Page 121 of A Deal with the Devil

And then he grunted again because Evie had brought the poker right down on his head.

He toppled. No one moved to catch him.

“Oh dear,” Kitty said above the sound of her own blood rushing in her ears.

Devil caught her by the elbow. “What is it?”

“I promised Caroline she could stab him first.”

“My apologies.” His eyes were fierce but his hands were gentle as he stroked her cheek, tilted her head back to examine her neck. “Anyone else hurt?” he asked.

“Remarkably little damage, all things considered,” Pierce said, helping Priya to her feet, then Caroline.

Devil produced a handkerchief and pressed it to Kitty’s small wound, jaw clenched tight. She offered him a wobbly smile. “It doesn’t hurt much.”

“Much?”

“Stings a little, that’s all. My hand aches far more.”

“What’s wrong with your hand?” He grabbed for them both, sounding panicked and not at all like the sinister, confident Devil of Mayfair.

“She punched a vicar,” Evie explained proudly.

Devil raised a brow. “You’re punching vicars now?”

“Well, you weren’t here to entertain me. I’ve had a very dull night.”

“My fault entirely, then.”

“Clearly.”

Evie watched them with a startled, considering smile. “No one ever talks to Kitty that way.”

“No one talks to Devil that way either,” Wulf said, stomping in from outside, shirt torn, cheek bruised. There was a disconcerting amount of blood on his boots. “Told you he would find you.”

“Yes, but how did you find me?” Kitty asked.

“That wastrel who was watching your house?”

“Yes?”

“He works for me now.”

“Of course he does.” Kitty turned to Evie, who hovered, eyes wide, as she took in Wulf, Devil, Pierce. “Evie.”

Evie threw herself at her sister. Devil only narrowly avoided a fist to the eye. Kitty hugged her hard. She might have been laughing. Crying. Both. “You’re safe now. You’re safe.”

“And you’re betrothed!”

“Erm. About that…”

“You’re awfully green. Maybe you should sit down.”

“I’m fi—” Too late. Devil had plucked her off her feet and deposited her in the nearest chair.

Evie looked very near to swooning.

Kitty looked down at Portsmouth, still sprawled on the carpet, a dagger protruding from his leg. “Well, now what do we do with him?”