Duchess of Sin Read online

  “Thank you for your assistance, Your Grace,” Katherine said. “However it came about, I am happy you were there to come to my daughter’s aid.”

  “As am I, Lady Killinan,” he answered. “Perhaps I might call in the next day or two to make sure Lady Anna suffers no ill effects from her fall?”

  Anna stared at him in shock. Just the thought of him calling in Henrietta Street was so—so prosaic. So ordinary. So very unlike him. An Irish rebel, sitting in her mother’s drawing room taking tea?

  She pressed her hand to her mouth to hold back a laugh. If she started giggling hysterically, her mother would be sure that she injured her head and call in battalions of doctors.

  Katherine arched her brow questioningly. She tilted her head, studying Adair with her cool blue eyes. “I suppose you may call, yes, Your Grace. I would like to have more conversation with you. We are practically neighbors in Kildare, are we not?”

  She nodded to the coachman, and the carriage lurched into motion. Anna glanced back over her shoulder to see that Adair watched them leave. He lifted his hand in farewell, then they turned the corner onto another lane, and he was gone.

  “Oh, my dear,” Katherine sighed. “Such a very odd day.”

  “Oh, yes,” Anna whispered. Odd indeed.

  Chapter Five

  Now, on top of everything else, he had an assassin to track down.

  Conlan watched Anna’s carriage until it vanished from view. She stared back at him, as if she wanted something, expected something, from him. A puzzled frown creased her brow, but there was no fear in her eyes. Any other young English lady would have been shrieking with panic after being shot at on her afternoon ride. After an initial flash of fear, Anna Blacknall just seemed—curious. Just as she had been at the Olympian Club.

  She wasn’t a woman to be easily frightened, that was clear. His barbaric behavior as he tried to get a reaction from Grant, being thrown from her horse—being kissed to within an inch of insanity in the conservatory. None of it scared her for long. Yet, in that instant when he first knelt beside her on the ground, he did see fear in her eyes. She didn’t seem to be there at all, but someplace far away, plunged into some old nightmare.

  Everyone who was in Ireland in ’98 had those nightmares, the fears and grief that never quite left. He couldn’t afford sympathy for a pampered Society lady like Anna Blacknall. But in that moment, he had the overwhelming urge to hold her close until all the panic was gone. He wanted to keep her safe.

  Which was the very last thing he could do. It was his fault that she was in danger today in the first place. And he would find out who did it. Find them and make them sorry indeed.

  The sound of laughter brought him back to the present moment. He shook away the image of Anna lying on the cold ground and looked over his shoulder. Most of the crowd had dissipated, going home to prepare for their evening parties, but a few people lingered. They watched him curiously. Perhaps they, like Lady Killinan, wondered why someone like him was back in Dublin now, right as the Union issue was boiling toward crisis. Surely they whispered of the way trouble followed him everywhere.

  Conlan could have told them the answer. All the McTeer men, back to the days of Brian Boru, were born with the dark mark, the curse of leading a fractious, quarrelsome family who were only united in hatred of each other and the rest of the world. The curse of trying to maintain their people and their ancient lands in a harsh country ruled by an iron-strong foreign power. That had been his calling, his purpose, ever since he was born. It was hard, dangerous, and lonely work, and as Duke of Adair it was his work alone.

  But he had never seen trouble like Anna Blacknall. Trouble with golden hair, soft skin, and fine blue eyes that saw far too much. He certainly did not need her kind of trouble, now of all times.

  And now too much attention was on him. He glared at the curious onlookers, sending them scattering into the park. Only one man remained: Grant Dunmore, Conlan’s long-lost cousin.

  If only he had stayed lost. He was the last person Conlan wanted to see now. Well, second to last—he did not especially want to see Anna Blacknall at the moment, either.

  He swung his dark glare onto Grant, who stood at the side of the lane holding the bridle of Anna’s horse. He didn’t flee like the others, but neither did he come closer. Perhaps he remembered the beating Conlan once gave him during that bloody lawsuit of his. The suit that tore the Irish branch of the family from the English once and for all.

  Conlan didn’t have time to deal with Grant now, not as his cousin deserved. In only a few hours, the Olympian Club would open for another night. And he had to go about catching a would-be murderer, one who wanted Conlan dead so much that they didn’t care who else they hurt.

  Or maybe the murderer stood before him now, his own kinsman.

  Conlan scooped his battered hat from the ground, dusting off the gravel. “What are you doing here, Grant?”

  “I could ask you the same thing. Why aren’t you skulking at Adair Court, as you have all these years?”

  Conlan grinned, enjoying his cousin’s obvious pique. Conlan had stayed mostly out of sight since he came to Dublin, concentrating his efforts on the Olympian Club and on meeting with his old contacts. But now his plans had to move forward, and he had to gain more visibility. The Union vote would be soon. To judge by today’s dramatic events, he had succeeded too well.

  Not that he enjoyed being shot at, even though he had too much experience of such things. And he definitely didn’t like Anna Blacknall being caught in the bullet’s path. He would have to be even more cautious in the future and even more ruthless in finding his enemies.

  Some enemies, though, were obliging enough to appear right in front of him.

  “Perhaps I am in Dublin for the very reasons you guessed, cousin,” Conlan said. “To enjoy the amenities only town can offer. Such fair ladies in our capital city, wouldn’t you agree? And they’re so—accommodating.”

  An angry red flush stained Grant’s face, and his fist tightened on the mare’s bridle, making her shy away. “You had best stay far away from Lady Anna in the future! I don’t even want to hear you speak her name, let alone make your filthy insinuations.”

  Well, well. There appeared to be something between Lady Anna and Grant after all. That was useful knowledge. “I insinuate nothing about Lady Anna. Any daughter of Lady Killinan must be above reproach, I’m sure.” Except when she donned a low-cut red gown and snuck into a masked ball. But that contradiction was only part of Anna’s strange allure. “Even one who is with you.”

  She was too good for Grant. A man like his cousin could never appreciate such a dichotomy in a woman, never tolerate complexity or independence. He could see the world only one way, and his narrowness would crush Anna eventually, no matter how strong or stubborn she was.

  It was a shame.

  Grant dropped the bridle and took a menacing step across the path. Conlan automatically braced himself for a brawl, planting his feet firmly on the ground and stretching his fingers toward the dagger concealed under his coat. But even as he did so, he knew it wasn’t needed. His cousin’s methods were much less direct than public brawling, and he never dirtied his pretty hands himself.

  “I don’t know what you think you understand about me, Adair,” Grant said, “but you will stay away from Lady Anna.”

  “Such a storm of fury over the lady. Yet I have heard no betrothal announcements.”

  Grant’s jaw tightened. “Things are different now, Adair. Ireland will soon be a part of Great Britain, a full part, and once I am allied with the Killinan estate I will have as much power as you. More even, than some mere Irish title. You had best watch your back.”

  “As I had to today?” Conlan said, his tone deceptively bland.

  “I had nothing to do with that! But I applaud whoever did.”

  “Even if it put your fine fiancée in danger? How ruthless of you, Grant.”

  “That was your fault, Adair!” Grant shouted. His temper obviou
sly burned hotter and hotter under that elegant surface, even as Conlan felt his own emotions covered with a layer of impervious ice. He couldn’t afford to give in to anger, to pummel Grant Dunmore as he so deserved. This was a battle that had far too much at stake.

  And he definitely could not be distracted by Anna Blacknall.

  “You’re obviously not fit for decent society, Adair, despite your high-sounding title,” Grant said. “Stay away from Lady Anna or…”

  “Or what?” Conlan took one slow step, then another and another toward Grant, until he stood a mere foot from his cousin. Alarm flared in Grant’s eyes, but to his credit he stood his ground. “Or you will challenge me to a duel, perhaps?”

  “It would give me great pleasure to call you out.”

  Conlan laughed coldly. “Don’t bother. I am no gentleman, remember? I could just shoot you in some dark alley at night, cousin, with no one the wiser. And I know how much you like to frequent dark alleys.”

  Grant gave him a sneer. “I am sure I have not a fraction of the knowledge of such places as you do—Your Grace. And I have too much honor to deal with you as you deserve. But if you dare trifle with my future wife…”

  Conlan stepped away, reaching for his horse’s reins. “I would not be so sure of Lady Anna’s intentions if I were you, Grant.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Just that there seem to be hidden depths to your golden doll that you could never fathom. I doubt she will be an easy pawn in your schemes.” He swung up into the saddle and turned away from Grant. “Good day, cousin. I’m sure we will meet again soon. I find Dublin suits me quite well.”

  Conlan rode out of the near-deserted park, leaving Grant still glaring after him. No, Anna would not be the placid, perfect Society wife, the pawn for ambition, that Grant expected. But could she unwittingly aid Conlan?

  It was an intriguing thought, and Conlan had to explore it further. He would do anything, use any tool to keep his people safe. But it was a thought that would have to wait until later. Right now, he had to track down his killer.

  Once he turned out of the gilded gates of St. Stephen’s Green, he moved away from the wide streets and pale marble mansions of refined Dublin and galloped toward the Liberties. His cousin was right about one thing: Conlan knew a great deal about dark alleyways. It was there, amid the narrow, fetid lanes and squalid nests of burrows and brothels, that his quarry would be found. He hoped that whoever it was enjoyed their ill-gotten coin while they could. Their moments were definitely numbered.

  Chapter Six

  You’re home at last! You’re very late.”

  Anna glanced up as she stepped through the front door to find Caroline hanging over the banister. She had pushed her spectacles atop her head, and the glass glinted in her untidy brown hair. There was an ink stain on her pale blue bodice.

  Anna almost laughed. Her sister looked just as untidy as she did herself! Who knew that such pursuits as riding in the park and studying Irish history could be so perilous?

  She stripped off her gloves and unpinned the ragged remains of her hat. Now that the danger was past, and she was out of the intoxicating presence of the Duke of Adair, she felt so weary. Weary and aching. Her hip throbbed where she had landed on the ground, and her head felt heavy. She longed to crawl into bed with a tisane and the newest French romantic novel and forget all about this most bizarre afternoon.

  But hiding under the bedclothes would just convince her mother that she was indeed ill, even as she claimed so vehemently to be well. She would be locked away with doctors and cups of beef tea for days when there was so much to do. So many mysteries to unravel.

  Katherine studied her closely as she removed her own hat, and her eyes were much too shrewd and discerning. It was always difficult to fool her mother, though Anna could certainly do it when she set her mind to it. She gave her mother a cheerful smile.

  “Caroline, I’m afraid your sister took a spill from her horse,” Katherine said. “I made the carriage come home very slowly so she would not be jostled.”

  “Which I said was quite unnecessary,” Anna said. “I am perfectly well.”

  “Anna fell from her horse?” Caroline cried. She dashed down the stairs and seized Anna’s hands in hers, carefully scanning her for injuries. “How can that be? You never fall! Unlike me; horses hate me.”

  “Psyche was startled, that’s all,” said Anna. “I was not paying proper attention.”

  “Were you flirting with someone?” Caroline asked.

  Anna laughed. “Of course! What else is the promenade hour for? I was talking to a duke.”

  “A duke! How fascinating,” said Caroline. “You’ve always said you wanted to be a duchess. Was he terribly handsome? Will you dance with him at the Fitzwalters’ ball?”

  “She will not,” Katherine interrupted, “because Anna must stay home and rest, not go dancing at balls.”

  “Mama!” Anna protested. But she could say no more, for the butler, Smythe, stepped forward to gain her mother’s attention.

  “I beg your pardon, my lady,” he said, “but the drawing teacher is waiting for you in the library.”

  “Oh, I had quite forgotten about that appointment in all the excitement,” Katherine said, a little frown creasing her pale brow. The Angel of Kildare never kept anyone waiting, not even teachers.

  “Shall I ask him to come back tomorrow?” Smythe asked.

  “You should ask him to go to perdition,” Caroline muttered.

  “Caroline, that is quite enough.” Katherine glanced at Anna, clearly torn between keeping her appointment and fussing over her daughter.

  Anna did not feel like being fussed over. “Go on, Mama. Caro will look after me for a while. This is the French drawing teacher, yes? You shouldn’t let him get away.”

  “Very well,” Katherine said reluctantly. “Send in some tea please, Smythe, and tell Monsieur Courtois I will be with him shortly. Caroline, take your sister to her chamber and make sure she lies down.”

  “Yes, Mama,” Anna said meekly. Before Caroline could argue again, Anna seized her arm and dragged her along up the stairs. Her maid, Rose, already waited in her chamber with hot water and a clean gown.

  As Anna set about tidying up, Caroline flopped down across the bed. Her spectacles flew across the coverlet. “I suppose with all the flirting and such you did not have time to speak to Mama about the lessons.”

  “I did,” Anna said. She winced as Rose dragged the brush through her tangled hair. “And she said she thought you might enjoy improving your drawing. You could use it to copy illustrations for your research or for sketching historical sites.”

  “That is true, I suppose,” Caroline said grudgingly. “But it will still take up so much time. I’m pressed to find spare hours to read as it is, what with dancing and deportment and all that.”

  “Perhaps if you do very well at drawing, you could persuade Mama to let you drop another lesson,” Anna said. Rose buttoned her into a fresh, long-sleeved muslin dress that hid the bruises on her hip and shoulder. “And maybe this French teacher is handsome. That would make the lessons fly by, I’m sure.”

  Caroline rolled over onto her stomach. “Don’t be silly, Anna. What use is a handsome Frenchman to me?”

  “Oh, yes, I forgot. You are practically betrothed to Lord Hartley and his library.”

  Caroline gave an unladylike snort. “Forget Lord Hartley and Frenchmen. Tell me about this duke. He must be terribly attractive to make you lose your seat on a horse. Is he more handsome than Grant Dunmore?”

  Anna closed her eyes, picturing Adair in her mind. His black hair and roughly chiseled face, the mocking laughter in his eyes. The anger, and fear, as he knelt beside her on the ground. “He is not nearly as handsome as Sir Grant. Some would say he is not handsome at all. But he is—complicated.”

  “Complicated?” Caroline propped her chin on her fist and stared at Anna keenly. “That sounds terribly interesting. Most of your suitors are no more complex than
their own hunting hounds.”

  Anna laughed. “Oh, thank you very much, Caro! I know I am far too shallow to attract any men you deem interesting, but they are not all that bad. Some are rather sweet.”

  “It’s not your fault. It’s just the way they’re brought up, like Papa. They aren’t taught to think for themselves, I suppose, or imagine a world different than the one they grew up in.”

  Anna pushed away the rice powder Rose offered and went to sit on the bed with Caroline. “Well, this duke is Irish, with some kind of terribly ancient title, so maybe he was brought up differently than all our Ascendancy suitors.”

  “An Irish duke? Now that is very interesting. How did he come by this title? Is he Catholic?”

  Anna wondered those things herself, and so much more. Adair was an intriguing puzzle, one she longed to decipher, clue by intriguing clue. “I have no idea about his title, though I think his estate is near Killinan Castle. And I suppose he is Catholic, though I don’t know for sure.”

  “However did you meet him?”

  Anna could hardly tell her the truth. That would be her own secret, and Adair’s, forever. “When he came to my aid today, of course. He was the first to reach me when I fell.”

  “How romantic. A dashing, not-quite handsome Irish duke coming to your rescue. I’m sure he has many tales that would be so useful for my research. When can I catch a glimpse of him?”

  “Soon, maybe. He asked if he could call on us here, and Mama said yes.”

  “Mama agreed?” Caroline said, her eyes wide with astonishment. “Oh, my. Now I wish I had gone riding with you today.”

  There was a knock at the door, and a parlor maid came in with a curtsy. “Lady Cannondale is downstairs, Lady Anna. She says she wants to see if you are well.”

  Anna nearly laughed aloud. The butler would be quite chagrined at all the activity so late in the day! Smythe was quite proper and anxious to uphold all the proprieties, including calling hours. “Send her up to my sitting room, please, and ask the butler to arrange for some refreshments.”