Secrets of Sin by Chloe Harris Read Free Book Online

would certainly mourn the loss of a glorious rake such as Connor.
    “I see,” Reinier gasped a little exaggerated and somewhat disappointed, but he wasn’t bothering to hide the triumphant, meaningful smile he felt. “Seeing that she is out of the question, I might have to find someone else for it, though,” he whispered, leaning closer, so close to Connor that their lips almost met.
    Reinier had expected anything but Connor’s surprising response, a sly curling of his lips into much the same enigmatic smile he himself had felt on his own face mere moments ago.
    “You are charmingly incorrigible.” Connor smirked. “Go ahead and tease me now. But you’ll see. You’ll soon see, my friend.”
    Now it was Reinier’s turn to look—and feel—quite perplexed.

3
    “M istress!”
    Emiline was stopped by Justine’s breathless, distressed squeal as soon as she entered the house. Hands in her apron, the lady’s maid who had been on Bougainvilla since Emiline’s childhood seemed quite agitated. Her eyes were unnaturally wide, as was her mouth.
    With a sad smile, Emiline remembered when she had last seen Justine like this. It was when one of the downstairs maids had broken several saucers of her mother’s most precious china.
    Emiline cut the maid off with a simple, weary shake of her head and continued toward the stairs up to her room. “Justine, whatever has you flustered like this, whether it’s another piece of the china or something similarly dramatic, please stop. I’m too tired and I long for a bath.”
    Justine clapped her mouth shut. Then her forehead wrinkled. “But…”
    Once more Emiline shook her head and handed the maid her old hat and worn leather gloves. Justine could wait. It had been another exhausting day in the fields. A long, hot bath would ease the ache in her back a little and the stiffness in her muscles too. Besides, it was part of her daily routine. After a day in the fields, she’d relax in steaming water; then she’d have tea in the parlor and read a little or brood over the ledgers in the study until it was time for dinner.
    When she entered her chamber, Emiline leaned against the door, closing her eyes with a sigh. She felt so tired. The people of Ronde all worked hard for her and she worked with them. There was no day off for the Mistress of Bougainvilla.
    When her father had died, Emiline had to learn to take a man’s role, to take on all the responsibilities the trade required without complaint—and she had. She’d made Bougainvilla the most profitable sugarcane estate in the West Indies.
    She pushed off the door and began to open the laces of her plain linen dress that was mended in too many places and now dirty from the fields. Emiline made her way to the bathtub in the adjoining room and let herself sink into the hot water.
    Having scrubbed herself clean until the water was white from the soap, Emiline allowed herself to linger a little longer. She leaned back, feeling the soreness in her muscles ease.
    The scent of bougainvilleas wafted to her through the open windows. That’s where the name of the estate came from. They’d been her mother’s favorite flowers, and the villa was surrounded by them.
    The estate and the tiny island were Emiline’s whole world, and she ruled it. She had to. There was no one else to do it for her.
    Sometimes she felt very alone. But that was ridiculous really. She had a busy life. There was nothing she lacked, and she was a very successful businesswoman. There was no need, she told herself, for a family.
    Once she’d thought herself in love. Once was enough to teach her. That love had been so fierce and all-encompassing, it burnt her. Oh, it had definitely been enough.
    The ever-present, soft breeze from the sea through the windows reminded her that the water had turned cool already, so she stepped out of the bathtub and grabbed a towel.
    While rubbing herself dry, she was thinking about the parlor. She’d have tea there, as usual.