Page 123 of A Deal with the Devil

Chapter Thirty-One

As predicted, Kitty could not bring herself to sell her betrothal ring.

She fiddled with it as Devil brought her and Evie to his house, dawn streaking the sky with colors as bold as a tulip field, and then again when they left the next afternoon.

They did not go to their father’s house.

They reclaimed Galahad from the Spinster House and then found themselves at the Golden Griffin. Kitty always found herself at the Golden Griffin. Home was books. Home was Evie.

And Devil.

Two out of three wasn’t so bad. She had no cause to complain. She had entered this with clear eyes. And though the betrothal had not been called off publicly, it was only a matter of days, surely. Today, maybe.

Or the next.

She checked the papers daily so carefully that Evie bought her a magnifying glass.

It had only been a few days. Exactly six.

Devil was concentrating on the grand opening of the Sins, which was occurring…At this very moment. He did not have time to formally reject her. He was busy. Now that Portsmouth was on the run, as Devil predicted, the sabotage of the club, great and small, had ceased. There were no tea deliveries because she still had masses of tea left. No strawberry cake. No reason to attend the Seven Deadly Sins inaugural evening. There was an invitation on the table in the back room. Evie had pinned it to the wall with a very pointed expression. Not to mention actual pointing.

“Only six days,” Kitty reminded herself.

“What was that?” Evie asked from the back room.

“Nothing.”

She could wait until tomorrow. One more day was nothing.

Twilight was soft and blue at the windows. Most of Mayfair was no doubt dressing for the Sins, whether or not they had an invitation.

She could not wait until tomorrow.

“Evie, help me with my dress.”

Miss Peridot marched into the shop not long after, her reticule redolent of raw onion. She blinked at Kitty. “You look like a gold candlestick.”

Kitty’s gold dress was the only article of clothing she possessed that would not have her turned away at the club doors. “Thank you?” It was not the most encouraging thing Miss Peridot could have said, but also not the worst.

“A very pretty candlestick,” she allowed.

Evie grinned, sorting books from one of the boxes that Kitty had finally had a chance to catalogue. Caroline had declined to reclaim any of her belongings. Miss Campbell’s parents, being better actors than anyone had credited, had feared for their daughter’s life by association and spirited her away before she could meet Caroline at the iron oak. Caroline had kept checking for messages, finding Kitty’s note and eventually deciding to respond. Miss Campbell had been in a carriage bound for Galloway for most of the last month, and a message had been sent to bring her back after Portsmouth disappeared. Caroline had invited her friend to move into Portsmouth House in Grosvenor Square, where Evie had already been for tea. She and Caroline had much in common, having evaded a murderer.

Portsmouth had not shown his face since.

Kitty and Evie had moved into the shop’s back room until they could find rooms to rent. They might not have a pleasure hall to run, but they had been busy too.

“Where’s that big, strapping fellow who usually lurks outside?” Miss Peridot demanded.

“Wulf and Godric are busy elsewhere, I’m afraid.”

“No they’re not,” Evie corrected her. “Wulf is across the street trying to be subtle.”

“He is?”

“He’s a bit big for subtle,” Miss Peridot said. “Delightfully so. I don’t care for slender calves, myself.”

Kitty felt a wash of affection. She had missed his and his brother scowling at the Ladies’ Association for Moral Standards until they fled in a flurry of parasols and offended gasps. Accepting cups of tea, helping ladies with their packages.