Duchess of Sin (22 page)

W
ill you wear the pearls, Lady Anna?”

“Hmm?” Anna murmured, startled by her maid’s words. Rose had been dressing her hair in silence, leaving her free to daydream.
To remember last night with Conlan in every single, burning detail. That small office, bound by the misty night and her desperate
desire suddenly set free, seemed like the real world and her familiar bedchamber the dream.

“Will you wear the pearls, my lady?” Rose repeated as she pushed the last pin into Anna’s upswept coiffure. “They go so well
with the gown.”

Anna glanced in the mirror at the reflection of her gown, freshly pressed and hung on the wardrobe door. White again, of course,
silk trimmed with fine lace.

She thought of her red dress, hidden deep under her bed. It was rather rumpled now, the hem torn and the lace damp from her
mad dash through the mist. She could never give it back to Jane now.

She closed her eyes and saw Conlan’s green eyes watching her as she eased the gown from her body, leaving her
completely naked before him. Bare in every way, her body, her secrets, the shame of the past. Then it had seemed so necessary
to lay all before him, to seek forgetfulness and refuge in his lovemaking. And she found that, and so much more, in his arms.

Now, in the light of day, in her familiar home, uncertainty crept in. Could she trust him? For she knew very well that she
could not trust herself.

“Yes, the pearls,” she said. She would look the perfectly respectable debutante for Grant Dunmore’s party. No one would imagine
that she spent last night playing Adair’s doxy.

The door suddenly flew open, and Caroline rushed in. She wore her pale blue muslin evening gown, but her white satin sash
was untied and her hair not yet dressed.

“Caro, you will be very late,” Anna said.

“I know, and we don’t want to make a bad impression on your favorite suitor. But I need to borrow your blue shawl.”

“Of course, if you’ll let me dress first.” As Anna stood to let Rose help her into her gown, Caroline plopped down at the
foot of the bed as if she was in no hurry to leave or finish her own toilette. Anna didn’t mind. Company kept her from thinking
too much.

“Is it true Sir Grant has a large library of old manuscripts?” Caroline asked.

“I have no idea,” Anna answered. She smoothed the lacy cap sleeves over her shoulders. “He doesn’t seem especially scholarly.
Where did you hear that?”

“I saw Lord Hartley in the bookshop a few days ago, and he told me Sir Grant’s father was a great collector of works on ancient
Ireland. I haven’t heard of any sale, so perhaps they are still in his library.”

“Ah, yes, your future husband, Lord Hartley,” Anna teased. “You’ll just have to ask Sir Grant.”

“If he does have such a collection, your marriage to him could be most beneficial.”

“That’s what I live for,” murmured Anna. “To be beneficial to you, Caro.” She felt a twinge of irritation that everyone seemed
to think her engagement to Grant Dunmore was a
fait accompli.
It was far from that, especially since she had made love with Conlan, Grant’s cousin and his enemy. But she couldn’t forget
what a good, safe choice Grant could be. “He has not even made an offer, though.”

“He will, I’m sure.” Caroline gave her a searching look. “If you want him to, that is.”

“Everyone seems sure I should.”

“Sure you should do what?” Katherine said. She swept into the room dressed in her bronze-colored satin and lace, a leather
box in her hands. “My goodness, it looks as if my girls are having a party in here!”

Anna examined her mother’s face as Rose twitched her hem into place and fastened the pearl necklace around her neck. Katherine
looked pale today, her smile strained. It wasn’t like her usual calm serenity, but perhaps it was just another sign of the
uncertainty they all lived with these days. Maybe a wedding would be the distraction Katherine needed, the prospect of one
less daughter to worry about.

“Caro thinks I should marry Sir Grant,” Anna said. “She heard he possesses a fine collection of manuscripts.”

“I’m sure that is not the only thing to recommend him,” said Katherine.

Anna laughed. “To Caro it is.”

“That will make finding a husband for Caroline much easier then.” Katherine set her box on the dressing table and tugged Caroline
off the bed. She briskly tied her daughter’s sash and smoothed her rumpled sleeves. “Go get your maid to finish your hair,
dear, we must leave very soon. The carriage is ordered for eight.”

Caroline dashed away, grumbling, and Katherine sent Rose after her, saying she would help Anna finish.

“Is something wrong, Mama?” Anna asked as her mother closed the door.

“Not at all. I just brought you something. A little gift.” Katherine took the box from the table and handed it to her.

Anna lifted the lid and exhaled sharply. The diamonds and pearls of her grandmother’s tiara sparkled up at her. “Mama! Grandmother’s
tiara?”

“Yes. You seemed to enjoy it when you wore it to the queen’s birthday ball a couple of years ago. I thought it was time it
went into your safekeeping.”

“I remember that ball,” Anna said. It was the last grand occasion at Dublin Castle before the Uprising. A lavish show of British
and Ascendancy power, glittering and cold. “But surely this is much too valuable to give into
my
hands. I am the unreliable daughter, am I not?”

Katherine laughed. “You will appreciate its beauty much more than Eliza or Caroline ever could. Besides, soon enough you will
be a married lady, a Society hostess in your own right. You will have need of it then.”

Anna stared down at the sparkling jewels and felt their full weight bearing down on her. They meant so much more than mere
diamonds and pearls. They meant her family name, going back generations, and all it stood for.
The power and expectation of position—and the falseness of it. Everything she had been running from was catching up to her.
Soon she would stumble and fall, and that expected life would catch her.

“Mama,” she said. “Do you want me to marry Grant Dunmore, if he makes an offer?”

Katherine gently smoothed a curl back from Anna’s cheek. Her hand was soft and cool, and she smelled of lily perfume. It made
Anna achingly remember childhood, and the illusory safety of the nursery at Killinan Castle. Back then, she was sure nothing
could touch her because her mother, an angel, watched over her.

She looked up at her mother and saw that Katherine’s face was pale and thin, her eyes shadowed with concern. Perhaps now it
was Anna’s turn to take care of
her,
and of Caroline, too.

“I want you to be happy and secure,” Katherine said. “I want that for all my girls.”

“Is Eliza happy and secure?”

Katherine laughed again, shaking her head. “She is most assuredly happy. I am not sure she will ever be secure.”

“And you will always worry about her?”

“Of course. She is my daughter.” Her palm smoothed over Anna’s cheek. “I worry about you, too.”

Anna reached up and caught her mother’s hand in her own. “There is no need to worry, Mama, for I am quite well. I will make
the right decision, and I will make you proud.”

“Darling, I
am
proud of you! How could I not be? I just worry at times that perhaps because of—of what happened…”

Anna froze. “With that soldier, you mean?”

Katherine’s hand tightened. “Yes. That it might make you frightened of marriage.”

“No. It was so long ago. And I know marriage is very—different than that. I saw you and Papa, who were so happy, and Eliza
and Will, and I know what it can be.” She could never tell her mother the truth—that in Adair’s arms, his bed, she had found
the joy of sex and left the violence of that long-ago moment behind. That with him, she had been free for one precious night.

Anna closed the lid on the box and gave her mother a smile. “Please, Mama, don’t worry about me. I promise I will do as you
wish.”

“Anna,” Katherine said uncertainly, “I fear you might have mistaken my words.…”

Anna shook her head. “I haven’t. I will be happy and secure. I will marry, and have children, and wear this tiara to grand
balls so that everyone will say I am the queen of Ireland, your worthy daughter. I will even help you look after Caroline.
I haven’t been much use to you, but I will be now, I promise.”

“I want you to promise me you will be happy.”

“I will.”

“Then that is all I need.” Katherine kissed her cheek. “Are you ready for the party? I fear we will be late and that will
never do.”

“Of course.” And she was. She was ready, at long last, to face the future.

Katherine paused by the window to see if the carriage was ready and was caught by a flash of movement in the
gathering darkness. It was Nicolas Courtois, leaving after Caroline’s lesson. The collar of his coat was drawn up against
the cold wind, but he wore no hat and his pale hair shimmered. He paused before crossing the street, and she saw his perfect
profile etched in the gloom, like an ancient prince on a coin. Yet his brow was furrowed as if he concealed dark thoughts.
Then he strode across the street and vanished into the night.

Katherine released a breath she hadn’t even realized she held. She curled her hands into tight fists, as if she could physically
fight away the feelings that took hold of her whenever she saw him. They were such overpowering, unfamiliar emotions—lust,
tenderness, need. For a young Frenchman! She hated that terrible sensation of not being in control.

She counseled Anna to be cautious, to seek happiness in security and duty, yet it seemed she could no longer do the same for
herself.

She stared at the empty spot where he had stood, seeing again his tall figure and his handsome face. His sad eyes. Each time
they met since that crazy interlude in the library, they were painfully polite and correct. He reported on Caroline’s progress
and she remarked on the weather, and they parted after a few minutes, having barely even looked at each other.

Yet all the time, she remembered the feel of his lips on hers. The music of his voice that made her tremble. Yes, she wanted
him, longed for him. When she was a girl, before her dutiful marriage, her staid, faithful years with Lord Killinan where
her house and her children were her consolations, she had dreamed of someone like Nicolas Courtois. Someone handsome, tender,
artistic, and passionate.

He had never appeared then, and she thought such a man could only live in dreams. And she had given up on dreams long ago.

Why, oh why, did her dreams come to life
now,
when they could never be?

She pounded her fists against the windowsill, glad of the stinging pain that brought her back to herself. She needed a reminder
of the costs of being foolishly romantic.

“Mama? Is something wrong?” she heard Caroline say.

Katherine pasted a smile on her lips and turned to see her daughter hurrying down the corridor. Her sash was untied again.
“Of course nothing is wrong.”

“You were frowning so fiercely. I thought you must have seen something outside that displeased you.”

Displeased her? Far from it—unfortunately. “I was just checking on the weather before we set out.”

“Is it foggy again?”

Katherine remembered that fog, the thick cloud of gray mist that enclosed her and Nicolas in the library and made them forget
everything. “No, thankfully. It should be a pleasant evening for Sir Grant’s party.”

She drew Caroline to her and set about retying the errant sash. “Caroline, dearest, how are you enjoying your art lessons?”

“Very much, Mama. Monsieur Courtois is showing me the best way to accurately transcribe images from old, faded parchment,
and we’re studying ancient pigmentation methods,” Caroline said enthusiastically. “He knows so very much. It’s quite fascinating.”

“So you don’t want to give them up after all?”

Caroline laughed. “I was very silly to protest against
them. Drawing is very useful, not like dancing and embroidery. And I like Monsieur Courtois. He loves art so much, and he
is very good at teaching it without shouting, as the nasty old dancing master does.” She paused. “Why? Is something amiss?
Is Monsieur Courtois leaving?”

“No, not if you want him to stay.” As Katherine wanted him to stay, so desperately much it was almost a physical pain. Even
if nothing more could happen, she wanted to see him, to make sure he was well. “I’m glad you enjoy your lessons.”

“I do.” Caroline turned around, smoothing her unruly hair back into its combs. “Mama, is Anna going to marry Sir Grant?”

“I do not know, dearest. That is up to her—and him. I don’t think he has asked her yet. He certainly hasn’t come to me to
ask permission.”

“He will, though. But does she
want
to say yes?”

Katherine sighed. “I don’t know,” she said again. It seemed she didn’t really know anything any longer. Not even herself.