Read Online The Sins of Viscount Sutherland by Samantha James - Free Book Online
Authors: Samantha James
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moment. “Wonderful to see you again, Mrs. Westfield.”
Claire inclined her head. “And may I say the same, Your Grace?”
“I’m so glad you will attend my house party. I think you’ll enjoy it. My estate is lovely this time of year.”
They chatted. In time, her gaze again fastened on Gray. Across the floor, he greeted first one guest and then another. On his arm was a dark-haired woman with sultry eyes. She possessed a ripe, earthy beauty, full lips, voluptuous curves. She laughed up at him and he glanced down at her. She stepped up on tiptoe, so close her lips touched his cheek.
A strange sensation gripped Claire’s heart. If she didn’t know better, she would have called it jealousy.
Ridiculous, of course.
She remained where she was, just outside the entrance to the dining room. “Ah,” said Clive. “I see you’ve spotted Lady Hastings. She, too, is a widow, like you. Her mother is a dear friend of Lady Charlotte.”
“I’ve yet to make her acquaintance,” said Claire. In fact, she didn’t want to meet the woman; she disliked her on sight. Her smile was too wide, her jewels too bright.
And her gown too revealing. Oh, yes, far too revealing. Claire suspected that given his height, Gray would have no trouble seeing far more of her breasts than what was exposed. Not only that, she suspected the woman wore not a stitch beneath. The ring of her nipples stood dark and taut.
The gong sounded for dinner, and Clive inclined his head and gave a little bow. “Do me the honor of escorting me in,” he said to her.
Claire took his arm. She could see how she might easily find his lazily wicked manner and devil-may-care good looks irresistible. No doubt he was just as she’d thought. A rogue. A bounder.
When everyone was seated, Gray’s mother rose to tiny, slippered feet and tapped her fork on a crystal glass. “Hear, hear, everyone!” she called, gathering everyone’s attention. “Good evening and welcome to my son’s birthday celebration. We will not talk about age—certainly not I!—but I hope you will join me in wishing my son the heartiest of birthday wishes.”
Beside Claire, Clive rose and offered another toast. It ended with several more toasts, then everyone joined together in conveying birthday wishes.
The beauty beside Gray framed his face between her hands and kissed him full upon the lips. In the next half breath, their heads were nestled together intimately.
Claire deliberately looked away and reached for her wine glass, praying fervently that the meal would end soon. She didn’t notice the disapproving tightness on Charlotte Sutherland’s lips.
When the meal was over, she saw the duke engaged in conversation with an acquaintance in the adjoining room, where the furniture had been pushed aside for dancing. Some of the faces were familiar. Claire nodded and smiled. She was growing more comfortable in this world. She didn’t particularly care for it, however. She would rather have been home at Wildewood, caring for her garden. Caring for the people on the estate.
But there was nothing left for her there either. Not anymore.
She was gripped by a stark, sudden emptiness. Her heart knotted. Oliver had written home occasionally; he had clearly reveled in this world of parties and balls.
And the darker world that lurked beneath the facade of manners and morals.
Bitterness seeped through her. If only he had been stronger. If only he had reached out to his family. Instead he had succumbed—and lost his life in the bargain.
Claire moved about, restless. In time she made her way outside and into the garden.
She didn’t notice that she was followed.
She seated herself on a carved stone bench. Music, laughter, and bits of conversation drifted to her ears. The darkness was oddly soothing. She turned her head, to discover she wasn’t alone.
“My word, sir, you gave me a start!”
A man dressed in evening clothes stood before her. Claire guessed he was younger than Gray. It had
Claire inclined her head. “And may I say the same, Your Grace?”
“I’m so glad you will attend my house party. I think you’ll enjoy it. My estate is lovely this time of year.”
They chatted. In time, her gaze again fastened on Gray. Across the floor, he greeted first one guest and then another. On his arm was a dark-haired woman with sultry eyes. She possessed a ripe, earthy beauty, full lips, voluptuous curves. She laughed up at him and he glanced down at her. She stepped up on tiptoe, so close her lips touched his cheek.
A strange sensation gripped Claire’s heart. If she didn’t know better, she would have called it jealousy.
Ridiculous, of course.
She remained where she was, just outside the entrance to the dining room. “Ah,” said Clive. “I see you’ve spotted Lady Hastings. She, too, is a widow, like you. Her mother is a dear friend of Lady Charlotte.”
“I’ve yet to make her acquaintance,” said Claire. In fact, she didn’t want to meet the woman; she disliked her on sight. Her smile was too wide, her jewels too bright.
And her gown too revealing. Oh, yes, far too revealing. Claire suspected that given his height, Gray would have no trouble seeing far more of her breasts than what was exposed. Not only that, she suspected the woman wore not a stitch beneath. The ring of her nipples stood dark and taut.
The gong sounded for dinner, and Clive inclined his head and gave a little bow. “Do me the honor of escorting me in,” he said to her.
Claire took his arm. She could see how she might easily find his lazily wicked manner and devil-may-care good looks irresistible. No doubt he was just as she’d thought. A rogue. A bounder.
When everyone was seated, Gray’s mother rose to tiny, slippered feet and tapped her fork on a crystal glass. “Hear, hear, everyone!” she called, gathering everyone’s attention. “Good evening and welcome to my son’s birthday celebration. We will not talk about age—certainly not I!—but I hope you will join me in wishing my son the heartiest of birthday wishes.”
Beside Claire, Clive rose and offered another toast. It ended with several more toasts, then everyone joined together in conveying birthday wishes.
The beauty beside Gray framed his face between her hands and kissed him full upon the lips. In the next half breath, their heads were nestled together intimately.
Claire deliberately looked away and reached for her wine glass, praying fervently that the meal would end soon. She didn’t notice the disapproving tightness on Charlotte Sutherland’s lips.
When the meal was over, she saw the duke engaged in conversation with an acquaintance in the adjoining room, where the furniture had been pushed aside for dancing. Some of the faces were familiar. Claire nodded and smiled. She was growing more comfortable in this world. She didn’t particularly care for it, however. She would rather have been home at Wildewood, caring for her garden. Caring for the people on the estate.
But there was nothing left for her there either. Not anymore.
She was gripped by a stark, sudden emptiness. Her heart knotted. Oliver had written home occasionally; he had clearly reveled in this world of parties and balls.
And the darker world that lurked beneath the facade of manners and morals.
Bitterness seeped through her. If only he had been stronger. If only he had reached out to his family. Instead he had succumbed—and lost his life in the bargain.
Claire moved about, restless. In time she made her way outside and into the garden.
She didn’t notice that she was followed.
She seated herself on a carved stone bench. Music, laughter, and bits of conversation drifted to her ears. The darkness was oddly soothing. She turned her head, to discover she wasn’t alone.
“My word, sir, you gave me a start!”
A man dressed in evening clothes stood before her. Claire guessed he was younger than Gray. It had
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