Free The Sinner by Madeline Hunter

tired.”
    McLean had been busy feeding his sweet tooth. “I have a better idea. As it happens, I was not invited to this great wedding, having once been discovered in a compromising situation with the bride’s sister—” He caught himself and grimaced at Fleur. “My apologies.”
    “None are necessary, Mr. McLean.”
    “I assure you that it was only very slightly compromising. More a misunderstanding—”
    “Your better idea,” Dante said.
    “I keep a suite of chambers here. It serves as my home in Newcastle. Why don’t I be the one to push off, and the two of you can make use of it? I had planned to depart tomorrow anyway.”
    Fleur looked amenable to the suggestion. Dante shot McLean a meaningful glare. “Are these chambers similar to the ones that you keep in London?”
    “Much more elegant. You will find them acceptable, I think.” He belatedly understood the question’s true meaning. “Oh. You mean . . .” He glanced at Fleur. “Not at all. For the most part, these are very traditional in their decor. And the library, while small, is almost entirely composed of the predictable classics.”
    Dante remained skeptical of “for the most part” and “almost entirely.” Mclean’s London rooms comprised a sexual play yard. And the library . . .
    “You will not be embarrassed, Duclairc,” McLean mumbled while Fleur was distracted by a server. “Nor will your bride be shocked.”
    “I would prefer to delay more travel until tomorrow, if we could,” Fleur said, her attention returning. “If it would not inconvenience you, Mr. McLean.”
    “No inconvenience at all. I am joyed to be of assistance.” He rose. “I will have the servants prepare for you. All should be ready in a couple of hours. Duclairc, I will let you know when I am next in London. Perhaps you will call on me.” He took his leave.
    “What a thoughtful man,” Fleur said. “He is a good friend?”
    “Yes.”
    “He appeared a little sad when he left. He thinks that you will have to repudiate your bachelor friends now that you have tied the knot, doesn’t he?”
    “It is often the case.”
    “He will be relieved to learn that it is not
your
case.”
    Her indifference to that unaccountably annoyed him.
    Of course she would be indifferent. He wanted her to be. He certainly did not want her resentful and demanding. That would turn this white marriage into a farce worthy of the lowest opera house.
    He knew why he was reacting like this. The little ceremony in the stone church had moved him in unexpected ways. It had left him both surprisingly happy and oddly melancholy. It had been the deeper part of him, a part he preferred to ignore, that had experienced the latter sentiment.
    It stirred in him now again.
    “Have you finished?” he asked. “If so, why don’t we take a turn and see the old city.”
    His beautiful wife dabbed the last of McLean’s cake from her lovely lips and extended her little feminine hand to him.
             
    The staff of the Versailles were expecting them. When they arrived at dusk they were ushered into McLean’s suite.
    Dante quickly examined its entirety while Fleur went to remove her bonnet in the bedchamber.
    The
only
bedchamber, he discovered.
    He stood in the middle of the sitting room and examined the delicate furniture laid out around him. In London, McLean’s sitting room was full of soft chaise longues and deep divans. Every seat invited sprawled comfort and provided convenience for seduction.
    He would gladly exchange this room for the one in London at the moment. He would find a way to explain the swing hanging from the ceiling if it meant getting a good night’s sleep.
    “Oh, my, this is amazing,” Fleur’s distant voice exclaimed.
    He followed the sound through the bedchamber and dressing room to a large tiled closet.
    “Look.” Fleur bent over a large tub shaped like a shoe and turned a handle on the wall above it. “It comes out warm. They must heat it on the roof before