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The lock answered with a friendly little snick

Devlin slid the drawer open, revealing a sundy-colored Moroccan leather Seizing it with both hands, he snapped open the cover and eagerly thuh the sheaf of papers

All of which were blank

Bloody Hell Blowing out a disgusted sigh, he was about to drop it back in the drahen he spotted a dog-eared corner of paper sticking up from beneath a pasteboard box of pencils and pen nibs

He cautiously lifted it up and saw yet another pile of paper The top sheet was covered riting in a neat, feminine hand

His hesitation lasted for only an instant He would skies, and if it were a personal diary of girlish hopes and feelings, he would put the rest back unread His un to the contrary, he did have so a lady’s privacy

Taking up the pile—ye gods, it felt more like a novel than a diary—Devlin carried it over to the diamond-panedThe script was rather se into the light and then began to read

After reaching the botto to the next page

Perhaps he needed spectacles, for the words weren’tany sense Unless…

No Impossible

Devlin es, then took a randohout the manuscript, just to be sure he wasn’t mistaken

“Bloody Hell”

This tiined that Anna was hiding, this was certainly not one of them

And yet, the truth was undeniable Even if the names “Emmalina” and “Count Alessandro” hadn’t been fanizable

He wondered what the ton would say if they ever learned that one of the entlemen in all of London was not a “he” but a “she”