The Secret Wallflower Society - Jillian Eaton Page 0,112

change.

She loved Lucas.

She loved him.

The only question that remained was whether he loved her in return…and how the devil she was supposed to find the Devil of Duncraven.

Chapter Eleven

Percy looked for Lucas for two weeks. It was useless. He was a ghost. As invisible as air. And after she’d gone everywhere she thought he might be and still couldn’t find him, she went in search of someone who could.

It was pouring rain and half past midnight when she snuck out of the house. Helena was fast asleep, dreaming of wedding bells, no doubt. She’d kindly delayed her wedding to Stephen until the autumn. “It’ll be prettier then anyways,” the countess had said with a flippant toss of her head.

But Percy knew the truth.

Both Helena and Calliope were worried about her. Oh, they hadn’t spoken as much in so many words. But she’d seen their concerned glances. Their raised brows. Twice she’d even caught them whispering together. She had told them repeatedly that she was fine, but they didn’t believe her. She could hardly blame them. After all, she wasn’t fine. And she wouldn’t be fine, until she tracked down Lucas.

The hackney driver believed she was jesting when she told him she wanted to be taken to Seven Dials. She doubled his fee for the trouble, and soon found herself inside a crowded tavern called the Fox and Bull.

It wasn’t difficult to locate Artemis Bishop. She was the only woman there.

And she was standing on the bar.

Singing.

Squeezing between two drunken sailors, Percy waited until the voluptuous blonde had finished her ballad and climbed down.

“Excuse me,” she said, her voice bold where it once would have been soft. “I need to talk to you. About a mutual…friend.”

If Artemis was surprised to see her, it didn’t show in her expression. Pulling a handkerchief out from between her breasts, which were on full display courtesy of the corset she wore over a plain white shirt, she dabbed at her perspiring brow before tossing the handkerchief onto the bar.

“How did you get here?” she asked, yelling to be heard above the crowd.

“What?” Percy yelled back.

“I said, how did you–come on. This is no place to chitchat.” Taking hold of Percy’s arm, Artemis dragged her to a table in the rear. There was a man sitting there, but one glance from Artemis, and he immediately scurried off. “Walk into my study,” she said, gesturing to the now vacant chair with a grand sweep of her arm. “I’ve been waiting for you to show up.”

“You have?” Drawing off her hood, Percy flicked a quick glance behind her before she sat down.

“Indeed. You just won me five shillings. I bet one of Molly’s girls I’d see you before the end of the month,” she explained at Percy’s bemused stare. “And here you are.”

“Why would you make such a wager?” Percy asked.

“Because you’re in love with the Devil of Duncraven. Obviously.” Crossing her legs, Artemis flagged down a barmaid and ordered two ales. “Haven’t had any luck finding him, have you?”

“No,” Percy admitted, drumming her fingers on the edge of the table. “I haven’t.”

“And you won’t. Not unless he wants you to. Quite elusive, our Lucas. Cheers,” said Artemis when the barmaid returned promptly with their ale.

After a moment’s pause, Percy picked up her tankard and took a sip. Why not, she thought? When in Seven Dials, and all that. But no sooner had she tried the brew than she immediately regretted her decision.

“Oh,” she gasped, her eyes watering as she slammed the ale down. “That tastes horrible.”

“Like horse piss,” Artemis agreed. “But it gets better towards the bottom.”

“I believe I’ll take your word for it.” With a shudder, Percy nudged her tankard aside. “Ms. Bishop–”

“Absolutely not.” The blonde’s nose wrinkled. “It’s Artemis if you wager a cuff upside the head, and Art if you don’t. Bishop is reserved for my enemies, which I don’t think we’re going to be. Are we, Your Grace?”

“Just plain Percy is fine.”

“Just plain Percy,” Artemis repeated. Resting her elbow on the table and her chin in the palm of her hand, she studied Percy with sharp blue eyes and a spider’s smile. “I don’t think there’s anything plain about you, is there? I always wondered who would have the pleasure of bringing the devil to his knees. I’ll be the first to say that I wouldn’t have put my money on a shy, pint-sized duchess. Lucas never struck me as the blueblood type. But you’re different, aren’t you? Not the usual sort of