Duchess of Sin by Laurel McKee Page A

on old embers.”
    “You’re quite right, of course. But forgive and forget is hardly the Irish way, is it, my dear? The enmity between those two
     goes beyond any lawsuit or pretty woman. You do not have to be their pawn, though.
You
can use
them
to your own advantage.”
    “What do you mean?” Anna asked, now thoroughly confused. “Short of taking a riding crop to both of them, I can’t imagine I
     could ever control them. And I can’t see what
advantage
I could find in them, either.”
    Jane toyed idly with the ribbons of her dress, smiling mysteriously. “Do you not? Well, I must leave you to think about it
     then. I have to go home and change for that card party. I suppose we won’t be seeing you there?”
    Anna shook her head. She was only half-listening; her mind still reeled with all this new, fascinating information. “No, but
     I am sure I can persuade Mama to let me attend the Fitzwalters’ ball tomorrow.”
    “Oh, I so much hope you can. Since I missed the excitement at the park today, I must pray for another show.”
    “I doubt that will happen. Adair never goes about in Society, does he?”
    “Somehow I have the feeling his reclusive habits are about to change.” Jane rose to her feet and kissed Anna’s cheek again
     before she smoothed on her gloves. “I am so happy you’re unhurt, Anna. You will think of all I’ve said?”
    “Of course, Jane. Good-bye until tomorrow.”
    After her friend departed, Anna wandered over to the window to stare down at the street. Beyond the ivy-covered portico, Henrietta
     Street was quiet in the gathering darkness. No one was yet abroad in the darkened streets. They were all preparing for parties
     or the theater, or perhaps for more daring fare. Perhaps some of them were going to the Olympian Club.
    Was Adair there now? She closed her eyes and pictured him tying on a mask, moving through the empty rooms that would soon
     fill up with laughter and lust, the despair of money lost and the excitement of flirtatious glances and new affairs.
    How she wished she were there, too. Despite her tiredness and the ache of her bruises, that old plague of restlessness was
     even stronger tonight. It was like an imp of mischief deep inside of her, urging her on to new trouble.
    She opened her eyes and stared out blindly at the gathering twilight. If she did want trouble, she need look no further than
     Adair. He was danger come to dark, thrilling life, full of mystery and secret—or not so secret—enmities. He was intriguing;
     she could not deny it. But it seemed that somewhere in her heart, hidden away, so tiny she could hardly see it, was a kernel
     of her mother’s prudence.
    She would not put on her own mask and sneak out tonight, no matter how much she wanted to. She had much to consider. Jane
     had said there was an “advantage” to be had in the feud between Adair and Grant Dunmore. Anna had no idea what that meant.
    But she was certainly going to find out.



Chapter Seven
    K atherine paused in front of the mirror in the corridor before she went to attend to her duty in the library. The fading light
     from the windows fell over her disordered hair and pale face, and she feared it revealed the strain of the day. Once, she
     could recover from any crisis full of energy and eager to take on the many tasks of a lady with a large estate. Being the
     chatelaine of Killinan Castle and the mother of her lively girls had been her whole life, and she would do anything for her
     family and home. She still would.
    But how tired she felt! How aged. She knew she was not so old, only in her forties, and she looked younger. Like most girls
     from good Anglo-Irish families, she married young and had her children quickly. Six of them, though only three lived. But
     she
felt
as if she was a hundred years old. Seeing Anna crumpled on the ground was terrifying. It brought back so vividly those days
     when she could do nothing to protect her children, when she had come so close to