Taking her place on the satin upholstered chair Devorlane Hawley had pulled out from the small supper table for her, Cass hoped her expression was both neutral as a basin of tepid water and completely befitting someone who had spent the afternoon quietly cloistered in the library as opposed to someone who had been forcibly restrained from leaping from a moving coach and nearly fracturing her skull.

Dining with the devil required a certain length of spoon, after all. She ...