Page 80 of A Deal with the Devil

She felt his eyes on her all the way to St. George Church in Hanover Square, where the forbidden love of a dairymaid and a duke was celebrated. And where a side gate to a rose garden formed an iron oak tree with black leaves.

This corner of London was not only the purview of a duke and his dairymaid—a certain duchess had also visited. In volume seven of The Delights of the Duchess. It was a simple gate tucked away and unnoticed. But a strapping coachman had once pressed the duchess against it under the stars. Several times.

Meet me at the oak tree.

Was this what Lady Caroline had meant? The duchess had called it her favorite oak tree in England.

Kitty ought to have realized it sooner. It felt possible. Right, even.

Lady Caroline was not here now, of course. But she knew the place. Maybe she returned once in a while?

It was worth a try.

Books really did save lives.

The last stop was the Golden Griffin Bookshop, where Godric stood outside, arms crossed, window shining clean behind him.

“I’ll wait for you,” Devil said to Kitty, nodding to his carriage waiting at the corner. “I’m taking you home.”

She tried not to feel warm inside. Failed.

But she also sold three copies of Desires of a Duchess volume one, and four copies of The Curse of the Mummy, which she’d had specially bound with Egyptian hieroglyphs. No one knew what they meant yet, but they were very popular nonetheless. There was happy chatter, favorite books recommended to other readers.

In short, it was perfect. The tour had centered her, made her feel more like herself and less like she was running in circles. She felt better. Calmer. Ready to do whatever needed doing.

Which, of course, meant everything fell spectacularly to pieces.

Almost immediately.

She found the culprit behind her father asking why the shop smelled like soup. Someone had managed to wedge a turnip under the corner of a bookcase. It must have been several weeks ago, judging by the state of it. She popped it loose and went to the back to toss it into the alley, so as not to have to carry it past any lingering customers. It squelched as it hit the ground and rolled away. “Vile thing.”

As if summoned, another vile thing emerged.

From behind her, tucked into the shadows of the alley. Before she could react, before she could punch or kick or scream, a hand slapped over her mouth. “Someone wants a word,” a man grunted in her ear. He stank of cheroot smoke.

She struggled even though she knew it was in vain. He picked her up like she was a rag doll, forcing her down the alley and out the side to a hackney. Her screams were muffled, barely loud enough to be heard over the fiddle from a pub down the way.

Her captor forced her closer to the carriage, ripping the door open. She managed to clip him in the kneecap with her heel when he hauled her off her feet. It was enough for him to swear at her, not enough to drop her. She scratched at the hand stealing her breath but to no avail. It was becoming difficult to breathe. He shoved her into the carriage.

Where was everyone?

A useless question. Pedestrians didn’t venture back here, and the one person watching from a balcony two buildings down turned away. Her customers were inside. Devil was waiting for her out front.

And then he wasn’t.

There was a soft grunt of pain before her captor went flying into a heap on the pavement. Another sound, this time of something cracking. A nose? A bone?

Devil appeared in the carriage opening, eyes chillingly furious. They roamed over her. “Did he hurt you?”

She shook her head as he pulled her out. Her ankle protested the weight of the rest of her leg, buckling. Devil caught her. It gave her captor just enough time to crawl into the street and scramble to his feet, into a dead run. Devil swore, loud and vicious.

“Wulf,” he barked as the man in question came around the corner, dagger in hand. “I want him caught.”

Wulf nodded and took off in pursuit. Devil glared at the hackney’s coachman, who reached for the reins. “You don’t move, understand?”

Something in Devil’s expression had him gulping and nodding. That expression softened, if only briefly, when Devil glanced down at Kitty. Her teeth chattered as she tried to catch her breath. “He did hurt you. I’ll kill him.”

“I hurt myself kicking him,” she admitted. “Not very heroic of me, I’m afraid.”