“I have a list,” she said calmly. “I shall begin with Lady Fonthurst and then I shall move on to Viscountess Lisle. After her, I shall go to the Marchioness of Durham. Then, the Duchess of Pembroke. There is also an actress, I believe, Mrs. Westlake. To say nothing of Lady Jane Carlton—”
“Enough,” he bit out.
Where the devil had she gotten so much information about him? When he had readConfessions of a Sinful Earl, some of the accounts had been painfully accurate. But others had been wild flights of fancy. Yet, hearing so many familiar names roll off Lady Calliope’s tongue with such ease was nothing short of alarming.
She was far more of an opponent to him than he had imagined.
Yes, he had underestimated the cunning vixen.
“Is it true that you are also well acquainted with the bawd who owns the Garden of Flora and Fauna?” she asked next, utterly astonishing him by rattling off the name of an exclusive house of ill repute.
A very wicked, very exclusive, very secretive house of ill repute.
Or, at least, so he had thought.
“Where have you come by all this information, my lady?” he asked.
By God, he would suffer anything before he chained himself to another Celeste. Strangely, however, something inside him told him the petite, dark-haired woman before him could not be further from Celeste than the moon from the sun.
“Will you have me pay calls to all of them?” Her composure was impeccable. She showed nary a hint of fear. “Or will you tell me which of the many ladies in youracquaintanceI must meet?”
Sin did not know what came over him then. One moment, he was at a complete impasse with Lady Calliope, and the next, he was slamming his mouth down on hers. He told himself it was to shut her up. To stop her sharp tongue from its endless wagging. To remind her which of them was in control.
But the saddest bit of it was, the moment her lips moved beneath his, he was stunningly, surreally aware of where all the control lay.
In her power.
In her bewitching lips.
He was not kissing her to command her.
Rather, he was kissing her because hewantedto kiss her.
This would not do.
He reared back, ending the kiss before it could deepen. Glaring into her dark eyes, he growled, “I will come for you tomorrow afternoon at three o’clock. Do not be late.”
Her tongue glided over her lips, and it was all he could do to suppress a groan at the sight and not chase it with his. “Tomorrow. That shall do, my lord.”
He nodded, then moved away from her, needing distance between them. “And Lady Calliope? Do not again put yourself at risk by gallivanting all over London in the midst of the night.”
She nodded, and he took the jerky motion as her acquiescence as she rose from her chair, her cheeks blossoming with twin patches of scarlet. “Good evening, Lord Sinclair.”
He watched her flee his study then, cursing himself for a fool.
Chapter Nine
I write these memoirs, dear reader, as a warning to you. Our world is rife with villains. Most of their crimes are never exposed.
~fromConfessions of a Sinful Earl
Callie had toldAunt Fanchette she was going for a drive with Lord Sinclair.
That much had not been a lie.
She had neglected to mention, however, that the earl was taking her to meet with his mistress. Strike that—hisformermistress. Or so he claimed.
“I will have your word that after today, you will not give me further trouble,” Lord Sinclair said as he deftly guided his barouche down Rotten Row.
