A Little Bit Sinful

chapter Nine


Justin and his brother met for luncheon fairly regularly, and he was not certain today he’d be much company. His mind was otherwise engaged. Thinking about George Wilbanks, Rafferty’s, and Clarissa.

All of Justin’s other inquiries about the man had come up empty. Whatever else George did with his time, besides patronize Rafferty’s, he was discreet about it. That was one thing in his favor. Justin had to wonder what the hell the man was doing courting her if he had no intention of marrying her. Perhaps their visit to Rafferty’s last night had changed her mind about George.

Justin had hurt her, he knew that and he hated it. But he didn’t regret taking her, revealing the truth to her. Were she to marry George she should at least go into such a union not being completely ignorant of her husband’s behavior.

Roe was late, as was his custom. “People expect me to be late,” he’d say. “I’m a duke.” There wasn’t much, other than cards, that Roe took seriously and he seemed to enjoy watering-down the title their father had so desperately loved. Roe knew he wasn’t any different than any other man, any better than them. But he did enjoy toying with people.

Finally he arrived looking better than he had the other day, but still somewhat disheveled.

“You know, Rodale,” he said as he removed his hat and sat at the table. “If someone coming into this club didn’t know either one of us and was told that one of us was the Duke of Chanceworth, they would probably assume it was you. Why must you insist on showing me up?”

Justin glanced at his brother over his newspaper, then folded it and set it on the table. “I bathe regularly and have my clothes pressed. I hardly see how that is my showing you up. In any case, you’re late.”

It was understood that Roe would always be late and that Justin would always comment on it.

“Yes, shoot me. There was wretched traffic. Poor Lady Gramble lost a wheel on her new curricle and tied up all of Bond Street.” Roe sighed dramatically.

The footman came and brought them today’s fare, an earthy and aromatic lamb stew with hot buttered bread on the side.

“I’m not certain when I ate last, but this smells delicious,” Roe said. He took a bite then swore loudly. “That’s bloody hot.”

Justin chuckled. “You should wait and let it cool.”

Roe swore, but pushed the bowl aside for a moment. He crossed his legs and leaned back in his chair. “So tell me, what news do you have to tell me today?”

Justin stirred his stew, trying to cool the hot soup. “Nothing. I am courting that girl and I suspect my attention is working to some degree. I’m told she danced with two other gentlemen the other night. And that a third asked if she would be attending the theatre later this week.”

“Ah yes, how are you enjoying your latest foray into polite society?”

“It’s entertaining,” Justin said. They ate in silence for a few moments before Justin spoke again. “In particular the rumors about my lineage.”

Roe looked up over the table. “Oh, now that sounds interesting.” He tried another bite, and this one went down much easier.

“Yes, evidently my mother was French royalty. I overheard as much at a ball the other night.”

“It could be true.” Roe shrugged. “Don’t suppose we know.”

“It seems highly unlikely.” Justin took a bite of his own stew and chewed thoughtfully. “And well, all the pertinent players are already dead.”

“Unless she’s still alive.”

“My mother?” Justin certainly lived as if that were true. He’d been looking for her for years and until he uncovered her identity and found out for certain that she was dead, he would believe her alive. But he would not tell Roe that. “It’s doubtful.”

They ate in silence for a few moments before Justin spoke again. “I discovered that George Wilbanks frequents Rafferty’s.”

Roe whistled. “Are you still investigating him?” He held up a hand. “I won’t ask, but I suspect it involves a certain fair-haired chit.”

Justin grinned in spite of himself. “Rafferty’s is not a place for genteel women.”

“Did he take said genteel woman there?”

“No.” But Justin had. Guilt knotted in his stomach. What the devil had he been thinking to take Chrissy to such a place? Even safely ensconced in a carriage, what if she had been seen? He was the worst sort of ass. Still he hadn’t known another way to show her George’s true nature.

“Why don’t you simply court the girl yourself and be done with it? Marry her and have little blonde, blue-eyed devils.”

If only it were that simple. “You know I cannot do that. Clarissa deserves more than to be the wife of someone the likes of me.”

“She could do a lot worse too, as you’ve discovered with the Wilbanks fellow. He might inherit a title, but with you she’d never want for anything. You have more money than God,” Roe said.

“True.” But he could never marry Clarissa, as appealing as that notion sounded. “How is the playing going?”

“Excellent,” Roe said, allowing him to change the subject. He leaned forward, narrowing his eyes. “I’ve heard a rumor though. About a new player at Rodale’s. Any truth to it?”

Justin nodded. “Ah yes, a young man. But he plays in the back room rather than the main floor.”

“Is he any good?”

Justin nodded. “He hasn’t lost yet.” Ever since Clipps had brought the young man to Justin’s attention, they’d been watching him carefully. So far he’d shown no signs of cheating. “Scrawny fellow, but he seems to be on the up and up.”

“I want to play him,” Roe said.

Justin shook his head. “You know that isn’t going to happen. There are men on the main floor that would be none too pleased if I allowed someone from the back room to play among them. They are not interested in mixing with the servants and commoners.”

Roe pointed his spoon at his brother. “You could make it happen. What is the use of having a brother who owns a gaming hell if he can’t break the rules for me? It would be by special invitation from the Duke of Chanceworth.”

“I’ll consider it. But not now.” Now his thoughts were filled of Chrissy and her lovely blue eyes brimming with tears as she’d begged him to drive her away from that filthy place.

…

It was nearly midnight when Justin heard the knock at his front door. He never required his staff to work late in the evening so he walked to the door himself. Besides any late night visitors he got were either women or men wanting to make a deal regarding their debts, neither of which his servants could manage.

He opened the door and there stood a woman, though her face was covered by a darkened cloak.

“Can I help you?”

She looked up then and he could see her eyes peeking through the darkness of her hood. Blue eyes.

“Chrissy?” He jerked her inside. “What the devil are you doing here? Are you deliberately trying to get me to ruin your reputation?”

“Of course not. I made certain no one saw me and in this no one can see who I am.” She flipped the hood off her face. Pink stained her cheeks from the cool night air. God she looked so beautiful.

He swallowed. “Come, we can talk in my study,” he said. He turned and walked to the room, not bothering to see if she followed. Part of him hoped she’d come to her senses and returned to her carriage. He’d done his level best to resist her one too many times, tonight he could make no such promises. But when he turned around in his study, she stood near one of the chairs. “What do you want, Clarissa?”

She looked up, her lips parted. “You don’t usually use my given name.” She chewed at her lip, then slid out from under her heavy cloak. Beneath she wore a dressing gown.

He swore.

“Don’t make this harder for me than it already is,” she said, her voice shaky and unsure. “I need your help.”

The nearly sheer fabric left little to his imagination. He couldn’t see anything directly, but the outline of her every curve had lust pounding to his groin. Her shapely hips and narrow waist, the fullness of her breasts, damn but he wanted her. “Help is not what I have in mind when I look at you in that.”

She smiled. “That is good news.” Again she chewed at her lip, the motion both innocent and seductive, and the mixture was nothing short of intoxicating. He remembered the night in her bedchamber, his mouth on her breast, her unabashed response to him. His trousers became increasingly uncomfortable.

“I want you to teach me to be a seductress.”

Justin sat in the chair to keep himself from either throttling her or teaching her how dangerous that request was. “You’re going to have to give me an explanation.”

“The other night, when you took me to Rafferty’s, and I saw George, I realized something. He does not look upon me that way because he believes me to be too pure, too much of a lady. It is my understanding that most men want their women to behave the lady in public, but when it comes to the bedroom, they prefer, how shall I say this.” She paused. “Harlots?”

He nearly laughed, but he couldn’t manage a response of anything. She was still intent on marrying George. The realization of that was like a knife in Justin’s chest, but he ignored the discomfort. If Wilbanks could not see the passion inside Clarissa, he was not only a cad, he was also a fool. “Who told you that?”

“It seems to be the general consensus.” She came and sat in one of the chairs near his.

“How do you suggest that I instruct you to be a seductress?” It was a dangerous question. Would that he behave the perfect gentleman, he’d load her back into her carriage and send her straight home, as he’d promised her brother he’d do if she dared show up at his gaming hell again. Of course this was not Rodale’s nor was it the first of her late night visits. And damned if Justin’s own curiosity hadn’t gotten the better of him.

“If I knew the specifics, I would not need your assistance,” she said. “Rebecca died before she could explain much to be about the goings on between and man and his wife, the duties of the marital bed, as it were.” She came to her feet and walked over to stand in front of him, her arms crossed over her body. She stood for a moment, then dropped her hands. “If I were a woman that you desired, one you planned an affair with, how would you proceed now?”

“First of all, this isn’t about desirability. That, you already possess. Nor is this about duty, at least it shouldn’t be. There should be enough attraction between husband and wife that the marital bed, as you called it, is pleasurable for both of them.”

“What do you mean I already possess desirability? If that were true, then why did you walk away from me the other night? You said that it couldn’t be me. That most certainly implies something is wrong with me.”

He came to stand in front of her, gripped her arms. “Chrissy, take a breath. You thought I left because I did not want you?”

She nodded, exhaled slowly.

“Silly woman.”

“Why then?”

“I’m not certain the truth is something I want to share with you.”

She frowned. “I don’t understand.”

“It isn’t right for me to tell you how much I want you when you are so intent to be another man’s wife.”

She opened her mouth and then closed it.

“I can, of course, explain matters of the flesh to you though. You said you want to be the seductress. In order to be that, you must be the one to take the action. If you want a man to kiss you, then kiss him first. If you want a man to touch you, touch him first,” he said. “It is as simple as that.”

She was treading on very dangerous territory and she didn’t seem to see that. She might claim to be here because of some misguided attempt to seduce George, but the truth was she wanted Justin. He knew that, could see it in her eyes. She simply didn’t know what to do with that desire because a union between them would ruin her plans.

Her skin was cool beneath the sheer fabric of her dressing gown. His eyes immediately dropped to her chest and he could see the faint shadow of her breasts, see the hardness of her nipples pushing against the fabric. The trick now was to see if he could teach her a lesson without losing control of his own desires because all he wanted to do right now was toss her down on the carpet in front of the hearth and plow into her, show her precisely how desirable she was.

He walked her toward the fireplace so that she could be warmed by the flames. She shivered a little, then nodded. “Thank you. Now then, I should simply kiss you?”

“Kissing is generally the way seductions begin, unless you’d prefer to verbally seduce me.”

“Verbally seduce you?”

“Yes, you can tell me what you want to do to me and what you want me to do to you,” he said.

“Oh my,” she said, her voice full of breath. “I don’t think I could do that.”

“Clarissa, this really isn’t necessary, I can assure you that you are a very desirable woman. If George cannot see that, he’s an idiot.”

She shook her head fervently. “No. I have no one else to talk about this with. I need to know what it is that a man will want me to do, how to please him.”

“So kiss me,” he said.

She looked up at him and for a moment seemed trapped in his gaze, her blue eyes wide and curious. She licked her lips and all Justin could think was that whatever George Wilbanks was doing at Rafferty’s, he was a damned fool that he hadn’t married this woman yet.

She took a step closer, placed one pale hand against his chest and lifted up on her toes. Gently, she pressed her lips to his.

The tentative, innocent touch of her lips was nearly his undoing. How could she affect him so without even knowing she did? Her exploration grew bolder, as her other hand crept around his neck. She pulled him closer, then opened her mouth to him. He kissed her back. He didn’t need to be asked, he didn’t require an invitation; she was the one who had shown up here wearing little more than her nightclothes and asking him to teach her the art of seduction.

He put his arm around her waist and pulled her closer to him, plastering her body, all-warm and soft curves, against himself. He cursed himself for still wearing his waistcoat and cravat. He wanted to feel her closer to him, wanted the sensation of her skin against his own. His hand slid down and grabbed onto her bottom and pressed her to him.

She released a little squeak of surprise, but never stopped kissing him.

“Clarissa,” he said, pulling away from her. “You don’t need to do this.”

“I want to,” she said. “I want to know what it is to seduce a man, to arouse him, to make him want me.”

She was already well skilled in those areas, but perhaps it was best she not yet know that. He kissed her again, his tongue delving into her mouth, and she wrapped both arms around his neck. Her breasts, pert and soft with hardened nipples, grazed against his shirt. Damned clothes. He wanted to see her, but he didn’t dare. He had to remain in control. He wanted to teach her a lesson, not take advantage of her naïveté.

He slid one hand up her torso, loving the soft feel of her body beneath his hand. He cupped one breast, weighing it in his hand. She did not have overly large breasts, but enough to fit nicely in his hand. Her nipple pressed against the fabric of her nightrail into his palm. Without another thought he slid his hand into the bodice, and finally, skin on skin. Her soft, burning skin against his palm. He shifted in an attempt to give his growing erection enough room in his trousers.

She moaned at his touch, kissed him more deeply, more passionately.

He stopped kissing her and moved his mouth to her jaw and then further down her neck to her throat, shoulder blade, nibbling and kissing as he made his exploration. Until he reached her and he sucked her nipple into his mouth, licked and kissed her breast. Her shocked moans filled the quiet of his study.

He wanted her. Badly. Right here. Right now. But this could not happen.

He abruptly stopped, stepped away from her. “If you want to retain your virtue, I suggest you leave. Now. I only have so much control.” He didn’t turn to face her, to see the hurt in her face, wonder in her lovely blue eyes.

“Justin, I…I am sorry,” she said.

He heard her rustling with her clothes and when he finally turned to face her, she was hidden in her cloak. He walked her to the door and neither said another word as he put her back into the carriage and sent her to her house.

Son of bitch, he’d almost lost it, almost tossed up her nightrail and pushed against the wall and pounded himself into her until he’d been sated, and she’d known precisely what seduction really meant.

…

The following night Justin found himself once again in attendance of a ball. He’d already danced with Miss Riverton twice, and at the moment she was dancing with a wealthy, young earl. These men were a bunch of bloody fools if they needed to have one of them show interest in a woman before she was deemed desirable.

A tall man entered the ballroom, all smiles and charm. It took Justin a moment to realize who he was. He’d seen him a handful of times, most recently that night out the carriage window with Clarissa.

George Wilbanks. The biggest bloody fool of them all.

It was time to say something to him. Justin sized him up thinking on specifically what he’d say. What he wanted to do was resort to every dirty trick everyone in Society thought he knew simply to bring that man to his knees.

“If you will excuse me,” he told Marcus, then he strolled toward George Wilbanks. He could see why Clarissa found him so appealing. He embodied what women tended to find attractive—tall, athletic, handsome with a gregarious smile.

As he approached, George turned in his direction. “Mr. Rodale, I’d been told you’d been introduced into Society, allow me to welcome you,” he said congenially. The man seemed sincere, but Justin suspected he was just a damn good actor.

“Mr. Wilbanks. I’ve been wanting to make your acquaintance. It would seem we have a mutual friend.” He fisted his hands, tempering himself else he lose what he had left of his civility and beat this man into a bloody mess.

“I suspect that in your line of work we have many mutual friends,” George said with a grin.

“Indeed. But I’m thinking of a particular friend. Lady Clarissa Kincaid.”

George’s smile faded. “Clarissa is a lovely girl.”

“Yes, she is. Might we converse more privately?” Justin suggested.

George nodded and the two men walked away from the crowd to a quieter area near some windows.

“You owe her an explanation,” Justin said.

“I beg your pardon?” George’s voice lost all hints of friendliness.

“She is under the assumption that the two of you are to be married. And now with this wager, and the fact that you’re courting Clarissa and Miss Cooper. You need to remedy the situation.”

George’s lips quirked in a grin. “Yes, I cannot be responsible for a chit’s romantic delusions. I can assure you it is not by anything I’ve said to her.” He shrugged. “Yes, I have taken her on walks, danced with her. I enjoy her company. But I have never given her any indication I have any intentions toward her.”

“You have never said to her that if the timing was right you would marry her?”

“I might have said something along those lines, but that is hardly to be considered a proposal,” George said.

“You do, in fact, have to marry though. Your father has given you an ultimatum?”

“He has, but that makes no difference to me. I shall marry when I see fit.”

He might say such a thing, but Justin was willing to wager that if daddy demanded it, George would comply.

“Your attentions are preventing her from allowing other suitors to pursue her.”

George frowned. “She is a grown woman and does what she pleases, I can assure you that. Clarissa does not need my permission to find a suitable husband.”

“She does if she’s counting on you being that husband.” Justin really wanted to hit him, right in his smug face.

“As I said, I spend time with many women. Clarissa and Miss Cooper included. It does not mean I am intending to marry any of them.”

“You are leading them on,” Justin said.

George met his gaze. “I like pretty things.” His voice was cold and even.

The man was an utter cad, yet Clarissa seemed so convinced otherwise. “Have you told her about, how shall we say it, your hobby?” Justin didn’t give him time to answer. “I’ve tried to enlighten her to some regard, but she misunderstood the situation.” He wasn’t about to tell the man that she intended to seduce him. Perhaps if he could convince George to tell Clarissa the truth, that he had no intention of marrying her, she would forget her seduction plan.

“To what are you referring?” George asked.

“Rafferty’s.” It was all that needed said.

“I see.” Darkness crossed over George’s features and gone was the congenial fellow and in the place stood a man who appeared quite deadly. “You told her about Rafferty’s?”

“I did.” No reason to mention he’d showed her as well. He still felt guilty about that.

“I don’t see what business it is of yours. You certainly cannot think to marry the girl yourself. I don’t believe bastard sons of dukes are suitable husbands for the daughter of an earl.”

Justin felt his jaw clench, he fisted his hands, but knew better than to strike the man here. And from the looks of George’s fists, the man was ready for a fight himself.

“I know Clarissa fancies me, it is a passing fancy.” He shrugged again. “Or not, it really isn’t my concern. Perhaps I’ll decide to marry her some day, but perhaps I’ll choose someone else. Miss Cooper is quite charming.”

So while Justin didn’t need to worry about George running away with Clarissa, he still had to be careful of what she would do. She was clinging to her sister-in-law’s advice because it was that last shred she had. That one tangible thing she could do to make Rebecca proud of her, even from the grave. “The honorable thing would be to tell her the truth. Stop taking her on walks, stop pretending you’re courting her when you have no intention of marrying her,” Justin said.

“I never claimed to be honorable.”

“Tell her. Or I will and with it the rest of your secrets.”

George looked him straight in the eye, turned on his heel and walked away. Then the truth of the situation hit Justin in the face. What the devil made him think he could deserve Clarissa if he didn’t believe George did?

He was a bastard by birth and a gaming hell owner. That was no life for a lady like Clarissa. Marrying her would sentence her to a life on the fringe of Society. He couldn’t do that to her.

He didn’t have any business being here among these people. He needed to get back to Rodale’s and stay there. Tonight though he was here and he wanted one more dance with Clarissa. There was one more ball he’d agreed to attend, and then after that, he’d retire from this foolishness and go back to where he belonged.