Chapter One

It has been said that idleness is the parent of mischief, which is very true; but mischief itself is merely an attempt to escape from the dreary vacuum of idleness. ~ George Borrow

Autumn, 1816 Blackwood Hall, outside London

The ancient hall was bustling with excited guests waiting for the presentation of the new Duke of Exeter. It was to be the bachelor’s grand debut in London Society since rising to the rank of Duke—which, of course compelled everyone with a daughter even close to marriageable age to seek an invitation to the glittering event.

After all, a young, fit, unmarried man was all too quickly becoming a rare commodity in these turbulent war-torn times, but a duke...and a handsome one at that (or so it was rumored—for no member of the ton had actually reported seeing the man), well, he was a rare prize indeed.

Even so, the novelty of the evening had already worn gossamer thin for Lady Siusan Sinclair. She was very likely the only miss in the hall who did not wish be there at all. “I daresay we’ve waited long enough, Priscilla. No man is worth waiting about for four long hours—especially in this heat.”

Her younger sister’s eyes went wide at Siusan’s sacrilegious words. “An unmarried duke is entirely worth the wait!”

Siusan rolled her eyes as she dabbed her moist neck with her handkerchief.

“And do not dare perspire,” Priscilla warned, critically studying the cerulean blue silk dress Siusan wore. “I only lent you the gown upon your solemn oath that you would not ruin it. That includes perspiring.” She snatched up Siusan’s wrist. “Come now, make use of your fan. Mine is keeping me sufficiently cool. A true lady does not perspire. Remember that.”

“Aye, Priscilla, I know, however if we do not leave at once— ”

“I am certain you can manage to refrain from glowing for a few more minutes.” Priscilla narrowed her eyes at Siusan and then rose to her toes to survey the ballroom.” The duke will appear at any moment I have no doubt. I am sure I needn’t remind you of our predicament? His Grace is unmarried and from the country, some dreary old place in Devonshire. I am sure he has never even heard of the Sinclairs, and that fact works in our favor. Our chances of snaring his ring are as good as any other noble miss’s.”

Siusan stood on the tips of her toes as well and glanced about momentarily before returning her heels to the floor, pulling Priscilla down along with her. She moved her mouth close to her younger sister’s ear, for as the daughter of a duke herself, Siusan was nothing if not well trained. Like her brothers and sisters, she just did not always choose to adhere to the rules of propriety in the strictest sense. “Keeping us all waiting for his glorious presence, bah. I daresay, the duke is clearly very rude. Perhaps you are right, Priscilla. He may fit in with the Seven Deadly Sins nicely.”

“Hush. Do not refer to our family so vilely. That others do so does not make it acceptable.” Priscilla glanced around them to be sure Siusan’s assertion was not overheard. Convinced that it was not, she growled into Siusan’s ear. “And besides, my future husband is not rude.”

“Your husband, dear? Did you not just claim that our chance for winning his ring were just as favorable as anyone else’s?”

“Aye, but I meant that my chances are equal. Not yours. Do you not recall that I voiced my claim on the duke the moment we stepped down from the carriage?”

“Good Lord, are you still six years old?” Her sister’s reliance on an old game might have been diverting at another time, but not tonight. “The wretched duke still hasn’t had the courtesy to grace those waiting for him with his esteemed noble presence. And besides which, Priscilla, you cannot claim the duke unless you see him first. That is the primary rule of the game.”

Priscilla suddenly looked very determined. “Then I shall ensure that I do see him first.” She started off through the crowd, leaving Siusan surrying to catch up with her. Within a minute, Priscilla had climbed a step and positioned herself on the far edge of the musicians’ dais.

“Priscilla, you are being a great goose. Come down. Please, let us find our brothers and away.”

Priscilla’s gaze swept the ballroom as she replied. “I have an elevated view of the ballroom from here, and I will signal you posthaste the moment the duke appears.” She turned her eyes back upon Siusan. “That way you will know he has arrived...and that I saw him first.”

Her sister was being ridiculous. Siusan swiped her cutwork fan before her face, hoping to coax the humid air into cooling her face. On another night, the prospect of meeting a strikingly handsome unmarried duke might have been sufficient incentive for Siusan to cram into a rented coach with her brothers and sister and ride eight dusty miles outside of Town.

But not tonight...of all painful nights.

All she wanted tonight was to be alone with her memories.But solitude wasn’t a luxury she could afford. She and her wayward siblings, widely known within Society as the Seven Deadly Sins, had only accepted tonight’s invitation for one simple reason--they were willing to do anything to earn back their father’s approval. Not because they were truly ashamed of their wild and wicked ways, for indeed they were not.

Their motivation did not run quite so clear and deep. It was only because the money their father, the Duke of Sinclair, provided them was just enough to meet their most basic of needs and those funds were quickly dwindling. Their father’s man of affairs had made it startlingly clear that no further pouches of coin were to make their way into the Sinclair brothers’ and sisters’ hands until they changed their feral ways and earned the respect the Sinclair name deserved. They all knew that time was fast running out.

And, well, there was an unmarried duke to be had. What quicker way for her or her sister to restore respectability than to marry a duke?

She glanced up at Priscilla who was earnestly sweeping the dance floor with her gaze.

Well, her sister could have him. Tonight, Siusan just didn’t care—about dukes, money, even her father’s respect. With a sniff, Siusan raised her chin and surreptitiously dabbed a lace handkerchief to an errant tear budding in her eye.

Tonight marked one year. A full heart-breaking year without Simon. And despite her brother Grant’s good intentions, no amount of whisky en route to the gala could lessen the aching heaviness in her heart this night. The spirits only made her head spin.

Gads, she wanted nothing more than to leave this place and be alone. The moist heat emanating from the sweating hordes of ladies in pale silk gowns and gentlemen in dark coats thickened the air, adding to her irritation.

It was hard enough for Siusan to breathe in her over-tight corset, but the stays were a necessary evil to fit into Pricilla’s cerulean gown. Simon had always favored her in blue, and this gown in particular.

The backs of her eyes began to sting anew. Lud, the crush of perspiring bodies was unbearable! What benefit would the beautiful silk gown be to either of the Sinclair sisters if it became sodden with perspiration and ruined?

Nay, she had to remove herself from the crowd, even for just a few moments. And maybe in that time, she would be able to rein in her grief, and mask herself with the composure expected of a Sinclair.

She made her way through the ballroom into a grand entry hall. The vaulted ceilings were higher there, but three small windows were no match for the heat of hundreds below.

Och, where was the door? Like the other Sinclairs, Siusan was extraordinarily tall, and by standing on her toes, she just managed to see over the shifting sea of guests to a darkened passage just ahead to her left. She made for it, but the crush of humanity was too great. She could not move through the crowd. And then she saw him. A tall officer with gleaming red hair ..and God above, could she be mistaken, or was he wearing the uniform of the Royal Scots Greys? It was eerie how much he resembled Simon.

Her heart thrummed in her chest. Simon? Of course, it could not be...and yet—she had to get closer. She tried to follow him through the crowd. Aye, his tunic was scarlet with a gold and blue striped sash around the waist. Simon’s regimental dress uniform. The one he’d been wearing when he asked her father for her hand.

Gritting her teeth, she focused on the shifting sea of people.

“Sir. I say, sir!” she called out to him. A quartet of people parted to let Siusan through. “Please, wait for me. I see you.” She pushed forward, squeezing her way down the hall. “Please do excuse me. He is just there. Thank you. Thank you ever so much.” She edged her hip sideways through the next gathering, but she was losing sight of him. She raised her hand into the air. “Please wait. Just another moment.”

But after a minute, he had disappeared. She had crossed the entire grand hall, but he was gone. Siusan started back, still scanning the crowd for any glimpse of the officer. Of course it was not Simon, but rather her mind playing tricks on her eyes, filling in Simon’s features for those she hadn’t seen clearly enough. Hers eyes were stinging. Logically, she knew this, but still she kept searching. She had to fully see his face to tamp out this foolish fantasy that somehow Simon was here and had not died from his wounds.

Stop this folly, Siusan! Simon died, she reminded herself. You saw him die.

She spun around, unable to give up her search. Mayhap he knew her Simon, could tell more about what happened at Waterloo. After Simon returned from the battle, his mind was oft dull with laudanum. The words he managed to speak were sharp and cruel, likely coaxed between his lips from pain.

Suddenly, she spied a hallway she hadn’t noticed before. Perhaps he went down the passage. It was possible.

The temperature of the dimly lit passage was somewhat cooler, but her head was whirling from the whisky and the heat of her rush through grand hall. What she truly required was an open window and some time alone to calm herself. To rid this all too vivid memory of Simon from her head.

She hurried to the first door. After a wary glance behind her to be certain she had not been observed leaving the gala, she pressed down on the latch and peered inside. A wand of moonlight reached between the drawn curtains, allowing just enough light for Siusan to discern an snug library. She slipped inside and pressed the door closed behind her.

She could smell the oiled books on the shelves lining the walls though she could not see them. But for the thin swathe of moonlight coming through a break in the curtains, the room was utterly black.

Siusan started for the window but within her first three steps her knee slammed into something low and hard—a table? She bit into her lower lip to stifle a whimper. Her knee throbbed.

Reaching out, she felt for a place to sit down, her hand finally finding a cushioned sofa. Limping around its arm, she sat down and hoisted her skirt up and pulled the ribbon at her thigh then drew down her stocking to rub her barked knee. It wasn’t bleeding, which was a good thing, since this was her last pair of silk stockings and she hadn’t the money to buy another if they were ruined.

Just then, she heard the door open. Her breath seized in her lungs.

Moonlight just barely touched the angular face of a large man. He was hardly two strides away.

Her heart pounded. How respectable would it appear for her to be found in a room meant for family, not guests? Thankfully, the library was cloaked in night. If she didn’t move...barely breathed the man mightn’t even know she was in the library with him.

But then, his eyes shifted to her and she saw a smile roll across his lips. She followed his gaze and saw that the lone shaft of moonlight was draped across her bare thigh.

“There you are. I couldn’t recall if you said the ante-parlor or the library,” he whispered, striding fast toward her. “Suppose I guessed right, eh?”

Siusan sat stunned, her mind all a jumble about what to do.

“I apologize for leaving you to wait. Went out for a long ride. Had to. I cannot endure the crowds and all of this meaningless fuss.” He came and stood before her, his feet firmly positioned either side of hers. His hand shot out and one finger slid alongside her jaw, easing her head back against the sofa cushion.

Siusan’s heart thudded in her chest. Panicked, she opened her mouth to tell him that she was not who he thought her to be, when suddenly his lips were moving over hers. She shivered as she felt his tongue ease into her mouth and began stroking the insides of her cheeks, twirling around her tongue. The peaty notes of brandy lingered on her tongue, and as she focused on the taste of his mouth, she didn’t at first feel his other hand move between her legs and begin to caress her thigh.

When she did, Siusan clamped her legs together. He lifted his mouth a scant breath from hers and exhaled a short laugh. “Come now, it is not as if it is the first time.” He nudged her knees open just a bit, then touched her bare thigh again, softly moving his fingers higher between her legs. Touching her just there. “And I know you like this quite a lot.”

God, she did. A low moan slipped from her lips. But how—Siusan’s eyes went wide—how, pray, could he possibly know this? Her mind spun like a leaf caught in a whirlwind. No one else knew. Except Simon, of course—but he’s—.

Suddenly he was lifting her, and then her back brushed the seat of the long sofa. He stood beside her as he unbuttoned his waistcoat, dropping it to the floor. Within an instant, he’d unwound his neckcloth and pulled his lawn shirt over his head.

She peered up at him. His face was obscured by darkness but the shaft of moonlight cut across his muscled chest, scored his abdomen and defined the hardness beneath his breeches.

Lord above. He was so very, very male. To her own embarrassment, moist heat began to collect between her thighs.

What was she doing? Aye, she was no longer a maid, but no one knew this. And it had only been Simon, her betrothed, the man she would have married.

Until Waterloo left him torn in shreds.

He hadn’t been expected to survive the night, let alone his transport home. But somehow he did, if only to writhe in agony for weeks at her side, muttering the most hurtful things, untruths she knew he said to drive her from his side. To spare her from seeing him finally succumb. One year ago...tonight.

He moved from the light, and she felt him part her knees. The cushion beneath her gave and she felt him move between her legs.

She couldn’t see him now, and she knew he couldn’t see her face as he leaned over her and began kissing her again. She closed her eyes and remembered Simon. How she missed him. How she missed the feel of him. Tears welled in her eyes. She felt part of herself die alongside him that night, one year ago.

But in this man’s arms something miraculous was happening. She could scarce believe it, but there was no denying...she was beginning to feel again. As if...as if his tenderness, his kisses pressing down on her lips, her neck...my God, it was as though he was raising her from the dead.

And she did not want him to stop.

Aye, it was wicked, but her body and her mind needed this confirmation of life.

Her eyes snapped open. She could let herself have this. Reclaim her life.

Just one night.

No one would know. Even he thought her to be someone else.

Just one night of sin. That was all.

And in that moment, her decision was made. She raised a hand and ran it through his thick hair, holding him to her as she responded to his passionate kiss while she stroked his muscled chest.

“Mmm,” he moaned, stealing one last kiss. He leaned back slightly and ran his fingertips over her breasts, making her arch into his touch. He moved lower and eased his hands over her belly, then beneath the rumpled skirts about her hips. He pushed up her silk chemise and petticoat. His mouth was searing as he kissed the inside of her thighs easing her legs wider, opening her sex to him.

Siusan closed her eyes. Oh, God, this is madness. But she wasn’t going to stop him now. His touches and kisses had wound her body so achingly tight. He made her feel so alive again, the way she had when she was with Simon.

Aye, Simon. She would think of Simon.

His mouth centered on the heat between her thighs. He sucked on her core, flicking her, swirling his tongue with all knowing surety.

Simon. Simon. She struggled to hold an image of him in her mind. Only, Simon had never done this—so wicked a thing. Oh, God. Oh, God.

A warm shiver shook her. Simon never made her feel this way. Ever.

She trembled as his fingers spread her folds then eased inside of her, curling up slightly as he circled her womanhood with his masterful tongue. She moaned and twisted as heat spiraled tighter and tighter inside of her.

Her legs began to quiver uncontrollably. An urgency grew within her, one that she knew only a man could quell.

With both hands, she grasped his head and turned it up toward hers. When she felt him face her, she leaned down and caught his arms, dragging him back up to her.

In the darkness, she heard him laugh softly, and he moved and rose to kneel between her legs. She extended her arm until her hand felt his breeches stretched tight over his erection. Then both of her hands felt his trousers, searching and finally finding the buttons to his front fall. Against the strain of fabric, she fumbled to release the buttons.

His hands came down over hers, then moved them aside to the fall himself. At once the front fall released and she felt the heavy weight of his cock bounce down against her before rising again.

She grasped its long thickness and skimmed her fingertips up its shaft to its plump head the way Simon had once tutored her, hardening him to stone. In the wedge of moonlight, she saw a droplet pearl at his tip. She spread it over its crown, making it slick...for her.

The sound of the crowd in the ball room swelled, and she felt his body twist. He was looking toward the door.

Nay, we’ve not gone this far only to stop now. Siusan pumped her hand once more, then boldly set his plum-shaped tip against the entrance to her wetness.

He groaned aloud and arched his body over hers, poised to take her.

Her anticipation was so great, she could scarcely catch her breath, but when the musk scent of him filled her senses, her yearning grew ever more intense.

She thrilled at the sensation of his hot muscled body between her thighs. She needed to feel him inside her. Needed to feed a hunger like no other she’d felt.

He eased his hardness into her moist folds, brushing past that place he’d made so sensitive with his skilled tongue. She shivered and brought her legs up and nearly around him.

In a low voice, he swore beneath his breath and then all at once, he grasped her wrists and held them on either side of her head as he thrust into her sheath. She gasped as her body stretched to him. Unbidden, her muscles gripped him and she arched up, driving him deeper inside.

He slammed harder into her, filling her, almost to the point that she could not bear it. His fully aroused penis stroking her so forcefully created a mutiny of sensation, pushing her to the edge of sanity.

A whimper of carnal pleasure slipped from her mouth, drawing his attention. He kissed her again, hard at first, then slower and more gently, all the while pressing into her again and again, making her even wetter.

She gasped against his mouth, then again and again. He thrust into her harder and faster, until her muscles spasmed with an intensity she’d never known, overwhelming every inch of her with pulsing ecstasy.

With his last stroke, he swore again and tried to pull back, but her legs held him in place. Too long. His body suddenly arched and jerked into hers until his weight collapsed atop her. A sheen of perspiration broke over his back.

Panting, he rested upon her. “I’m sorry. I tried—. Christ, I’ve always been able to stop. Always.” He pushed up finally and came to his feet, busying himself with dressing.

Siusan slid to the corner of the sofa, her fingers scrabbling for the ribbon to her stocking. In the black of the room she couldn’t find it anywhere. So, instead, she rolled the top of her stocking to hold it in place, then, with a yank, she returned her skirts to her ankles. She sat still, keeping to the darkness, until she could make her escape.

He bent to retrieve what Siusan guessed to be his waistcoat. This was her moment. As quietly as possible she rose from the sofa, slipped around behind it and started for the door.

“Wait.” His hand curled around her wrist. “I would be remiss if I allowed you to forget this.” There was a clink of coins as he pressed a small leather bag into her palm.

She couldn’t help herself. Siusan turned, her face catching the moonlight momentarily as she looked down at the bag, torn between her family’s dire need of the money and feeling like she would have sold herself if she took it.

He released her wrist and his hand dropped to his side. “You are not...oh God, you are not Clarissa.”

“Nay, I am not.” Blast, I should not have said anything! Abruptly, she dropped the bag on the floor, and when he instinctively bent to retrieve it, she opened the door and ran down the passage, chancing a hunted glance over her shoulder.

“Oof!” She’d slammed into a stocky auburn-haired man rounding the corner into passage just as she turned. She glanced back again as she twisted, and as she slid around him, she saw the man look down the passage toward the library.

Her secret lover stepped from the library at that very moment. Siusan lunged for the crowd. Suddenly, the masses surged forward and she was swallowed up into the swell.

She heard the bang of the liveried footman’s staff on the floor behind her. “All hail, His Grace, The Duke of Exeter!”

Siusan pushed against the current of guests rushing forward to see the duke, just catching notice of her sister amongst there number.

“Priscilla!” She lunged forward and caught her sister’s arm.

Startled, Priscilla turned to her. “There you are, Su! We’ve been looking everywhere for you. But here you are and just in time too. The Duke of Exeter has just been announced!”

“I am aware, but we have to find our brothers and leave at once.” She tugged on Priscilla’s arm.

“I daresay, I am not going anywhere.” She furrowed her brow, annoyed.

Siusan grabbed her sister’s shoulders. “Listen to me. We must leave.”

A young woman bumped into Priscilla while blindly racing forward to join the crowd. This only raised her sister’s ire. “I haven’t yet met the duke.”

“But Priscilla, I have, and if we do not quit this gala, the duke may recognize me and—oh God—Da will never forgive me for what I have done. Do you understand? He will toss me to the street before the week is out.”

Priscilla’s eyes rounded. “Gads, Su, what have you done now?”

Heat washed into her cheeks. “I-I will admit all to you later. I swear. Presently though, I need for you to locate our brothers. We must away. I will meet you in the carriage.” She pinned Priscilla with her gaze, hoping to impart the urgency of her words.

Priscilla nodded and then plunged into the crowd.

Siusan hurriedly descended the staircase. Budding tears stung her eyes as the liveried footman opened the doors, releasing her into the night. She could scarcely catch her breath.

She was such a fool. A damnable weak fool.

One night of sin...might well have cost her future.