How had she let this happen? Kat had to find a way to fix things, a way to keep Devon St. John from being harmed by their mistakes.

It was with a sinking heart she walked into the library, Devon behind her, as Malcolm closed the door and turned to face them.

Chapter 19

I love happy endings. I had one myself, you know.

Lord Rutherford to his lady love, Mrs. Montesque-Drumme, while watching the fireworks at Vauxhall Gardens

“Pssh.” Malcolm rubbed his neck and looked at his sister and best friend. “I dinna know where to begin. You know better than to do such a thing.”

They didn’t say a word, each avoiding the other’s gaze. Malcolm wondered what he should do. “What happened out there? You two were supposed to be dancing.”

“We were dancing,” Kat said, her cheeks pink. “At first.”

Devon nodded. “I was letting Kat lead for a while—”

“You let Kat lead?” Bloody hell, what was wrong with the man?

“Aye. And somehow, it just felt…good. So I kissed her and, well, that felt even better. So I suppose I forgot where I was and—” Devon raked a hand through his hair.

There was no mistaking the husky timbre of St. John’s voice or the slanted glance Kat threw his way.

They were lovers. Malcolm had suspected as much, but the heated looks along with the passionate kiss and intimate hold he’d witnessed between them on the dance floor proved it beyond any doubts.

Perhaps he should—The door flew open and Murien stood in the doorway, Fiona peering anxiously over her shoulder.

Murien walked in, her hand fisted about an object. “Do not continue this farce.”

“Farce?” Malcolm scowled. He’d never liked Fiona’s sister, and every day he was coming to like her less if that was possible.

Murien’s lip curled as she looked at Kat. “You are trying to trap Devon into marriage. Well, I won’t stand for it.”

Devon’s frown was quicker than Kat’s. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. Kat has never tried to entrap me or anyone else.”

“She is not an innocent. Nor is she without fault. I think you should put her to the test.”

“What test?” Devon asked, his irration mounting.

Murien held out her hand. There, on her palm, lay the St. John talisman ring.

Fiona gasped. “Murien! Where did you get that?”

“Thank God it has been found.” Devon started forward, but Murien’s fingers closed over it.

Malcolm had to unclench his jaw to speak. “You stole that out of St. John’s room.”

Murien regarded him with a triumphant sneer. “Only after I saw you, dear brother, borrowing it.”

Malcolm’s face heated. He glanced at Devon, then shrugged. “I just wanted Kat to see it.”