Lord of Sin. Susan Krinard
prince has been known to favor ladies whom Society would ordinarily ignore. Mrs. Tissier is one such lady. As such, she enjoys a certain caché.”
“Have you had her, Donnington? Is that why you consider her such a prize?” Felix snorted. “Of course you have.You’ve had all of them at one time or another.”
The implied insult missed its mark. “You aren’t likely to find a married woman in our set who hasn’t taken at least one lover,” Sinjin said. “If a matron has borne the necessary offspring, she can always pass an additional child off as her husband’s. His own infidelity makes it unlikely that he would raise an objection even if he suspected the truth.”
“I know all that, Sinjin, but—”
“Of course your prospect need not be married at all. Mature widows are generally intelligent enough to recognize the danger of having their amours confirmed by an unexpected birth.”
“I know how to take precautions,” Felix said with a flash of uncharacteristic irritation.
“Precautions or no, there is always a risk. You must convince the lady that you have such matters under control, and then keep your word.”
“Which you always manage to do.”
“I have produced no children, to my knowledge,” Sinjin said mildly. “I avoid naive young widows just as I do girls who have yet to take their marriage vows. I urge you to follow my example.”
“I’m not so certain I belong in your dashed club.”
Sinjin yawned. “That is entirely up to you. But if you make a mistake and find yourself forced to marry the chit, don’t come running to me.”
Frowning, Melbyrne gave Mrs. Tissier a second look. “If you wouldn’t mind, Donnington, I’d like to do my hunting in peace.”
“As you wish.” Certain that he’d made his point, Sinjin walked out of the Academy and breathed in London’s not-so-fresh air. At least here, away from the crowd, he was able to think.
He’d told Melbyrne that a challenge was always most satisfying, and he’d faced more than a few himself. But there was one woman in the world he wouldn’t pursue for all the tea in China. Except to make her explain…confess…
He didn’t know what he wanted of her. He only knew that he couldn’t let her go until he finally understood who and what she was. Until she knew what it was like to be the one truly without power.
DEBORAH CLUTCHED at Nuala’s hand.
“Did you see him?”
Nuala looked away from the Frith. The prickle of awareness she’d felt earlier returned with a vengeance.
“See whom?” she asked a little too sharply.
“That young man who was staring at us.”
Nuala turned fully in the direction Lady Orwell was looking, her heart beating much too fast. “I don’t see any young man,” she said. “Can you point him out?”
Deborah stood up on her toes. “He isn’t there now.” She met Nuala’s gaze, her own filled with surprising disappointment. “He was…quite handsome, with fair hair and blue eyes.”
The sharp ache in Nuala’s chest eased. Not him. She had heard that he was recently returned to London from India. She knew their meeting was inevitable, but she was not ready to face the Earl of Donnington.
She forced her thoughts back to Deborah’s young man. Lady Orwell’s description might indicate any number of gentlemen in Society, and both she and Nuala were as yet unfamiliar with many of them. But Deborah’s tone was most interesting, most interesting indeed. It was almost as if she were amazed by the fact that she might be the object of a handsome young man’s attention.
“He must have noticed you,” Nuala said, relieved that her own feelings of being watched had proven unfounded. “Who would not?”
“Oh, no. It must have been you he was looking at.”
“You are by far the greater beauty, and I am past my prime.”
“But surely he noticed that I am in mourning.”
“Half-mourning. And even that will not prevent a man’s admiration.”
Deborah flushed. “Perhaps I ought not come out so often.”
“It is good for you, Deborah. Grief does not make the world go away, as much as you might wish it.”
“I wish that I might crawl into a black pit and never come out again.”
“No, you don’t.” Nuala took Deborah’s arm and linked it through hers. “You are not alone now. You will always be with one of us, wherever you go.”
“I feel safest with you.”
After much soul-searching, Nuala had taken on the role of a kind of mentor to Deborah. There was, of course, some risk; though Nuala’s magic was gone, she might conceivably live for many more years before she was granted the release of death.
It is only for Deborah’s sake, she reminded herself. Soon enough she’ll have no further need of me.
“I suggest that we continue to enjoy the paintings,” she said. “The others are well ahead of us.”
“Oh, yes. We should catch them up.”
Deborah hurried toward the beacon of Tameri’s gold collar. The Widows were laughing about something or other, drawing a few mildly disapproving stares. After all, truly well-bred women merely tittered, if they laughed at all. But in spite of her severe suit and upright bearing, Frances cared nothing for the opinion of Society. Nor did Clara, who had joined in her hilarity. Maggie was simply oblivious to the judgment of others. Their enjoyment of their joke even affected Deborah, who all but grinned in delight.
Yes, there was hope for the girl yet.
Clara smiled at Nuala. “Well,” she said, “we wondered where you had gone.”
“Deborah and I were merely watching the crowd.”
“Fascinating, isn’t it? The study of human nature is a most vital subject that has long been neglected.”
“Perhaps you ought to take up the study yourself, Clara.”
“Not I. I’m content with my microscope and telescope.”
Tools she would not have been permitted to use when Nuala had been a girl. In those days, mortal men had done far worse than scoff at women who held such lofty interests. Any female who stepped out of her proper place of humility and obedience, let alone show skill in pursuits that might conceivably cross the boundaries set by the Almighty…
“Are you ill, Nuala?”
“I’m quite well,” Nuala said. “Have you seen the new florals in the next room?”
Lillian’s round blue eyes lit up. “No, I have not. Shall we visit them?”
Allowing herself to be guided into the adjoining room, Nuala quieted her memories. Memories she had once been able to set aside so easily. Why were they returning now with such potency, when she least desired them? Was this to be yet another punishment?
She glanced at Lillian’s laughing eyes and reminded herself again that she had not been completely abandoned. There might yet be answers. And perhaps, when she finally met Sinjin again, she could lay at least one of her ghosts to rest once and for all.
CHAPTER TWO
THE HYDE PARK PARADE was in full swing. Nuala, Deborah and Victoria, the Marchioness of Oxenham, sat comfortably in Lady Oxenham’s sparkling landau, which—in spite of its team of handsome grays—moved no faster than a walking pace and frequently came to a complete stop amid the crush of carriages and horsemen and women.