A Little Bit Sinful

Prologue


LONDON, OCTOBER 1875

Clarissa Kincaid wanted to scream, wanted to the run through the house pulling at her hair. Instead, she settled for a calmer, though nonetheless equally unladylike, groan.

Her aunt sat with a letter from her sister in Cornwall. She didn’t bother looking up. “What is it this time?” Aunt Maureen asked from the settee.

“Another denial letter from Mr. Franklin.” Clarissa slammed the letter down on the desk and blew out a breath. “I have lost my patience with that man.”

“Oh dear.” Maureen dropped the letter, then wrapped her handkerchief around her fingers again and again. “What are we to do if the man refuses to deal with us? We shall certainly starve if he will not release monies to us.”

Clarissa resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Aunt Maureen had always been somewhat on the dramatic side. “We are not going to starve. Settle yourself, Aunt Maureen. I shall think of something.” Her eldest brother, the earl, had been dead a little over two months now and they had survived on the remainder of Aunt Maureen’s savings, which hadn’t been much. But they were running out. Clarissa still had some money hidden away, but she was saving it until they absolutely had to use it. She had been attempting to work with their family solicitor, but he “refused to entertain requests from any woman.” The narrow-minded fool insisted on hearing directly from the new earl, Clarissa’s other brother, Marcus. The only problem with that was that Marcus had been gone for nearly ten years and no one had any idea when he’d return. Or if he’d return.

“Well, this is simply unacceptable, Clarissa, there must be something we can do,” Maureen said. Her handkerchief now sat in a sad little ball upon her lap and she’d begun working the fabric of her skirt.

Clarissa needed to think of something soon before her aunt had worn through all of her clothing.

“If only we had a more reasonable solicitor to work with,” Maureen said. “Someone who would allow us some say in the matter, or at the very least be willing to communicate with us. This is…this is simply dreadful.”

“Precisely.” Maureen was right. They needed a different solicitor, but where would they find one willing to work with them? And how was she to dismiss Mr. Franklin if he refused to communicate with her? Then it hit her, the idea forming in her mind rapidly. She pulled out a piece of parchment from her late brother’s desk and poised pen over the paper. “You are brilliant!”

“I am. I am?” She eyed Clarissa suspiciously. “I know that look, dear. What are you doing?”

“Something I should have done shortly after Charles died. I am dismissing our current solicitor and hiring a new one.”

Aunt Maureen shook her head in confusion. “Need I remind you that you do not have the authority to do such a thing?”

“It is not I,” Clarissa said in her most innocent voice. “This letter shall come from Marcus. It is time for him to do something worthwhile for this family.”

“And you know of a solicitor who will work with us until Marcus returns home?” Maureen asked.

“Not exactly.” Clarissa smiled. “But I hear that Mr. Ignatius F. Bembridge, LLB is quite forward in his thinking.”

Maureen frowned. “Who might he be, dear?”

Clarissa stood, leaned forward across the desk holding out her hand toward her aunt. “Mr. Ignatius F. Bembridge at your service. A pleasure to meet you.”

“Oh, we are doomed,” Maureen said, not bothering to shake Clarissa’s hand.

Clarissa stepped around the desk and went and sat next to her aunt. “Do not fret. I shall study Charles’ books and learn about our properties and what needs to be done. But someone needs to be in charge of things until Marcus can return. It might as well be me.” Clarissa shrugged. “It will at the very least give us access to the funds right now. And I shall write another letter to Thomas Adventure Tours. Perhaps they can find my wayward brother.”

“Good heavens, child, what if someone discovers what you’re about?” She retrieved her sad wad of a handkerchief and began to worry the fabric again.

“They won’t. It shall be our little secret.”