Page 67 of A Deal with the Devil

Chapter Seventeen

Kitty’s stomach dropped so fast it might have bounced off the parquet floor. She couldn’t be sure, as a hot flush of embarrassment was currently turning her bright red and making her eyes burn.

He was Devil.

He was the Earl of Birmingham.

And she was Kitty Caldecott, shopkeeper with a father in debt up to his nostrils.

Devil rose from his chair, unjustly handsome and at his ease. “Kitty. I—”

“I’m so sorry,” she interrupted hastily. This served her right. For pushing through without thinking. For letting her head be turned.

Idiot. Idiot.

She tried very hard to smile at the woman but wasn’t sure her face was working properly. “Entirely my fault.”

She whirled on her heel and darted for the safety of the hall and Pan’s judgmental sheep.

“Kitty.” Devil caught up to her almost immediately because he was twice her height and life was just that unfair. His hand curled firmly but gently around her elbow. “Wait.”

“I’m so sorry,” she said again, physically unable to meet his eyes. They were too green. Too clear. And she just wanted to disappear. “I didn’t mean to intrude.”

“Just come back inside.”

She finally looked at him, mostly so he could see the depths of her horror at the suggestion. She had already humiliated herself. Why on earth would she tarry? He was sadistic, clearly. Or his sense of humor needed immediate work.

He just shook his head, amused, fond. He had the audacity to look fond. Because he was sophisticated and debonair. Being caught by the woman he had fondled in a carriage with another woman far more suited to his rank and privilege was nothing new to him.

It was bloody well new to Kitty.

He hadn’t done anything wrong, not really. She had no claims on him. And she did not believe in jealousy.

Technically.

But she also did not believe in stewing in her own misery. Or worse, awkwardness. She was too used to bearing insults with a smile. Not this time. Not like this. Not here.

“Listen to me, firecracker.”

Not pet names. She could not handle pet names. Not right now.

Someone was hammering nails again. Or was that just the headache suddenly invading her skull? Devil tugged her back over the threshold. She ought to have kicked him in the kneecap and bolted. She couldn’t think why she didn’t.

“Mrs. Dimitriou, may I introduce Miss Caldecott?”

The woman put down her cup of coffee with a smile. “A pleasure, Miss Caldecott. Please call me Yelena. I’ve heard so much about you.”

“I am sure you have.” Kitty finally smiled, and it was so self-deprecating she actually felt Devil scowl down at her.

“I just adore your bookshop.”

“Oh. Thank you.” She did not know what to do with her hands. She rubbed her breastbone.

Devil took her wrist gently, folding his fingers around hers. “I asked Yelena here to meet you, actually. So you have excellent timing.”

Why was he prolonging her torture? Why would Mrs. Dimitriou want to meet her?

Oh.