Sinfully Yours (Hellions of High Street 2)

helves and the rattle of the brass-framed windows in the gusty wind.

The study was also deserted. Moving on to the billiard room, he paused by the half-open door, listening to the rumble of laughter punctuated by the click of the ivory balls. The prince and his unmarried friends appeared to be deep into a competitive match. Angling a look through the opening, Devlin saw through the haze of cigar smoke that they had stripped off their evening coats and rolled up their shirtsleeves. And though they were speaking in German, the language of masculine needling was universal. There must be a hefty sum riding on the outcome of the games, for a scowling Count Rupert took his time in lining up his next shot.

They would likely be at it for some time, thought Devlin, and judging by the array of wine and brandy bottles on the sideboard, play was only going to get more erratic. There was no reason not to take advantage of the opportunity to have a quick look around in the rooms of the prince’s three friends.

The German contingent was quartered on their own floor in the tower, and to avoid being spotted by any of the other guests, he decided to retrace his steps to the music room and circle around the gardens to gain access through the entrance on the north side of the castle.

It was probably a wild goose chase. But his mind was unsettled, and to work on his mechanical model required meticulous concentration. As for thinking of any amorous diversions, he had not yet had a chance to begin a flirtation with the sultry Madame de Blois.

And Anna? Ye gods, he didn’t even want to begin thinking of that complication. “Bloody Hell,” Devlin muttered under his breath, forcing himself to concentrate on the German guests. “I suppose I’ve nothing better to do.”

Leaving their mother finally settled for the night and snoring softly in her canopied bed, the two sisters quietly made their way down the corridor to their own rooms. It was late, but any hope Anna had of gaining some much-needed solitude was quickly put to rest by Caro’s assertion that she was far too wide awake to sleep.

“You may have the stamina of youth…” She feigned a yawn. “However, I’m exhausted. It’s been a very long day.”

“We can have a comfortable coze while you ready your ancient bones for bed,” replied her sister.

Recalling the hurt her earlier rebuff in London had caused, Anna didn’t have the heart to say no. This was Caro’s first country house party and it was no wonder that she was abuzz with excitement. Count Rupert had been particularly attentive over supper—so with any luck, that first heady taste of flirtation would keep her sister distracted from discussing any of the other gentlemen guests.

But no sooner had the door closed when the first words out of Caro’s mouth quickly dispelled that hope. “It seems to me that you have changed your tune and are now willing to dance with the Devil.”

“You are mistaken,” scoffed Anna, as she untied the tabs of her gown and stepped out of the layered skirts.

“Oh, pish. Don’t deny it.” Planting herself in the armchair by the hearth, Caro crossed her arms in a silent signal that the conversation wasn’t going to be a short one. “It was dark in the far corner of the alcove, but no amount of shadows could disguise a certain set of broad shoulders and long legs.”

“Oh, very well.” She expelled a sigh. “I admit that the mistake is not yours but mine. I don’t know how to explain it, but when I am around the dratted man I can’t seem to think clearly.”

“Actually, there is a very simple word for what’s clouding your head,” said her sister. “It’s—”

“Don’t you dare say what I think you are going to say,” warned Anna. “Life isn’t as simple as a sonnet.”

“Sonnets are deucedly hard,” protested Caro. “Odes are even harder.”

Anna allowed a reluctant smile as she unpinned her hair and began to brush it out. “I was speaking metaphorically. What I meant was, things aren’t always black and white. Sometimes they are more…”

A muddle of grays.

Her sister looked thoughtful. “Sometimes they are more confusing?” she suggested.

“Yes.” The shadowy reflection of her face in the looking glass seemed to reveal all her myriad inner doubts. “I suppose so.”

Silence greeted the admission, rather than one of her sister’s exuberant opinions. Anna unwound the braided ribbon in her topknot and slowly worked the brush through a small snarl of curls. Outside, the raw, wind-roughened sounds of the Scottish night rose and fell with the gusting breeze, its cadence so elementally different from the familiar street music of London. Which only accentuated the feeling of having lost her way in a dark woods.

“And yet, you always seem so sure of yourself.” Caro’s tentative voice pierced the gloom. “I thought I was the only one who struggles with how to untangle my uncertainties.”

Anna hesitated. Their older sister, Olivia, had considered Caro too young and too impetuous to share in any serious heart-to-heart confidences. But of late, Caro had begun to show a newfound maturity, so perhaps it was time to stop treating her like a schoolgirl.

“If I seemed sure of myself in the past, that’s because I knew exactly what was expected of me,” she said slowly. “Mama had pinned her hopes for our family’s future on my ability to attract a wealthy husband, and I was determined to live up to that responsibility in order to make sure none of us would ever have to worry about having a roof over our heads.”

Caro sucked in a ragged breath. “I never quite realized what a terrible burden you bore. I saw that you had swarms of suitors, and it all seemed like such marvelous fun.” A grimace tugged at her mouth. “I suppose that I thought it was all an enchanted fairy tale, and that you were sure to find a handsome storybook prince who would sweep you off your feet.”

“Mama no doubt still shares your fantasy about the prince,” said Anna dryly. “But Olivia and Wrexham’s generosity has freed me from such responsibilities.”

“Yes, now you may choose a man who enriches your soul, not your purse.”

The burst of poetic passion stirred a snort of amusement, and Anna found herself hoping that at age eighty Caro would still display the same exuberant excess.

“Did you say something?” asked her sister.