Sinfully Yours (Hellions of High Street 2)

“Be that as it may, shall we join Dunbar and his men in the pursuit of the villains?” asked McClellan, offering her the reins to one of the mounts.”

Devlin looked at her, but she shook her head. “I have a feeling they won’t catch Josette. She’ll have taken precautions to ensure her escape.”

“A cunning little chit, isn’t she?” remarked McClellan.

Anna blew out a sigh. “It’s a pity. She was right to say England offers women with ability little opportunity to exercise their talent. They must either work in secret or turn to crime. It’s no wonder that Bonaparte and his radical social ideas appeal to her.”

McClellan grunted. “Bo

naparte’s promised freedoms are mostly illusions.”

“Speaking of Josette, how did you manage to free yourself from her clutches?” asked Devlin.

“It’s really not all that exciting.” Anna quickly recounted what had happened.

“Ye gods, you’re hurt,” he muttered, touching her sleeve. “On second thought, I shall ride like a bat out of hell after that woman.”

“Oh.” She had forgotten about the cut. “It’s hardly a scratch, and it wasn’t Josette who wielded the blade. It was Lady de Blois.”

“By the by, if the comtesse did not flee with her other two cohorts, where is she?” asked McClellan.

“Locked in Davenport’s dressing room,” she answered, glancing at Devlin. “I do hope she hasn’t vented her ire on your personal possessions.”

“Never mind that. I’m taking you back to the manor this instant so you can have that wound treated,” said Devlin, in a tone that brooked no argument. “And once there, I will try to refrain from murdering her with my bare hands.”

“Not on horseback,” said Anna. She had several bruises on her posterior from bumping along in the tunnel. “I would rather walk.”

“And I,” he said lifting her into his arms, “would rather carry you.”

His shoulder felt reassuringly warm and solid.

She decided not to protest.

The rest of the afternoon passed in a bit of a blur. The manor was in an uproar over the events, but Devlin quickly quieted speculation by passing word that the French trio were jewel thieves, who had escaped after Anna had spotted them trying to steal a pair of Lady Dunbar’s diamond necklaces. The countess and her husband went along with the story when the truth of the assassination plot was confided to them. As for Lady de Blois, she was taken away by Devlin’s local government contact with no one being the wiser.

At the news of Anna’s injury, her mother had taken to her bed in a fit of vapors, demanding a dose of laudanum to calm her nerves. Which was, decided Anna, just as well, for Caro’s barrage of questions while she had her wound bandaged by the housekeeper, was tiring enough. Indeed, all she wanted to do was sleep for the next several days. However, Prince Gunther insisted on having a gala celebration to laud her for her bravery, and it seemed best to accept the accolades. There was no need for him to know how close he had come to death.

“And to think I missed all the excitement,” groused Caro after lifting her glass of champagne in toast. “That dratted cup of chocolate put me to sleep for hours.”

“You would not have liked it,” said Anna. A childhood mishap in the caves near one of her father’s work sites had left her sister deathly afraid of dark, cramped spaces. “The tunnel was black as Hades, and I was forced to crawl for much of the way out.”

Caro’s face paled, and she took a quick swallow of wine.

“Besides, you played a key role in the adventure. You found McClellan—”

“Actually, he found me.” Caro grimaced. “And I’m sure he’ll never let me hear the end of it. No doubt he thinks me a ninnyhammer.”

“I doubt that,” began Anna, but before she could say more, the baron approached, carrying a freshly uncorked bottle of bubbly.

“Another salute to the intrepid heroine,” he murmured.

Caro allowed him to refill her glass, but Anna shook her head. Suddenly the glittering candles, the crowded room, the loud voices felt too overwhelming. And despite his earlier declaration of love, Devlin was nowhere to be seen.

Love. She wished she could slide her palm inside his shirt and feel the beat of his heart against her skin.

“Thank you but no. If you’ll excuse me, I think I shall retire from the party,” she murmured. “I’m feeling rather fatigued.”

McClellan nodded in understanding. “In that case, I shall drink for both of us.” His eyes were a trifle overbright, and given how often sparks had flown between him and her sister…