The Sins of Viscount Sutherland Read Online Free PDF

wistfulness. She did not delude herself. She hadn’t from the start. A husband was the last thing on her mind. The only man in her life was her so-called dead husband.
    Penelope’s expression grew troubled. “Claire,” she said, “if this charade is discovered, you’ll never be able to have a family of your own. You’ll be disgraced. The best you can hope for is a position as governess or companion.”
    As always, it was as if Penelope read her mind. And once again a pang shot through her. Claire willed it away. She had known from the start that she could never have what Penelope and Theo had. An abiding love that would never be shaken. A husband who adored her as passionately as she adored him. Children. And children. They, too, were beyond her reach. The course she had begun last night would seal away that possibility forever.
    Should she succeed , needled a voice within .
    But she would. She would .
    No, it did not sway her mind.
    “We’ve discussed this.” Quietly—but oh, most fervently!—Claire reminded her friend. “I am ready. This is a sacrifice I make gladly.”
    She poured tea for Penelope, then passed her cup and saucer.
    “What happened last night, Claire? I asked after you, but I was told you had gone home.”
    Claire took a deep breath. “I did.”
    “And the viscount?”
    Raising her teacup, Claire blew on the surface, pretending to cool it. “He escorted me.”
    “And?”
    “And . . . that is all.”
    “What do you mean—’that is all’?”
    “Precisely that. He escorted me home, we enjoyed a bit of brandy, and then he went on his way. His behavior was impeccable.” Her tone turned scathingly self-critical. “And this is where you tell me what an idiot I have been to think that one of London’s handsomest rakes would fall head over heels with the likes of me.”
    “You would not be dissuaded,” Penelope reminded her. “And this has nothing to do with the way you look, Claire. You’re beautiful. That blackguard is not worthy of you. I pray you are well rid of him.”
    Claire lowered her eyes.
    “Tell me, Pen,” she said suddenly. “I aroused no speculation when he escorted me home? No whispers of scandal?”
    “No. That’s one of the advantages of being a widow . . . Oh, Claire, I beseech you. Please! I beg you reconsider. But perhaps you should take this as a sign it can come to no good. I know how close you were to Oliver. But do not let Sutherland ruin your life any more than he already has.”
    “Perhaps I should see it as a sign I am meant to continue.” Claire fell silent, deep in thought. “I wonder,” she said finally, “where the good viscount will be found tonight.”
    Penelope didn’t hide her dismay. “I cannot dissuade you?”
    Claire shook her head. “Not yet. I’ve barely begun! It’s far too soon for me to give up.”
    “Very well, then. I will see what I can discover, but I must retire to my lying-in soon.”
    “I will ask no more of you, Pen. I’ve been out and about enough that I can ferret out what I need—”
    The knocker sounded at the front door. The sound of a male voice reached her ears. Then Rosalie’s. Then the sound of the door closing.
    Claire sucked in a breath. Her heart was suddenly pounding. She knew that voice. “It’s him, Pen.” She hurried to the doorway.
    In the foyer, Rosalie had already admitted Sutherland. He glanced around as Claire and Penelope appeared.
    “Good morning, Mrs. Westfield.” He tucked his hat beneath his arm and gave a slight bow. His gaze settled on Penelope. “I believe I did not have the pleasure last night.”
    Claire hastened to introduce them. “My lord, good morning. This is my dear friend, Mrs. Penelope Grove. Penelope, his lordship, Viscount Sutherland.”
    The viscount bent low over Penelope’s hand. “Charmed, I assure you.”
    “Penelope was just leaving,” Claire said crisply. “Would you care to wait in the drawing room, my lord? I’ll have tea sent in.”
    “Certainly.”