Page 92 of Devil in Her Details

Her tone . . .

The more she thought about it, the more she couldn’t stop. Lilly had been so dazed that the arduous journey to the Fury tavern hadn’t left much of an impression. And arduous only because her feet protested. However, her daze had put her in such a muddle that she’d tripped over her own two feet right in front of the tavern and, much to the dismay of Calliope and the severe scowl of Saint, had gone down rather inelegantly on the pavement.

How embarrassing!

She took a sip of cognac that Knight had provided, her roughly bandaged hands only slightly uncomfortable.

In any event, she would be leaving Brighton. That was simply the state of things. She had a life in London, or would have, once Calvington was dealt with. A brother who would be relieved to have her back. Friends, clients, and a future befitting her station. Brighton, for all intents and purposes, had been a chapter. An eventful one, she conceded, and one with a fascinating panther she hadn’t anticipated.

But a chapter, nonetheless.

The trouble was that she couldn’t quite remember the last time she’d thought about London as home. Couldn’t identify the precise moment Brighton had stopped being a temporary address and started being . . . well, something else. Not that it changed the outcome. She’d still be returning to London.

Is that so.

Lilly took a big sip of her cognac, forcing those words out of her mind. She glanced at Calliope, who approached the table and plopped into her seat.

“Sorry for leaving you alone,” the woman said. “My bladder has been quite against me lately.”

Lilly waved her apology aside. “My thoughts kept me company.”

“Not bad ones, I hope.”

“No, simply wondering how many itching fingers pilfered from my shop,” she fibbed.

Calliope raised a skeptical brow, not believing her. “Are you sure that’s what you’re worried about?”

Lilly sighed. “No, not really.” She’d at least snatched her valise with the most pressing items on her list, which were the leather for Dagger’s belt and the ointment he’d bought for her.

“I thought not,” Calliope murmured, taking a sip of her ale.

A small smile tugged at Lilly. She was pretty sure the woman knew exactly what she was stuck on. Oddly, she wasn’t all that worried about Dagger’s safety. Calvington’s method was so . . . ton . . . and he stood no chance against that panther. That wasn’t the issue. The trouble was that Calvington believed himself beyond consequence.

Lilly glanced down at her hands and back at Calliope. “Can you draft a letter for me?”

“Of course.”

A few moments later, a paper and quill appeared before them, courtesy of Saint, their silent guard.

Calliope dipped the quill in the pot of ink. “To whom shall I address it?”

Lilly didn’t hesitate. “The Times.”

Calliope nodded, no hesitation whatsoever.

Lilly considered the rest for a moment, turning the cognac glass slowly between her wrapped palms. Then she began to dictate the rumor that would provide Calvington, hopefully, with a piercing throb in his pride. Once the letter was penned and the ink dried, Calliope folded the paper, glancing over.

Saint, without being asked, again, appeared at their side. “I’ll see that it’s delivered.”

Lilly sent him a faint smile but barely managed to glimpse the man’s face before he strode off. Absolutely no progress.

“Don’t worry too much,” Calliope said with a touch of pity. “They are gruff, but they mean well.”

“I know. They’re only protecting their brother.” She would have done the same had it been Carlisle. Might even have gone a little bit feral.

“Thank you for understanding,” Calliope said softly.

Lilly nodded, taking another sip of cognac. She’d barely swallowed when the tavern door slammed open, causing her to jump.