snapped, “is exactly the tone of voice men use when they are about to say ‘don’t worry your pretty little head about such things.’”

“It is an exceedingly pretty little head,” he drawled. “And there really is no need to worry it with such things.”

“That’s not amusing.” A yank freed the shawl. “I would like to help.”