Duchess of Sin Read Online Free Page A

ever forget
     or forgive.
    Conlan smiled. It had been a long road trying to lure Grant into the web of the Olympian Club. And yet in the end, all it
     had taken was Lady Cannondale’s charms.
    “Oh,” she moaned, hooking her bare leg around his hips, tugging him closer against her. “You
are
being terribly naughty tonight, Sir Grant.”
    He laughed hoarsely, bracing himself on his forearms to gaze down at her. “Not nearly as naughty as I can be, my dear Jane.”
    “Then why are you holding back?” She threaded her fingers through his bronze-colored hair. “Tell me again about how cleverly
     you persuaded Lord Ross to vote for the Union.…”
    Conlan had a sudden vision of Anna sighing as he kissed her, her mouth opening to him. What would she have done if he laid
     her back on one of those chaises, spreading her legs and tugging up her dress as Grant didwith Lady Cannondale? A little daredevil Anna might be, but he doubted she would welcome him with moans and sighs, her lithe
     legs wrapping around him tightly.
    But a man could always dream.
    He backed away, leaving Lady Cannondale and her lover to their business. He hurried out of the humid darkness of the conservatory
     and back into the whirling brightness of the ballroom. The music had reached an even faster pitch, the dance more frantic,
     and the laughter even louder.
    He peered into the card room, making sure Anna hadn’t retreated there. He had heard she enjoyed a hand of whist almost too
     much. But all was well there. The roulette wheel spun with abandon, notes of credit no doubt piling up. Sarah, one of the
     pretty faro bankers, noticed him watching and gave him a little nod. Another most successful evening at the Olympian Club.
    The buffet in the dining room had just been replenished and footmen now hurried to and fro with trays laden with fresh glasses
     of champagne. Conlan wouldn’t be needed for a little while longer. So he hurried down the stairs into the austere marble silence
     of the foyer. McIntire, who had long been the butler at Conlan’s family estate of Adair Court in County Kildare, had come
     out of retirement for this job and was calmly sorting invitations at the front door. No one else was around.
    “How did we do tonight, McIntire?” Conlan asked, leaning on the gilded balustrade. The cool quiet was delicious after the
     bacchanalia of the ball.
    “Quite well, Your Grace,” McIntire answered. Conlan had told him several times not to do all that “Your Grace”-ing at the
     club, but McIntire was set in his ways. “Every invitation that was sent was redeemed, and most membersbrought guests of their own. Shall we be expanding the membership list soon?”
    “That all depends on who applies.” Conlan tapped his fingertips on the gilded marble, thinking of Grant Dunmore and Lady Cannondale
     entwined on the chaise upstairs. If his cousin applied, they could assuredly add one more member. “Tell me, McIntire, do you
     remember a lady in a red and black gown arriving this evening? With blond hair?”
    McIntire looked affronted. “I remember
everyone
who arrives here, Your Grace. That is my job.”
    Conlan grinned. “And you are extraordinarily good at it. Who did she come with? A man?”
    Suddenly, he had the strangest urge to punch whoever dared bring Anna here tonight. The man who held her arm, leading her
     through the door to the questionable delights of the Olympian Club…
    “She came here with Lady Cannondale, Your Grace. In fact, she left a note for her ladyship before she departed.”
    Conlan laughed aloud. With Lady Cannondale—of course. He had vowed he wouldn’t be a fool over Anna Blacknall, and yet there
     he was wanting to fight her imaginary escort like a pub brawler. “Did she leave? Alone?”
    “Yes, Your Grace. She ran out of here so very quickly she left this.” McIntire picked up a black satin cloak from where it
     was draped on a chair.
    Conlan frowned as he reached for the slippery fabric. It still