The seven Sinclair
brothers and sisters live for scandal and delight in disgrace—until
their father decrees that they must reform. Propriety has
never come easily, but now they have no choice. Marry in haste...or
regret in poverty.
Sneak Peek from Chapter Two of To Sin With a Stranger
Christiana turned her head and nodded toward the Sinclairs. “They are known as the Seven Deadly Sins.” It appeared to Isobel that her friend was trying very hard not to show her glee in being able to share a juicy bite of gossip with her.
“What do you mean?” Isobel could not help but mentally count the number of Sinclairs standing near the doorway. Seven.
“It’s true. Word over scandal broth is that the Duchess of Sinclair died birthing the twins, Lord Killian and Lady Priscilla. It is said that their father mourned deeply, finally retreating to the comfort of drink, and for years allowed the seven children to run wild, do whatever they pleased.”
Isobel lowered her head. She well understood losing a mother and the devastating effect death can have on what is left of a family. Heat needled the backs of her eyes. Unbidden, her mind recalled the night her mother had slipped irretrievably into grief—and, by her own hand, had put an end to her pain and sense of loss, forever.
“Before long, all of Edinburgh Society referred to the ill-behaved Sinclair children as the Seven Deadly Sins.”
“That’s horrible. They’d lost their mother...and their father to drink.” Isobel glanced at the fighter again, this time with a little compassion and understanding.
Christiana squeezed Isobel’s arm, forcing her attention back to the story she was telling. “There is more. As the Sinclair children grew older, they seemed to embrace the sins Society had labeled them with. Sterling, the Marquess of Blackburn, is cursed with greed.” Christiana turned her eyes toward the fighter and Isobel followed her gaze. “Lady Siusan epitomizes sloth, and Lady Ivy, the copper-haired beauty, envy.”
“This is nonsense.”
“Is it?” Christiana continued. “Lord Lachlan is a wicked rake. No wonder his weakness is lust. Lord Grant, the one with the lace cuffs is said to have a taste for luxury and indulgence. His sin is gluttony. The twins are said to be the worst of all.” She feigned a shudder.
“Why do you say that?” Isobel pinned her friend with her gaze. “What are their supposed sins?”
Christiana raised her nose toward the Sinclair with a sheath of hair so dark that it almost appeared a deep blue. “Lord Killian’s sin is wrath. Whispers suggest that he is the true fighter in the family, but his anger is too quick and fierce. Why, there is even one rumor that claims that he actually killed a man who merely looked at his twin sister! That’s her, there. Lady Priscilla. Just look at her with her haughty chin turned toward the chandelier—here, in a room full of nobility! Her sin is, quite clearly, pride.”
“Nonsense! I do not believe it,” Isobel countered. “I do not believe any of the story. The tale is not but idle gossip.”
“I believe it.” Christiana set her one hand on her hip and waved the other in the air as she spoke. “Why else would they have come to London, if not to leave their sinful reputations behind in Scotland?”
“I am sure I do not know.” Isobel saw Christiana’s jaw drop, and then felt the presence of someone behind her.
“Perhaps I have come to London to ask you to dance with me, lassie.” His rich Scottish brogue resonated in her ears, making her vibrate with his every word.
Isobel whirled around and stared up into none other that the marquess’s grinning face.
“I apologize, I would address you by name, but alas, I haven’t had the pleasure of hearing it.” A warm smile eased across his lips. “In truth, the only thing I know about you is that you are easily the most beautiful woman in this assembly room.” Before she could blink, he reached a bare hand toward her, starling her. He saw her staring at it and was compelled to explain. “I beg your pardon.” He moved his hands away, but held his right fist before her as though he meant it as proof of his coming assertion. “My hands are too swollen and injured to fit into gloves. The patronesses understand my lack of gloves has nothing to do with lack of respect.” He chuckled softly. “And there are some advantages to forgoing gloves.”
“Such as?” she managed.
Within an instant, he raised his knuckles, stitched with black threads, and brushed the backs his fingers across her cheek-just as he’d done at the club. He sucked in a surprised breath. “English lasses don’t stir me that way you do. You must be a wee bit Scottish.”
Isobel gasped, and drew back her own hand and gave his cheek a stinging slap. “My lord, you overstep!”
“I only wished to ask you to dance.”
“To dance? Dance? Y-you...you caressed
my cheek. You humiliated me at the club—made light of my
charity and my attempts to help widows and orphans of war.
Why would I ever agree to dance with an ill-mannered rogue like
you?”
“Because I asked, and...well, I saw the way you were looking at me when I entered the assembly rooms.” He lifted an eyebrow teasingly, bringing to the surface a rage Isobel could not reign in. She slapped his face again with such force, that his head wrenched to the left.
He raised his hand to his cheek. “Not bad. Have you thought about pugilism as a profession?” He grinned at her again.
Isobel stepped around Sterling Sinclair, the beast of Blackburn, and started for her father. But the minister was only two steps away. Staring at her, aghast. She reached out for her father’s arm, but he stepped back, out of her reach.
She glanced to her left and then her right. Everyone was staring. Everyone.
Isobel covered her face with her trembling hands, and shoved her way through the crowd of amused onlookers. She dashed out the door and down the steps to the liveried footman who opened the outer door for her to the street.
She ran outside and rested her hands on her knees as she gasped for breath. Her father would surely cast her to the pigs for embarrassing him this night.
No matter what punishment he chose for her, Isobel was certain she he would never allow her to show her face in Town again.
And Lord Blackburn, the wicked Marquess of Blackburn, was wholly to blame.
End of Sneak Peek Excerpt.
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