Page 125

Envy was already filled with patrons, music electrifying the air. A balcony presented a woman singing in a voice that belonged to a fairy queen. Dancers whirled below her, eager to see and be seen.

The side doors opened to Gluttony: offering every delicacy, every sweet, every fanciful dessert in the most luxurious of surroundings. Red velvet, gold, and paintings of feasting revelers showcased roasted peacocks and lamb, and tiny potatoes swimming in butter and herbs. Champagne in glasses shaped like lilies. Towers of cheese, biscuits stamped with pitchforks, jellied pâtés molded into Greek temples, castles, swans and songbirds. Pineapples, raspberry trifle, currant cakes dusted with sugar and candied violets. Strawberry cake.

In the entrance hall, Tom smirked at everyone, wearing his best lilac hat to match the faded bruise around his eye. He spotted Kitty immediately. “Thank God,” he said, echoing the brothers Winchester.

“About time,” Devil said moments later when Kitty walked into his study.

The club bustled with excitement. She had seen an entire boar leaving the kitchen, dressed with apples and yellow lilies. A roasted peacock sewn back into its feathers. Several flower shops had emptied their shelves in every corner of the building. London might well be out of flowers entirely. Courtesans, each more beautiful than the last, floated through the rooms, flirting, laughing, offering champagne. There was music, dance, feasting. Every kind of entertainment, as promised.

And here the devil sat. Brooding.

Not just brooding.

“Are you sulking?” Kitty asked.

“No.”

She raised her eyebrows. He was absolutely sulking. “Are you quite certain?”

“Where have you been?” he asked evenly, but the effort clearly cost him. He looked ready to bite into her like fruit. She tried not to like it, but failed.

“I’m sorry, I nearly forgot,” she admitted.

“Forgot?” he echoed, tone hardening. He rose to his feet, so slowly and carefully that it was faintly threatening.

Very well, it was entirely threatening.

“You forgot where I lived?” he said.

“To bring you the vowel.” She hadn’t forgotten, of course. She had just been putting it off. But a deal was a deal. Especially a deal with the Devil.

She plucked it out from inside her boot and placed it on the desk.

“You had it in your shoe?” he asked, amused. “This entire time?”

“Mostly.” She pushed it closer to him. “Was it very important? This viscount who wagered his house?”

“It’s not important in the least.”

“It’s not?”

“Kitty, do you know how many houses we’ve collected?”

“No. And don’t tell me,” she muttered. She frowned. “You put it in your pocket that Devil’s Night. I thought it meant something. That’s why you gave in to the blackmail.”

“I admit it would look bad for business if someone managed to steal from me,” he conceded. “My reputation does most of the work for me now.”

“Oh. Well, I did promise to give it back when my sister was safe. I should have given it back that night.”

He ignored it. “How is your throat?”

She touched the tiny cut, mostly healed and barely visible. “It’s fine. As you well know.”

“How would I know? I haven’t seen you in a week.”

“You sent three doctors to look at it,” she reminded him wryly. “Three.”

But he hadn’t come. Not once.