A Little Bit Sinful

chapter Fourteen


Justin led Clarissa into the ballroom, her arm linked with his. Hell, he hadn’t wanted to come to this thing tonight, but he knew it was important for Clarissa’s sake. If she disappeared from Society now, it would only breed more contention and rumor surrounding her compromise and their marriage.

He knew what it was like to live at the fringe of Society and he didn’t want that for her. So he fully intended to go with her to whatever party she wanted to attend and he’d dare anyone to say anything untoward about her or to her.

He didn’t know where her interest in his mother had come from. But he suspected she might want to discover that his mother was, indeed French royalty in an effort to make Justin himself seem more noble, more worthy to be among the rest of them. He suspected, though, that should they ever uncover his mother’s identity, Clarissa would be sadly disappointed.

…

It was their first outing as a married couple and to say Clarissa felt waves of nervousness was a gross understatement. She had no way of knowing how she would be greeted, or what everyone was saying since her compromise. Did people believe it was she and Justin who had been caught in an embrace that night, or would she be brandished a fallen woman? She wasn’t certain if Justin’s name was enough to protect her from the sharper tongues of London.

The conversation in the carriage on the way here about his mother had not gone as well as she’d hoped. Perhaps she should have been more gentle when bringing up the information about his mother, but how was she to know that he’d been lied to his entire life?

She’d, at least, seen a photograph of her mother and had heard her brothers speak of her. Clarissa knew she favored her mother in coloring, if not temperament. But Justin, he had nothing save what someone had told him and she had ripped that away from him. She sighed.

Perhaps if she brought him some information, something concrete, then he’d see how helpful she could be. Tonight she would speak to Lady Forrester, see if she could get additional information from what Ella’s mother had told her. She didn’t want to desert him when they first arrived, but she was eager to find Ella. She made a quick excuse once Justin was safely surrounded by Marcus and Vivian and Aunt Maureen.

Clarissa spotted Ella and grabbed her arm. “I have been waiting for you forever,” she said. “Come with me.”

“Where?”

“To speak with Lady Forrester.”

Ella grinned broadly. “I’m pleased to see you are following up with matters concerning Mr. Rodale’s mother.”

That gave her pause. Perhaps this was not the most appropriate task for her to pursue in light of the fact that he hadn’t seemed too keen on the idea. But if she could uncover his mother’s identity for him, that would be worthwhile.

Justin had been kind enough to insert himself back into Society, a place she’d always assumed he hated, in order to support her. She owed him. Yes, that was most certainly why she was looking into the identity of his mother.

“Have you ever met Lady Forrester?” Ella asked.

“Yes, but it was years ago. Haven’t spoken to her since,” Clarissa said.

“Well, we simply cannot walk up and ask her which French woman had an affair with the Duke of Chanceworth.”

“Of course not. We shall have to be more delicate.” As they approached the woman, Clarissa hoped that delicate manner would come to her because at that very moment, when Lady Forrester turned to look at them, Clarissa didn’t have the slightest idea of what she would say.

Both she and Ella curtsied.

“My lady,” Ella said. “My mother was telling us the most fascinating story the other day.”

Thankfully Ella had more wits about her. Clarissa smiled. “Yes, about the revolution in France when many of you took refuge here in London.”

Lady Forrester smiled in return. “Oui, it was when I met my amour,” she said. Though age had grayed parts of her red hair and lined parts of her face, she was still a beautiful woman. Her green eyes shone brightly and her smile spoke of genuine friendliness.

“There were others of you that came?” Clarissa asked.

“Oh oui, there were perhaps twenty of us.” She frowned. “Mostly girls and a few of our parents or chaperones. The men stayed to fight or protect their properties, but we came here for protection, and we had a glorious time.”

“Did you know all of them?” Ella asked.

She nodded. “Yes, most of us grew quite close. Some of us still correspond with letters. And then I wasn’t the only one who stayed here in England.”

Clarissa’s stomach jolted at the news. Perhaps Justin’s mother had stayed here in England and was still here, all these years later.

“Let me see. Juliet moved to Brighton as she loved the seaside there, Celeste went to medical school and became a doctor. Mercedes also stayed, but I’m afraid she died from the fever last year,” Lady Forrester said.

“I’m very sorry,” Clarissa said.

“Thank you, she was a dear friend.”

“That must have been quite difficult, trying to find places for all of you to stay during the height of the Season,” Clarissa said.

“No, not at all. We all stayed in the Manchester House. It was lovely. Lady Manchester was a widow and she had opened her grand home up as a hotel and we all lived there together. She was wonderfully hospitable.”

Clarissa and Ella looked at each other and smiled. Manchester House, it was still a hotel. Clarissa knew where it was.

“I suspect you were not the only one who found love while you were here,” Ella said.

“Ah, no, amour was all around.” She laughed.

“Anyone fall in love, but not get to stay as you did?” Clarissa asked.

Lady Forrester’s eyes narrowed. “What are you asking, my dears?”

Clarissa looked at Ella and gave a little shake of her head. They could not come right out and ask or else risk starting rumors anew. While Lady Forrester seemed kind and unassuming, they did not know her and therefore could not trust her with such information. “Nothing, we merely thought it was such a romantic story.” Clarissa feigned a giggle she hoped sounded authentic enough.

Lady Forrester smiled. “You shall find love, my dears, in time.” She motioned for them to come closer. “I have such fondness for you English, but English ladies are taught to wait on the gentleman. If you know you have found the right one, you go after him.”

Clarissa and Ella walked away, arm-in-arm.

“If I had my eye on someone, I would take her advice,” Ella said boldly. “I think she’s right. Why should we have to wait on the men?”

“But it can also get you into more trouble than it’s worth,” Clarissa said.

Ella squeezed her friend’s hand. “True, but in the end I believe you married the best man for you. In time I hope you’ll agree with me.”

…

They had been home from the ball for nearly half an hour. Justin had tried to give her time to undress, have the maid take her hair down. He rapped his knuckle against Clarissa’s bedchamber door.

“Come in,” she said.

Justin opened the door. Clarissa sat at her dressing table, brushing her hair. She smiled shyly at him. He stepped inside her room and closed the door behind him.

“Do you need help?” he asked.

“No, I’m nearly done.” She brushed a few more times, then methodically worked her hair into a long braid that went down her back. She stood and faced him. She removed her dressing gown, leaving her in nothing but the sheer shift he’d purchased for her. He took in the sight of her.

His mouth went dry.

“Do you like it?” he managed to ask.

“I do, it’s very soft.” She ran her hands down the gossamer fabric, it moved like water across her perfect body. The sheer fabric hugged her curves. “Do you like it?” she asked in return.

He met her gaze. “Indeed. It is why I purchased it for you. I knew you would look stunning in it. I was not wrong.” He took several steps toward her and she met him the rest of the way.

“You will be a good husband to me, Justin,” she said.

Her words echoed through him, words he never thought he’d hear, at least not from her. “I shall try. Every day, I shall try.”

She slid her arms up around his neck. “I thought tonight, I would.” She chewed at her bottom lip. “That is to say, I thought I would take your advice. You asked me once or suggested that you be the man I use my seduction on.” She smiled. “As it turns out you were training me for you.”

“Do your worst, Lady Seductress,” he said. She began working at his buttons of his shirt. Once they were all undone, her warm hands slid across his chest, down his abdomen. The muscles there tightened beneath her touch.

She slid the shirt off his shoulders, down his back and onto the floor. She leaned in, placed a kiss on his chest, her mouth tentative at first and so soft. She grew more brazen with each kiss until she nipped and licked at him. He closed his eyes, focusing in on her every touch. God how he wanted this woman as he’d never wanted another.

Her fingers dipped into the waistband of his trousers ever so slightly. Her mouth found his, slanted across him, her tongue swept across his in an invitation he could not ignore. He kissed her back eliciting a feminine groan from her throat. Her fingers slid lower into his pants, brushing across his erection. Then her hand was gone and she pulled back from the kiss.

“My apologies having never unfastened a gentleman’s trousers before. I should like to see what I’m doing,” she said with an impish grin.

It was a slip, the word she’d used, but it warmed him from the inside. Gentleman. Oh, how he’d wish that were true. If only for her, he wished he’d not been a bastard, not been the product of an affair so he could offer his sweet Chrissy a good name.

She unfastened his pants and slid them down his legs, then worked on his undergarments until he stood before her without a stitch of clothing. “I should like you on the bed now,” she said boldly.

“Indeed.” He followed her orders.

“Now then, tonight I believe I shall have my way with you.”

“I am but a vessel for you to enjoy,” he said.

Her eyebrows rose. She climbed up on the bed with him, still wearing the nightrail he’d purchased her. It moved flawlessly with her, flowing over her body like translucent silk.

“I like this,” she said, trailing her fingers along the hair that started at his chest and tapered down his stomach. “It is like a map.”

He chuckled. But as she bent and kissed along the trail, his laughter died in his throat. She was his. His and only his. Her fingers shimmied up his legs lightly all the while her hot mouth blazed kisses across his abdomen.

“Chrissy, you’re torturing me,” he groaned.

“Patience. I am the seductress.”

Then her mouth was on him, lightly at first, explorative. But when she took the length of him, he grabbed the sheets. Again and again she brought him closer to the edge. Then she stopped. She slid her body up his, the soft fabric tickled across his skin.

“I fear I have loosed a monster.”

She laughed. She met his gaze. “Perhaps. I do hope you don’t mind.”

“Never.”

Then she sat astride him. She pulled the nightrail off her body, tossing it onto the floor. Her breasts begged for touch. She settled herself on him, without allowing him entrance. The moisture from her desire slid against his erection. She moved against him, her eyes fluttered closed and she tilted her head back.

Damnation if she wasn’t testing his restraint. His hands cupped her breasts and she moaned in response. Her release hit quickly, her eyes shot open and she cried out. Then just as quickly, she sat up and slid herself down on top of him.

She was impossibly wet. Tight. Warm.

There was no hesitation in her movements. She took what she wanted and gave him more in return. He felt his release building. So when she climaxed again, he let go, spilling himself inside her.

His and only his.

She moved to lay next to him, her head nuzzling on his chest.

“I don’t think you need any more lessons.”

She laughed. “I had a most excellent teacher.”

They were quiet for several moments before she spoke again. “Did you know there was a group of French nobles who took refuge here in the late 1840s during the revolution?”

“Am I now to endure a history lesson?”

Clarissa moved so her chin rested on his chest and she could see his face. “Quite the contrary. I thought you would find that of personal interest.”

“And why is that?” He braced his arms behind his head.

“You are seven and twenty, are you not?” When he nodded, she continued. “Then you would have been conceived sometime in 1848, about the time the French visitors were here.”

“Clarissa, what are you talking about?”

His use of her given name meant she’d gotten his attention and not necessarily in a good way. “Your mother. Don’t you think she was probably one of them?”

He shook his head. “No, my parents met in Paris.”

She frowned. She’d been so certain after speaking with Lady Forrester. “How do you know that?”

“I was told that.”

“But don’t you think it’s possible whoever told you that didn’t tell you the truth? It’s far too much of a coincidence that so many of them were here during that very time. I know where they stayed too.”

“Why are you doing this?” he asked, all manner of flirtations and his easy nature gone.

She dipped her finger in the divot right below his throat. “I merely want to help you find your mother.”

“Yes, but why?”

She sighed. “You endeavored to put yourself out here, in Society, to help me and my situation,” she added quietly. “Then you rushed in and married me when I made an utter fool of myself. It is the very least I can do.” She looked up at him. “Plus, I know what it is like to not know your own mother.”

He sighed. “Where?”

“Manchester House.”

He stood from the bed, retrieved his clothes. “I shall look into matters.” And just like that he strode from her room, entering the door that adjoined hers to his. It closed behind him.

She’d effectively seduced him and then just as effectively, it seemed, built a wall between them. She rolled over on her back. Why was she doing this? To prove to everyone that he was just a worthy as they were to bear a title. She wanted everyone to see him as she saw him, not as a bastard, but as a true gentleman. A man full of honor and character.

…

Everything Clarissa had told him last night had given him pause. After he’d left her bed he’d gone down to his study and written out a handful of notes, sending out queries to check on a few things. This morning he’d already heard back from two of them. It would seem the little bit Clarissa had discovered certainly changed everything in regards to his search for his mother’s identity.

The woman whom had raised him, the one he’d loved and thought was his mother until that fateful day when she’d sat him at the table and told him everything. Or what he’d thought was everything. As it turns out, he wasn’t quite certain of anything she’d told him. It was funny, though, he felt no anger towards her, no bitterness. She’d been a good woman, no doubt having her hand forced by the men with power who stood invisible behind her.

Eloise had told him that his parents had had a brief affair in Paris and that his mother had been unable to take care of him.

He’d spent all of his resources investigating a time when his father had supposedly been in Paris, a time when his parents could have met and had their brief affair. And then Clarissa had brought to his attention something he’d never quite considered. What if his parents had met right there in London? If his mother had been there, that changed everything.

So far he’d confirmed that there had, in fact, been a large group of French nobles who had come to London for refuge during the last revolution. And the timing fit perfectly for his birth. It certainly explained why he’d been raised here in England rather than in France. He’d also discovered that Manchester House was still opened and acting as a hotel, though the ownership had changed.

Now he had to decide if he wanted to pursue this particular thread. He’d followed every other lead he’d ever come across and they had all led to nothing, simply one dead-end after another. But this, this was so very different than anything he’d ever looked into, which made him wonder if it wasn’t the truth.

Clarissa poked her head in the doorway of his study. “Are you working?”

He closed the letter he’d just read. “Did you eat breakfast?”

She nodded. “Your cook is wonderful. Did you steal him away from some unsuspecting lord as you did for Rodale’s?”

He grinned. She was making an effort, discussing neutral ground as a peace offering. “I did not. She’s actually Mr. Clipps’s wife’s sister. And you’re right, she is a very good cook.”

Clarissa came in and sat opposite his desk. “Justin, I did not mean to be insensitive about your mother. I merely wanted to help.”

He wanted to ask her again why, why she was so intent on helping him. She’d given him a reason last night, but he knew there was more to it. But he didn’t want to hear her say the words or to lie and say something else. He knew that if she could prove his mother was of noble birth that it would somehow make it right in her eyes that she’d had to marry him. It would make him more palatable to her. “I looked into your claims,” he said.

Her brows rose in surprise. “Already? And what did you discover?”

“Everything you said was correct. At least about the group of nobles staying in London.” He tilted his head. “Now whether or not my mother was one of the women that was here, that I do not know.”

“But you intend to find out?”

He nodded. “I do.” It would seem he’d made his decision. He would pursue this until the end.

“How?”

She wanted to help him, he could see it in her eyes, the way she chewed at her bottom lip. If finding out the truth about his mother would somehow reconcile for her the fact that she’d married a bastard, he would help her. He only hoped that what they found out didn’t make matters worse. Justin stood, braced his palms on his desk. “A visit to Manchester House.”

“I wish to accompany you on that visit,” she said.

“I suspected you might.”

She frowned. “And?”

“There’s no reason for you to go.”

“I want to help. I found this particular clue, it would seem I’ve earned a place at your side for this.”

Earned a place at his side. The words warmed his insides like a much needed meal after a long day’s journey. He exhaled slowly. “You may come along, on one condition.”

“Anything,” she said. She came to her feet, met his gaze.

“When we discover that my mother was nothing more than a French commoner promise me you won’t be disappointed.”

“Why would I be disappointed?”

“I require a promise.”

“Very well, I promise. When will be leaving?” she asked.

“After luncheon.”

She turned to leave, then paused. “Oh, Ella is joining us for luncheon today. Could she accompany us to Manchester House?”

“Why?”

“She has helped me find the information thus far. It was her mother that gave me the first clue. It seems only fitting that she…never mind, it is not of importance.”

“Yes, she can go.” If the girl would offer a buffer should they discover less than pleasant news about his mother, then he would welcome her company.

…

Ella smiled at the two of them in the carriage. The good thing about having someone else in the carriage with them though is that they did not have to discuss last night and the fact that he’d left her bed. When they’d married, he’d fully intended for them to spend every night in the same bed. But last night he’d had to leave, hadn’t been able to face her in light of the things she’d said about his mother.

“This shall be an adventure,” Ella said cheerfully.

“I want it to be productive,” Justin said.

She gave him a serious nod. “Indeed, Sir.”

Clarissa smiled. “Were it not for Ella’s mother, I’m not certain we would have stumbled upon this clue,” she said again, this time for Ella’s benefit.

“My mother knows nearly everyone in town,” Ella said. “I’ve asked her to remember if she saw any of the visiting women with your father.” She shrugged. “But that was the Season my father started courting her and she said she was addle-brained for months.”

She was endearing this one, Justin could see why Clarissa was her friend. She was genuine and happy, a good sort to be around when you tended to take matters in life too seriously. “I thank you for your assistance,” Justin said. “I have been searching for my mother’s identity for many years.”

“I’d wager you never thought your two accomplices would be the likes of us,” Ella said with a giggle.

Clarissa clicked her tongue. “It is not proper for a lady to make wagers, Ella.” Then she grinned. “Well, except for that one lady.” She met Justin’s gaze.

“Who?” Ella asked.

Clarissa shook her head. “I cannot say. It would not be the thing. Rodale’s is nothing if not discreet.”

Justin smiled.

Ella twisted her mouth and hit her hands upon her lap. “Oh you two and your secrets. No fun at all.”

Justin chuckled. “To answer your question, Lady Ella, no, I never expected to have two ladies as my accomplices.” The carriage rolled to a stop and he assisted both women down from the rig. “I would appreciate the two of you allowing me to do the talking.”

Clarissa nodded. They climbed the steps to Manchester House. It was an attractive hotel, converted from a rather large corner townhome. The lobby greeted them with light blues and yellows, fabrics and wallpaper that was probably a few years past its prime, but still in good condition.

He motioned to the two of them to sit in some of the cushioned chairs in the middle while he went to speak to the man standing behind the counter. It was not an overly large lobby so Justin felt certain everyone in the room would be able to hear his request, but nothing could be made of that.

“Yes, how may I help you, my lord?” the man asked.

“Simply a mister. I should like to speak with you about records of past guests.”

The man retrieved a book from beneath the counter and set it in front of Justin. “This contains the last year.”

“No, this would have been from a long while ago. 1847 or 1848,” he said.

The man shifted his weight. “Yes, well, that would be when my cousin owned this property.” He returned the book to under the counter.

“Do you still have the records, Sir?” Justin asked.

The man waved his hand, shaking his head. “No, no, that would be far too much trouble and I am quite busy,” he said.

Clarissa looked around the empty lobby. She stepped forward. “Yes, well, since you are so busy, might we look for you? You could simply point us in the right direction.”

The man stood there, not saying anything for several breaths. “No, you see, I meant that it would be too difficult because I do not have those records. I believe all of her records went with her when she gave this hotel to me.” His eyes looked behind Justin and then down at the counter. “I don’t believe I can help you.”

“You do not have such records here in a storage room?” Justin asked. Justin had agreements with a handful of nice hotels in the city. They would send their patrons to his gaming hell and he would always recommend their establishments for visiting guests. He knew how hotels were run, knew that most worth their salt kept records of their guests because they wanted repeat customers.

“No, I do not.”

Justin had every record ever documented at Rodale’s. Granted they’d been open less than ten years, still, one never knew if that information would be needed in the future. There was something in the man’s mannerisms that bothered Justin. He’d wager the man was hiding something.

“Thank you for your time,” he said, then he turned on his heel and retrieved the women.

Clarissa walked passed him back up to the desk. “Pardon me, Sir,” she said. “Are you telling me that you did not keep any of the records of previous guests?”

His lips pinched. “No, that is what I was telling your, friend,” he said deliberately, “and now what I am telling you.”

“Well, that simply makes no sense at all.”

“I believe I am the hotelier, not you, madam,” he said. “Now good day to all of you.”

The three of them did not speak until they were once again encased in the carriage.

“He was obviously lying,” Clarissa said boldly.

“I believe so too,” Justin said.

“One way to find out,” Ella said.

“And that is?” Justin asked.

“Lady Manchester, his cousin, it was her hotel. If she has the records, she would certainly allow you look at them,” Ella said, then she frowned. “I’m afraid she suffers from dementia though, so you’ll have to hope to catch her on a good day.”

“Perhaps today will be that good day,” Justin said. He knocked on the carriage ceiling and they stopped. He stepped out, gave the driver the address Ella rattled off for Lady Manchester’s and then they were off again.

“I have met Lady Manchester before,” Ella said. “So I suppose I shall be the one to introduce the two of you. I do hope she finds that good enough.”

“It will have to be. We need to speak with her,” Clarissa said.

Not a quarter of an hour later the three of them waited in Lady Manchester’s parlor. Unlike the hotel bearing her name, this room spoke of more immediate wealth. Justin sat in the only wooden, non-upholstered chair in the room while his wife huddled closely next to her friend on the settee. When the door opened, the three of them stood.

The lady walked in without the assistance of anyone and seemed completely capable, but a woman followed closely behind her. Once Lady Manchester sat, the other woman promptly wrapped her lap in a blanket, then went to stand behind the woman’s chair.

“It’s so rare that I get visitors these days,” Lady Manchester said.

“Lady Manchester, I’m not certain if you remember me, I’m Ella Atkins. I believe you know my mother, Lady Weaver. These are two of my friends, Mr. and Mrs. Justin Rodale. They’d like to ask you a few questions.”

The woman nodded, then looked up to see her guests. Her breath caught when she looked at Justin. “Gracious, you look just like her,” she said.

“Who?”

“Simone,” she said, then shook her head. “I cannot remember the girl’s full name.”

Simone. Was his mother’s name Simone?

“We’d like to ask you a few questions about Manchester House,” he said.

“Thieving bastard took that property right from under my nose, he did,” Lady Manchester said with a frown. The woman behind her put a hand on her ladyship’s shoulder. “Don’t pat me to calm me, Sally, I speak the truth.” She shooed away the woman’s hand.

“Your cousin?” Clarissa asked.

“Yes, nasty little man. I bequeathed the entire hotel to my niece, Charlotte, and her husband, but somehow Winston got it put in his name.” She shook her head. “I’ll never understand it.”

“But you owned it and ran it in the 40s?”

She met his gaze again and nodded. “Yes. I simply cannot get over how much you favor Simone.”

“Did you keep records of your guests during that time?”

“Primarily the time when you had all the families from France stay with you during the Season,” Clarissa added.

“Of course, I kept impeccable records,” Lady Manchester said. “My father always told me that you never put anything of importance in the rubbish.”

“Do you have them?” Clarissa asked. “The records?”

“Of course not, they’re at the hotel. In the basement, precisely right where I left them. A record of every guest and every room they stayed in as well as every pence they spent. I kept meticulous records.”

“When we visited there earlier today, your cousin claimed that you had taken all the records with you,” Clarissa said.

“Why would I do a silly thing like that?” She pointed a crooked finger at Clarissa. “That man is nothing but a lying fool. Unless he’s put everything in the rubbish, then it should all still be there.”

“This Simone you speak of,” Justin said. “Did you know her well?”

Lady Manchester smiled warmly. “I did, she was a wonderful girl, so full of life and love.”

“Did she find love here?”

“She did, but it was not to be. Her family had already arranged a marriage between her and a wealthy Frenchman. She left here quite heartbroken,” Lady Manchester said. A wistfulness filled her expression. “She was so very pretty.” She looked up at Justin. “You look like her, you know.”

“Thank you, my lady,” he said, “for your time and your information.”

There was only one thing to do now. He had to break into Manchester House to sneak a peek at those records.