A Little Bit Sinful

chapter Two


Justin stood at the large window overlooking the gaming hell floor. Rodale’s was full tonight. The card tables were full, as were the dice tables. Over in the far left corner a group of men huddled, cheering and passing the wager book around. At that moment Clipps, Rodale’s assistant manager, stepped into the office.

“What has them so riled up tonight?” Justin asked.

“It would seem that Wilbanks fellow’s father has made a decree that he must marry before the viscount dies. So they’re making wagers on which chit he’ll choose.”

George Wilbanks. The same man Clarissa Kincaid had offered to pay off the debts only two months before, debts that hadn’t even existed. Justin needed to get a look at that wager book, see if Chrissy’s name was on the list. He’d wait until the excitement died down and then go take a peek.

A half an hour later Justin made his way downstairs to check out the wager book. It was filled with all manners of wagers, from what sex Lord Fairfield’s new child would be to whether or not Fiona Miller would ever agree to one of the many proposals she’d received. And then Justin came to the page regarding George Wilbanks’s situation. There was a list of girls, seven of them, and by each name there were stakes and odds, numbers, and projections.

Clarissa’s name was, in fact, on there and she and one other girl were leading in the group. The two most expected to garner marriage proposals from Wilbanks. Justin knew that the entitled made wagers on everything, and among their favorite involved who would marry whom. But he’d never really paid much attention to it. Seemed a silly pastime to him.

Then again, Clarissa Kincaid had never made it on anyone’s list. Justin might not be able to do anything about the wagering, but he could see what he could do to ensure Clarissa didn’t find herself married to the lying ass.

…

The following night Clarissa attended the new exhibit at the Royal Academy of Music Museum. Aunt Maureen had already found a bench to sit upon with a friend of hers so they could “chat instead of milling about in the crowds,” as she’d put it. But Clarissa was eager to see the exhibit, especially the original manuscripts from Beethoven.

Despite the fact that she knew George would not be in attendance,—he had never been much for museums—she had donned her new pink gown. She couldn’t help but wonder where he would go this evening and with whom. Sabrina Richmond had said she’d heard that George had gone riding with Maryann Fields. On more than one occasion. Clarissa knew he danced with other women, but he’d always told her it was to keep up appearances until the time came for him to become engaged. But Maryann Fields was very pretty, and the whole notion of George spending time with her made her uneasy.

As she began walking through the exhibit, she saw several people she knew, but they seemed more interested in gossip than the items up for viewing. She smiled and waved and spoke when necessary, but she kept moving forward. The first thing she came to was the violin collection. The glass case displayed violins across the years, the intricate wood carvings so ornate on some and others plain. She’d never tried to play any other instruments, preferring the piano above all else. But were she to try another, the violin would be the one.

“Good evening, Chrissy,” Justin Rodale’s voice came from behind her.

She looked into the reflection of the glass and saw his tall form behind her. She turned around to face him and had to swallow hard. He looked so very dashing wearing all black except for the bright white of his cravat at his throat. His unfashionably long hair had been pulled to the back and tied in a ribbon at his neck. It had been a couple of months since she’d seen him and he looked devastatingly handsome.

“You look like a pirate,” she said dumbly. Splendid. If Ella were here, she’d eat her hat.

He grinned, one eyebrow sliding up. “Is that a compliment?”

“I’m not certain,” she said honestly. “Your hair is unfashionably long.”

“I like it that way.”

She nearly agreed with him, but stopped herself. What was the matter with her? She didn’t approve of his hair. Proper ladies did not find men with long hair appealing. What was he doing here?

“Allow me to escort you through the exhibit,” he said offering her his arm.

She eyed him for a moment, then her curiosity got the better of her and she accepted the invitation.

“You look beautiful in that color,” he said.

“Thank you. I bought this dress recently on a shopping trip with Ella. She insisted I purchase the fabric, said a gown in this color would highlight my complexion.” She just repeated what he’d said. She wasn’t normally such a goose. In an effort to reclaim her intelligence, she focused on the exhibit. They were walking into the piano room, her favorite place in all of London and she told him as much.

“Do you play?”

“Yes,” she said, tempering her response. Rebecca had told her years ago to watch herself carefully when she spoke of music as she had a tendency to become overly excited about the subject. “I am quite fond of playing.”

He eyed her for a moment before asking. “Have you seen Mr. Wilbanks lately?”

“I saw him last night, but he does not care for museums so he is not attending.” She hoped that once they were married he would change his opinion of them, attend a few with her as she favored them quite a bit. She stopped walking and looked at him. “Justin, what are you doing here tonight?”

“My mother always loved music. She brought me here when I was a boy.” He walked forward. “Also, I suspected you might be here.”

She wanted to ask about his mother, but his admission intrigued her. “Why did you think I would be here?” They stood in front of a small Viennese piano. The keys were worn and chipped, but she longed to put her fingers upon them to hear the sweet notes.

“First you must answer a question for me.” He waited until she nodded in concession. “Why is it that you are so intent on marrying George? Has he made declarations that he intends to propose?”

“Not in so many words, but he has insinuated as much.” It had been two months since she’d seen or spoken to Justin, why would he seek her out with these questions about George? Perhaps he had discovered that George did, in fact, owe Rodale’s money. “And we are a good match,” she added with a nod.

“Someone told you that?”

She nodded again to answer his question, but kept her focus on the piano, the polished wood, the strings.

“Who?”

“People,” she said dismissively.

“Your dear friend, what is her name again?”

“Ella and no.” She shook her head. “Ella is not very fond of George.” She nearly chuckled. That was putting it mildly. Ella did not like George at all. “He has been good friends with her brother for years. Much in the way you were with Marcus. She grew up around George so she finds him annoying, I suppose.”

“Do you find me annoying?” he asked with raised brows.

She smiled. “Not at the moment.”

“If not Ella, who was it that told you that George would be a good fit for you?”

“Why are you so curious?” She eyed him for a moment. “It seems you came here to tell me something yet all you’ve done is ask me questions. Why the sudden interest in my relationship with George?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know. Seems to me that someone important must have told you that once upon a time. I don’t think he’s a particularly good match for you so I’m curious as to why you do. Especially since it seems he hasn’t progressed your relationships beyond weekly walks in the park and an occasional dance at a ball.”

She stopped walking and looked at him. “How do you know that?”

“I’ve asked some questions. After he lied to you about owing me money, I made some inquires. I don’t care for people associating me in their lies. I’ve been watching Mr. Wilbanks and his behavior at Rodale’s. He still doesn’t owe me any money, Chrissy. The man is a liar.”

She supposed she couldn’t blame him for looking into matters. In truth, George’s lie bothered her as well, but she had to give him the benefit of the doubt. Certainly George had his reasons for telling her such things. Nevertheless, she didn’t appreciate being on the other end of his lie either. “If I answer this question, will you tell me why you came looking for me tonight?”

“Yes.”

“It was Rebecca.”

“Charles’s wife?”

“I wouldn’t think you would remember her,” she said with a smile. “Yes, she was like a mother to me, and shortly before she fell ill, we were at a party. It was my first Season and she was trying to teach me all about how to find the right sort of husband. She pointed out George, said he was handsome, polite, and he stood to inherit a title.”

“Did she point any other men out that night?”

She considered for a moment, trying to bring that night to the front of her memory. Rebecca had always been so wise. Clarissa trusted her judgment above all others. “Well, yes, but I suspect she knew something about George. Could see it in his eyes perhaps. That’s what she used to say about Charles. That’s how she knew she would marry him. She could see it in his eyes.”

Justin was quiet a few moments as they looked at the pair of harpsichords in front of them.

“Are you going to answer my question now?” she asked.

“I went to your townhome and your butler said this is where I could find you. So I came here.”

“But why?”

“To see you. Is that not enough?”

She wanted to tell him that no, in fact, that was not enough, but she was too flustered to inquire further. She fell quiet again as they walked the room. They continued on until they reached the Beethoven manuscript. She stopped and stared at the parchment. The hand scrawled notes, the words beneath. The music played in her head, her hands tapped against her skirts, hitting each key perfectly. She sighed. What must it be like to have music inside of you in such a way?

They had reached the last exhibit hall. Several people poured in behind them, one of whom was a notorious gossip, the very lady who had told everyone about Clarissa’s late night visit to Justin’s gaming hell.

“Oh no,” Clarissa said. Even though the “scandal” had been smoothed over, Clarissa was in no mood to speak to the old bitty.

“What?”

“Lady Jessup.” She looked around them and saw that the end of the manuscript room was a short and darkened corridor that led to a door. She grabbed Justin’s hand and pulled him quickly into the darkness. She pressed herself against the wall and pulled him to her, effectively hiding her body.

“Who is Lady Jessup?” he whispered.

“Her husband is the one who saw me at Rodale’s,” Clarissa explained. “If she sees me,” she shook her head. “I panicked, I merely didn’t wish to speak to her.”

“I believe you’ve put yourself in an even worse situation. If you’re discovered here hiding in the dark with me, you’ll certainly be ruined,” he said with a devilish grin.

She popped him on the arm. “Stop enjoying this. It’s quite serious.”

“The only way you’ll be ruined is if someone sees your face.”

“Well, I can’t very well hide my face.” She tried to look out into the exhibit hall to see if the woman was still there, but they were so far into the darkened corridor, she couldn’t see.

“No, but I can.” He leaned down and kissed her.

His lips were softer than she was anticipating. His hand cradled her neck, and for the briefest of moments, Clarissa forgot everything. Forgot who she was, who she was supposed to be, and most certainly where they were. Instead, she focused on the brush of his lips against hers, the tender way he held her. Her eyes fluttered closed and she clutched her hands to his arms.

He deepened the kiss and she slid her arms up around his neck, perfectly contented to be kissing here in this darkened corridor without a notion of who could be watching them.

The voices in the exhibit area faded and Justin pulled back. “I think everyone has left that hall,” he said.

Clarissa blinked up at him. “Thank you.”

He grinned. “You need not thank me for that.”

…

Good heavens.

Now as she and Aunt Maureen sat in the carriage traveling home, Clarissa’s knees were still a bit shaky from Justin’s kiss. Maureen was rattling on about something that had occurred at the museum, but all Clarissa could think about was that kiss. Luckily no one had seen them. The room had been completely empty when they’d stepped out of the darkened corridor. Still, the thought of being caught in Justin’s arms shot a thrill of excitement though her body.

Her lips still tingled. She brought a finger to them, but they didn’t feel any different to the touch. Did they, perhaps, appear different? She smiled at her aunt, but the woman didn’t seem to notice, merely continued talking.

She still didn’t know why Justin had sought her out tonight let alone what had made him kiss her. She had never even considered that he might be tempted to do such a thing. George certainly never had. Nor had any other gentleman. Well, except for Harry Parsons, but they’d been all of seven at the time and he’d mostly just mashed his lips upon hers. It hadn’t been exciting for either of them and they’d agreed on the spot to never do such a thing again.

“Clarissa, dear, did you hear me?” Aunt Maureen said.

“What?” Clarissa looked up and across the carriage to her aunt. The inside lantern lit the space and illuminated the older woman’s face. She looked at Clarissa expectantly. “No, my apologies, Aunt Maureen, I’m afraid my mind was elsewhere. It was such an exhilarating exhibit. What did you say?”

Maureen’s features softened. “I’m glad you enjoyed the exhibit, dear. Was the manuscript as magnificent as you expected?”

It had been and yet Beethoven’s creation paled in comparison to Justin’s kiss. “Indeed,” was all Clarissa could manage.

“Very good. As I was saying your brother and Miss March, well, I suppose I cannot call her that now that they’re married. They’re coming home tomorrow. We’ll be hosting a small dinner party upon their return.”

“That should be nice,” Clarissa said.

The kiss aside, it had been quite fortuitous seeing Justin tonight. His presence had solved one of her problems. She’d been wondering who could assist her in her charade as Mr. Bembridge and then the perfect answer had nearly fallen in her lap, as it were.

Justin Rodale.

He was a man known in social circles, even accepted, for the most part. He certainly didn’t owe her any favors, but she knew she could trust him. It appeared it was once again time to pay him a visit. This time though she’d avoid any would-be scandals by not going to his gaming hell, she’d go directly to his house.

…

The mantle clock chimed midnight and Justin looked up for the first time in two hours. He stood, stretched his back, and walked the length of his office twice. He’d been going over the quarterly records for Rodale’s since he had returned from the museum, and it would seem they had increased profits for the ninth quarter in a row. To say Rodale’s was doing well was a significant understatement. He smiled. Would that his arse of a father been alive to see his success.

It had taken him some significant concentration to get his mind on the books tonight. After the kiss he’d shared with Chrissy in the museum, he couldn’t get her off his mind. He kept hearing her words again and again, “thank you.” He’d never had a woman thank him for kissing her before.

He definitely intended to kiss her again, until she told him to stop.

There was a pounding as someone slammed the knocker into his front door. Justin glanced at the clock again, quite late for a visitor and he couldn’t recall expecting anyone. Perhaps it was his brother. Roe kept mostly nighttime hours, seeming to prefer moving about the world in the darkness. Justin’s butler knocked on the study door, then opened it. “Lady Clarissa here to see you.”

She entered wearing a dark cloak, the hood covering her facial features. She swept it back off her head and smiled. “Hello, Justin.”

“Chrissy. This is a surprise.” Justin nodded to the butler who turned and left the room. “Twice in one night, to what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Can I not simply come for a visit?”

“No, you would not do such a thing. Not after the last time you came to see me. Quite the trouble you caused.” He clicked his tongue. “Come in and sit.”

She came out of her cloak and laid it against one of the leather chairs, then sat in the one opposite. “Well, now that you’ve been established as a dear friend of the family, perhaps it’s not too scandalizing. But you see right through me. I came because I need a favor.”

She still wore that pink confection she’d had on earlier. Pretty, feminine, and so damned tempting. Though he had seen her a handful of times now, he still was not quite used to Clarissa as a woman. He still remembered how she’d looked as a thin girl of fifteen. Now, though, the only hint of the young girl he’d known had been her eyes. You never forgot eyes that blue. Gone were the gangly arms and legs, and in their place was a woman full of delicious curves. “More debts to pay off?”

“Not exactly.”

He’d asked about George earlier that evening to see if the man had been progressing their relationship, it did not seem as if he were. Still Justin wanted to remind Clarissa of George’s poorer qualities so that she might change her mind about marrying him.

“Did you ever find out the truth from Mr. Wilbanks? Why he’d lied about owing me money?”

“I never inquired. It didn’t seem important.”

He could tell by the flicker in her jaw that that wasn’t the precise truth, but he merely nodded.

“No, this isn’t about George at all, but a different matter. It would seem that my dearest friend Ella, well, her father, has made a series of poor investments and is need of some assistance.”

Justin frowned. “You wish me to loan him money?”

“No, of course not. Were it that simple, we could loan them the necessary funds.” She took a deep breath. “What I am about to tell you cannot leave this room. Can I trust you with my secret?” she asked, her blue eyes pierced into his.

It was on his tongue to tell her that she could trust him with anything. Anything save perhaps her virtue, as she was looking increasingly more fetching by the moment in that gown with its plunging neckline that left little to his imagination regarding her breasts. Her pale blond hair was piled intricately on her head in a display of curls and jeweled pins. “How did you get here?” he asked.

“I hired a hack. You didn’t answer my question.”

“Yes, you can trust me,” he said. He sat, realizing he was most eager for what secret she was about to share. He’d known Chrissy since she was but a girl. He’d been schoolmates with her older brother, and Justin had spent many days over at the Kincaid family estate. But it wasn’t until she’d come back into his life a couple months before that’d he’d realized what a fine and beautiful woman she’d become. He’d done his part then to ensure her reputation hadn’t been irreparably damaged before he’d gone back to his days and nights at Rodale’s. He’d missed her though, these past two months. Missed her lovely face and her intoxicating eyes. He couldn’t deny that it had been part of why he’d decided to seek her out tonight at the museum. He could simply take the matter regarding George to Clarissa’s brother, but instead Justin opted to see if he couldn’t persuade her on his own. There were certain techniques he could use to get her mind off George Wilbanks.

And he couldn’t deny that kissing her proved to quite enjoyable for him as well. Before they could get to any more kissing, though, she had come here for a reason. At the moment she sat looking up at him expectedly.

“What is this secret you have, Chrissy?”

“Alright, I’m going to simply start talking so I can get all of this out before I lose my nerve. Before Marcus came home, we, Aunt Maureen and I, were struggling to deal with who had been, up until that point, our family’s solicitor. He refused to have any dealings with either one of us and there was no way to know when or if Marcus would return.” She let out a puff of air. “In a moment of desperation and haste I posed as a new solicitor, hired myself, so to speak, and have been managing the family coffers since then.” She eyed him cautiously.

Well, that, he had not expected. “Are you telling me that you have been posing as a solicitor and making financial investments and the like for the entire Kincaid estate?”

Her chin bumped up a notch. “Indeed, I have.”

“And?”

“And what?”

“How have you done?”

“Quite well. It would seem that my mind is given to such matters.” She smiled broadly. “And I do enjoy it, as unladylike as that might be. ’Tis why this must be a secret. Obviously such news would ruin me for certain.”

He nodded. “Yes, we mustn’t allow them to know that you have a fully functioning mind. Now, then, what is it you would like me to do with said secret?”

“As I mentioned before, Ella’s family is in a bit of a situation. She asked me if I would refer our family solicitor to her father.”

“She does not know the truth?”

“No, I couldn’t afford to confide in her. It was bad enough that Aunt Maureen knew the truth.”

He knew the girls were quite close and the fact that Clarissa was here seeking his assistance with her secret and not her dearest friend gave him pause. “You want me to pose as this solicitor?”

“Heaven’s no, people know you. No, I would merely like for you to pose as another client, so to speak, make a recommendation to her father. Everyone knows you’ve done exceptionally well with your gaming establishment. Your finances are all in order, are they not?”

“My coffers are quite full if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Yes, then I’m certain her father would trust your recommendation.”

“And what am I to tell him of this solicitor? Why does this Mr.—?”

“Bembridge. Mr. Ignatius F. Bembridge, LLB,”

He raised one eyebrow. “That’s quite a name, you couldn’t think of anything more subtle?”

She waved her hand dismissively. “Mr. Bembridge is horribly shy, prefers to do all of his correspondence through the post and telegraph. He doesn’t get out much, you see,” she said.

“No, of course he doesn’t. And once you are secured as Ella’s family’s new solicitor, you will simply be making wiser investments for them?”

“Precisely.”

“And what if your investments fail?”

She opened her mouth, then closed it. Her brow furrowed in a frown. “I had not considered such a notion. I’ve had such great success with my own investments. I suppose I could give them some of our surplus.”

“Interesting thought. You’ve had some good fortune, you have made wise choices, but I have been doing this longer, another set of eyes to be certain. Since this is the first time you’ll be using someone else’s money. How about you allow me to provide you with a second opinion on their investments?”

She thought for a moment. “I suppose that makes sense.” She came to her feet. “So you will do it?”

“Yes, I will meet with her father.” He stepped toward her. “On one condition.”

“Which is?”

“Another kiss.”

Her eyes widened and her breath caught. She brought her hand to her chest. “You would like to kiss me again?”

He wanted to kiss her again and again until she was dizzy from it. “Consider it payment for my favor. And for keeping your secret, as it were. You don’t want to be beholden to me, do you, Chrissy?”

She bit down on her lip.

He traced one finger down the side of her face, then moved it across her bottom lip. “Tell me, why would you want to hide the passionate woman you truly are, the woman you hide beneath all the propriety.” His finger trailed down her throat.

She swallowed. “I’m not hiding behind anything.”

Her pulse flickered beneath his touch and her breath came in short gasps.

“I swear, I’m a perfectly ordinary woman. Dull, really.”

He chuckled. He placed feather-light kisses on her neck. “You, dear Chrissy, are anything but ordinary.”

She leaned into his touch.

It was all the invitation he needed. He tilted up her chin and slashed his mouth across her. He didn’t ease her into the kiss, but allowed his passion to devour her. Her hands gripped his shoulders. She met him with as much fervor as he delivered.

She wanted him.

That thought sent blood rushing to his groin. He’d never wanted a woman to want him as much as he did tonight.

Their tongues molded, stroked, grazed. Her passion was intoxicating. He wanted to pick her up, press her against the wall. Have her wrap her legs around him, but he stood his ground, merely holding her face as he kissed her deeply.

God he wanted her. And she wanted him. He let his mouth trail down the column of her milky throat. He wanted to touch her everywhere. Reach into her bodice, cup her breasts, feel her nipples harden against his palm.

He forced himself to step away from her. He couldn’t have her, not really. She was far too good for him. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t enjoy kissing her. Perhaps in doing so he’d change her mind about marrying George Wilbanks.