Duchess of Sin
LAUREL M
C
KEE
NEW YORK BOSTON
drawing her tight against him just
as she had wanted. “For once in your life,
just hush.”
His mouth came down on hers. He was not harsh, but he
was
insistent, his lips opening over hers, his tongue seeking entrance. She opened for him, letting him in, meeting him eagerly.
Oh, yes,
this
was what she longed for. That sensation of every rational thought flying out of her, of falling down into pure, hot need.
His hand slid down her back as their kiss deepened, and his coat fell away from her shoulders. The cold air washed over her,
but she only felt it for an instant before it was replaced with his heat. He wanted
her
. Not the image of her, the earl’s fine, pretty daughter, but
her
.
“I don’t want to need you,” he said fiercely.
“I don’t want to need you, either,” she whispered. Her head fell back against the wall. She closed her eyes tightly, reveling
in the glorious pleasure of his touch. “But I fear I do. Oh curse it, Conlan, if you don’t touch me I’ll scream.”
“4 Stars! McKee sets the stage for a romantic adventure that captures the spirit of Ireland and a pair of star-crossed lovers
to perfection.”—RT Book Reviews on Countess of Scandal
To Mrs. Harold, my high school AP History teacher, and all the wonderful teachers I had over the years who encouraged me in
my writing. Teachers rock!
UTHOR’S
N
OTE
I
was so excited to revisit the Blacknall sisters in
Duchess of Sin
and discover exactly what happened to Anna. I never had any sisters of my own, though I always wanted one, and this family
is my way of living out that fantasy. It makes it even more fun that they live in my very favorite place on earth, Ireland,
in a time of great excitement and change. And their story isn’t quite finished! We get to see Caroline in book three,
Lady of Seduction
.
Here’s some of the history behind the story: The Act of Union was actually two acts, the first passed as an Act of the Parliament
of Great Britain on July 2, 1800, and the second an Act of the Parliament of Ireland on August 1, 1800. The two acts united
the Kingdom of Great Britain and the Kingdom of Ireland to create the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland, which came
into effect on January 1, 1801. In the Republic of Ireland, the first Act was not repealed until the passing of the Republic’s
Statute Law Revision Act in 1983.
Before these Acts, Ireland had been in personal union with England since 1541 when the Irish Parliament passed the Crown of
Ireland Act proclaiming Henry VIII as King of Ireland. England and Scotland were united into a single kingdom in 1603.
The Parliament in Dublin had gained a measure of independence by the Constitution of 1782, and many of its members guarded
this hard-won freedom fiercely (the most notable being Henry Grattan, the hero of the anti-Unionists and a minor character
in this story). They rejected a motion for Union in 1790 by 109 votes versus 104. Not that the Irish Parliament was open to
all Irishmen—only Anglicans of a certain class could become Members of Parliament.
By the late 1790s, with the French Revolution of 1789 and the Irish Rebellion of 1798 (the background of the first Daughters
of Erin book,
Countess of Scandal
), Britain was scared and determined to make those wild Irish settle down. The final passage of the Act in the Irish Parliament
was achieved in part by bribery, such as awarding peerages, estates, and money to get votes. The measure passed 158 to 115.
A good source to learn more about the politics of the time is Alan J. Ward’s
The Irish Constitutional Tradition: Responsible Government and Modern Ireland, 1782–1992
and W. J. McCormack’s
The Pamphlet Debate on the Union of Great Britain and Ireland.
(Grattan’s speech in Parliament, which I had Anna witness, can be found here in its entirety.) You can visit my website,
http://laurelmckee.net
, for more sources and historical info, as well as pictures of the sites seen in these books.
And as for the Children of Lir, a statue of them can
be seen in the Garden of Remembrance at Parnell Square in Dublin. It is said to symbolize the rebirth of the Irish nation
following 900 years of struggle for independence, just as the swans were reborn after 900 years. It’s a very moving sight,
and one I’m grateful to have seen!
Dublin, December 1799
S
he really should not be doing this. It was a terrible, imprudent idea.
But that had never stopped her before.
Lady Anna Blacknall drew the hood of her black cloak closer over her pale gold hair, which would shimmer like a beacon in
the night and attract unwanted attention. She pressed her back tighter to the stone wall, peering out at the world through
the eyeholes of her satin mask. Her endeavor to become invisible seemed to be working as everyone hurried past her without
even a glance.
But where was Jane? If she turned coward and refused to appear, Anna couldn’t get into the Olympian Club on her own. Jane
was the one who was a member, and the club had a strictly enforced “guests of members only” policy. It wasn’t likely Jane
would abandon her, though. Jane, the widowed but still young Lady Cannondale, was the most daring woman in Dublin, always
up for a lark
or a dare. She was also Anna’s new bosom bow—much to her mother’s chagrin. Katherine Blacknall, Lady Killinan, feared Lady
Cannondale would land Anna in scandal and ruin.
It was fortunate Katherine didn’t realize that most of their pranks were Anna’s idea, just like the one tonight.
Anna pressed her hands tightly to her stomach where a nervous excitement fluttered like a hundred demented butterflies. This
seemed like such a fine idea when she first heard about the exclusive, secretive, scandalous Olympian Club and found out Jane
was a member. Tonight the club was holding a masked ball, the rare opportunity for non-members to see what went on inside
its hidden environs. Surely something so secretive must be worth exploring.
Strangely, though, Jane had tried to put her off, to laugh away the invitation to the ball. “It is sure to be quite dull,”
she insisted, taking the engraved card from Anna’s hand after she found it hidden in Jane’s sitting room. “The club has such
a reputation only because it restricts its membership. There’s just cards and a little dancing, like everywhere else in Dublin.”
Anna snatched the invitation right back. “How can a masked ball at a secret club possibly be dull? I’ve been so bored of late.
Surely this is just the excitement I need!”
Jane had laughed. “You have been to parties every night this month. How can you be bored?”
“All anyone talks about are the Union debates in Parliament,” Anna said. Those endless quarrels for and against Ireland’s
Union with England, rumors of who had been bribed with titles and money to switch sides, and who had
come to fisticuffs over the matter in St. Stephen’s Green. She was so vastly tired of it, tired of everything.
It did not distract her from memories of the Uprising, either—from the old, terrible nightmares of blood and death in battle.
Only dancing and wine and noise could do that, for a few hours, anyway.
She had finally persuaded Jane to take her to the Olympian Club’s masked ball. Anna crept out of her house at the appointed
hour, in disguise, to wait on this street corner. But where was Jane?
She tapped her foot under the hem of her gown, a borrowed frock of Jane’s made of garnet-red satin embroidered with jet beads
and trimmed with black lace. Her own gowns were all the insipid whites and pastels of a debutante, but this gown was much
better. The beads clicked and sang at the movement, as if they, too, longed to dance, to drown in the sweet forgetfulness
of music and motion. But if Jane did not hurry, they would have to leave the ball before it even started! Anna had to be home
before dawn if she didn’t want to get caught.
At last, Jane’s carriage came rattling around the corner. The door opened, and Anna rushed inside, barely falling onto the
velvet seat before they went flying off again. Her nervous butterflies beat their wings faster as they careened through the
night, and Anna laughed at the rush of excitement.
“I thought you changed your mind,” she said, straightening her skirt.
“Of course not, A.,” Jane answered, tying on her own mask around her piled-up auburn hair. “I promised you an adventure tonight.
Though I do fear you may be disappointed once you see how dull the club really is.”
“I’m sure it can’t be as dull as another ball at Dublin Castle,” Anna said with a shudder. “Terrible music, endless minuets
with stuffy lordlings. And Mama watching to see if I will marry one of them and cease my wild ways at last.”
Jane laughed. “You
ought
to let her marry you off to one of them.”
“Jane! Never. Just the thought of one of them touching me—that way. No.”
“It only lasts a moment or two, A., I promise. And then you have freedom you can’t even imagine now. My Harry was a terrible
old goat, but now I have his money
and
my Gianni, who is quite luscious.” Jane sighed happily. “It is a marvelous life, truly.”
“But you are Harry’s widow, Jane. You no longer have to endure his—attentions.” Anna stared out the window at the city streets
flashing by, a blur of gray-white marble, austere columns and black-painted doors. She thought of old Lord Cannondale before
he popped off last spring, his yellow-tinged eyes that watched Jane so greedily, his spotted, twisted hands. And she thought
of someone else, too, that crazed soldier who had grabbed her in the midst of battle… “Not even for freedom could I endure
sharing my bed with someone like that.”
