Yes, dangerous. Despite his making light of the word, he was concerned about drawing her any deeper into the shadowy netherworld of intrigue and deceit. Yes, she might have a spine of steel. But…
Unlike me, her heart is unblackened by sordid realities.
“I thought perhaps you might not come.” Anna rose from her perch on the fountain’s marble pool as he approached.
“I considered absenting myself, except I decided there wasn’t a snowball’s chance in hell that you wouldn’t come track me down,” he replied.
“A wise decision.”
Sunlight played over her face and he felt a painful twist in his gut. She was sweetness and light, while he was dark as the Devil.
“No, it’s a fool’s decision,” he murmured, offering her his arm. “Would you care to walk within the walled rose garden? The stones offer a shelter from the breeze, along with a modicum of privacy.”
“Very well.” Anna set her slim hand on his sleeve.
Devlin made himself look away, willing himself not to think about how her graceful fingers had felt entwined in his hair. It was, however, damnably hard as the heat of her gloved palm began to penetrate the layers of kidskin and wool.
Clearing his throat, he tried to distract his evil thoughts. “By the by, I am curious. You and your younger sister both pen literary works, and Miss Caro has informed me that one of the Oxford poetry journals has recently published one of her sonnets. Does your elder sister write as well?”
“Yes,” answered Anna. But she did not elaborate.
“Is she, too, published?”
“Yes.”
“What sort of writing?” he pressed.
Anna hesitated. “I am not at liberty to say.”
Devlin considered the reply for a long moment. “Does Wrexham know?”
The question provoked a peal of laughter. “That is a story in itself, but yes, of course he knows.”
“And the earl approves?”
Amusement gave way to a frown. “Whether he does or doesn’t is beside the point. It wouldn’t change Olivia’s passion for what she does.”
“And yet he could, by all husbandly rights, forbid her to publish.”
Her expression turned martial. “Ha! I should like to see him try.”
Devlin quirked a grin. ?
??Actually so would I.” The earl was a highly decorated war hero who had vanquished countless French dragoons in hand-to-hand combat. But facing off against one of the Sloane sisters would be the ultimate test of a man’s will and nerve. He wasn’t quite sure on whom he would place his money.
“Be that as it may, there won’t be any fight over her activities,” said Anna. “Wrexham is quite proud of what she does.”
Another novelist? Devlin tried to think of what other authors were wildly popular with the reading public. No name, other than Sir Sharpe Quill, came to mind.
“Scholarly books, perhaps?” he guessed. “Like your late father, is she an expert on some esoteric subject like rare beetles or butterflies?”
“No, Olivia is not overly fond of bugs,” she replied dryly. “But enough of Olivia and her secrets—I assure you I won’t let the cat out of the bag. We have more important things to discuss.”
“Such as?” asked Devlin, even though he was fairly certain he didn’t want to know the answer.
“You are an experienced gamester,” she went on.
He maintained a wary silence. A cardinal rule in gambling was to hide any show of emotion.