Sinfully Yours (Hellions of High Street 2)

er than a curt “Hmmph.”

She shifted her chair, feeling a little wounded at his failure to appear impressed by her sleuthing prowess. Given the scrapes and bruises on her aching body, a bit of praise would have been nice. “You seem uninterested in my discovery,” she murmured. “I thought it was rather important.”

“It’s not uninteresting, just unexpected,” he replied. “I find it hard to believe that McClellan would be involved in an assassination plot.”

“But he’s hot-tempered and passionate in his dislike of England,” she pointed out. “And makes no secret of his wish for Scotland to be independent of our government’s rule.”

“True. But as you say, he’s not a man who hides his feelings,” countered Devlin. “Playing at high stakes games, I’ve come to be a good judge of character, and despite his thunder and lightning, the baron strikes me as a fellow who has his own set of moral principles. If he wished to harm Prince Gunther, he would be more likely to march up to him and challenge him to a duel with those fearsome-looking ancient claymores that hang in the Weapon Room.”

An astute assessment. However, a key question remained unanswered. “So how do you explain the rifles?” she asked.

Devlin shrugged. “Haven’t a clue. There’s only one way to find out.”

“Which is?”

He deflected the query with one of his own. “You haven’t told me about what you discovered in Lady de Blois’s jewel case.

“Letters,” answered Anna. “Signed only with a ‘V,’ but there seems precious little doubt that they are from Verdemont.”

“Well, go on,” he prodded when she didn’t volunteer any more.

“In truth, I’m not sure that there is much point. The contents made it clear they are having a torrid affair—and I can’t help but think that if they are willing to deceive the comtesse’s sister in such an ugly way, they might very well be capable of even worse acts of betrayal.” Anna expelled a sigh. “However, aside from a line that made no sense at all, there wasn’t anything other than personal matters expressed.”

“I don’t suppose you remember that odd line.” He didn’t sound sanguine.

“I’m not a feather-brained henwit,” she responded tartly. “Of course I remember it.” Lifting her chin, she rattled the phrase.

“Hmmph.”

Anna was getting very tired of hearing that muted snort. “Hmmph what?”

“Hmmph I am thinking.” He darted a glance around the alcove. “Is there paper and pencil anywhere nearby?”

She reached beneath the lip of the tabletop and opened a slim storage drawer. “Voilà. And before you ask, my French is excellent, so I’m quite certain my translation is accurate.”

“I’m not questioning your skill,” he replied absently, quickly writing down what she had told him. “It helps to see the words in black and white.

Craning her neck, Anna studied the paper for several long moments.

Have no fears—at the sign of the Witch, the double-faced eagle’s feathers will turn to dust.

“They still don’t make any sense. Unless, of course, they are a code.”

His lips twitched. “How did you come to have such a frightfully devious mind?”

“Through a great deal of practice.”

The grin became more pronounced. “No wonder your poor mother is hellbent to marry you off.”

“Most ladies would take offense at that, Daven—”

“Devlin,” he corrected. “But not you, Anna. You know me well enough to understand it wasn’t a criticism.”

“Hmmph,” she replied.

He laughed, and though it was barely more than a rumble of air, the sound sent a tiny thrill spiraling down to her very core.

A laugh shouldn’t make me want to press my hand to his chest and feel the rise and fall of his breathing.