A Little Bit Sinful

chapter Five


That evening Clarissa had asked George to take her on a walk to see the famed Brookfield gardens. He’d been somewhat reluctant, but she told him that her brother was otherwise occupied and she certainly couldn’t walk there alone, so he’d agreed. As they walked quietly beside one another now Clarissa felt the nerves intensify in her stomach. She took a deep breath. She could do this. In all truth, her reputation should already be in tatters, so whatever happened tonight shouldn’t make her anxious at all. And now she had some experience. She’d kissed Justin. Twice. Certainly that counted for something.

“The weather is mild this evening,” George said.

“Yes. It’s rather nice, almost like springtime.”

They wove into the gardens that weren’t quite a maze, but were windier than a typical garden. And were she here to truly enjoy the botanicals, she would have been impressed. The garden was spectacular. The sweet scent of lilac wafted through the air. There must have been thousands of candles that lit the area around the garden, making it look more like the hideaway of a fairies rather than a garden in the midst of London. There was a slight chill in the air, and the breeze ruffled across her bare arms leaving gooseflesh in its wake. They reached the area filled with several different types of roses. Pink, white, red and yellow, the small blooms surrounded Clarissa and George, the flowers’ heady scent floated on the evening breeze. These roses were said to be Lord Brookfield’s passion.

“It’s lovely,” she said.

“Indeed.”

“George. You know how favorably I see you.”

Favorably? That was how one spoke of their favorite soup, not the man they loved. She looked up into his handsome face. He still looked the same to her as he had always looked, yet something was different now. She knew that. But this was the man Rebecca had chosen for her, she certainly shouldn’t rely on her own choices. Those had almost always gotten her into trouble.

Ella had said George had not wanted to marry. George had told her, though, on more than one occasion, that if only he could marry her. He’d always said in a playful manner, which Clarissa had interpreted as genteel flirting. Had she misread his attention all this time?

His eyebrows rose and then he shook his head with a little grin.

She should say something else, but perhaps words weren’t the best indicator. She should kiss him.

Without thinking too much on the logistics of such an act, she went up on her tiptoes and kissed him. Her hands were splayed on his chest and her lips pressed against his. Initially, he didn’t react, didn’t kiss back, merely stood there. But then one arm slid around her waist, he pulled her abruptly to him and he kissed her, the way a man kissed a woman. The way Justin had kissed her.

Only something was different. Something was missing.

His lips were warm and there was definitely passion. Or perhaps urgency. He pressed himself against her. Something in the kiss shifted. She’d lost control and now George was kissing her. Really and truly kissing her. She should be pleased, but instead she felt something alarmingly akin to panic.

She pushed at his chest and took a step back. She was clearly not accomplished enough to feign worldliness.

His eyes had darkened and he merely stared at her. “Clarissa, my apologies. I don’t know what came over me,” he said. Then he turned and walked away.

Well, that hadn’t gone at all the way it was supposed to. And now she was left alone in the garden. Why had the kiss felt so different than Justin’s? Obviously she had done something horribly wrong.

…

Justin looked over at his brother who currently lined up his cue, then shot. The balls scattered across the table, two falling into pockets. Roe had shown up at Justin’s townhome earlier looking for a warm meal and a game of billiards before they both headed out to Rodale’s for the evening.

Roe looked up over the table. “Have you considered finding a woman to court while you’re out and about, milling with Society, as it were?” He shot again, this time he missed.

“Not particularly.” He nodded toward his brother. “I’m not the one who needs an heir.”

“A fact my mother reminds me of every time I see her,” Roe said. “She’s ready to be a grandmother.” Then he leveled a gaze at Justin. “Don’t think you won’t hear it from her too when she sees you next. She always has thought of you as her other son.”

“She’s a good woman,” Justin said.

“I still think it could be entertaining if you ruffled some feathers,” Roe said with a laugh.

Justin lined up his own cue. “It’s funny you should mention that.”

“Why is that?” Roe stood up straight.

Justin shot again. “The dinner at the Kincaid’s last night. Vivian approached me before I left and made me a most interesting proposition.”

“Sounds positively scandalous,” Roe said. It was his turn to shoot. “What did she ask?”

“I know you are aware of the type of work Vivian does for people. She was approached by a concerned mother whose daughter isn’t being courted. At all. Marcus suggested that all the girl needed was one suitor and it would give other men permission to pursue her. Do you think that’s true?”

Roe took another shot. He made a non-committal noise. “Perhaps. I can’t say that I ever take much note of what bloke is dancing with what chit.”

“You don’t attend many balls.”

“I attend plenty.” Roe set up the table for another game of billiards. “Two a month is about all I can stand. So are you going to do it?”

“Unlike Vivian, I’m unconvinced that my courting her will solve her problems. It’s likely to create new ones.”

Roe took a healthy sip of his brandy. “It sounds like a good way to bring attention to the girl, even if it merely angers people that you would dare court one of their darlings. I think Vivian’s right. You paying attention to the girl can only help her.”

“You know I’m not going to court some girl simply to irritate the powers that be,” Justin said.

“We should have traded places years ago,” Roe said.

…

Roe and Justin finished their game of billiards and were heading to the door, deciding to simply ride to Rodale’s together when Justin’s butler stepped into the room.

“Lady Clarissa is here to see you,” he said.

Roe waggled his eyebrows at Justin. And then Clarissa stepped into the room.

“Justin, I needed to—” she stopped short when she caught sight of Roe. “Oh your grace, I did not realize you were here. My apologies.”

“No need, Lady Clarissa.” Roe, in a rare show of chivalry, strode over to her and bent low over her hand for a moment before flashing her a smile. “I was on my way out. If you’ll excuse me.” He nodded to Justin with a wink, then left the room.

“I didn’t mean to intrude,” Clarissa said after Roe was out of earshot.

“You didn’t. That is a rather fetching gown.” The blue dress molded to her body, her décolletage was accented with fine white lace, but her cleavage was all he really noticed. He preferred looking at her rather magnificent cleavage. While far from being the only feature that contributed to her beauty—her eyes, for example, were an arresting shade of blue and her lush lips were equally enticing—her bosom was the one feature he could admire while pretending it wasn’t wholly inappropriate for him to do so. No, when he looked in her eyes—indeed anywhere in the region of her face—he couldn’t help but remember that Clarissa was not meant for the likes of him. “These visits of yours are becoming quite regular.”

“And you find that…irritating?”

“Quite the contrary. I rather enjoy your company.” He enjoyed it too much. That was the problem. Hiding a sigh, he crossed back to his decanter and poured himself a fresh glass of scotch.

“I wanted to let you know that I had received the letter of employment from Ella’s father. Thank you again.”

“You already thanked me for that.” He eyed her a moment noting the way she bit down on her bottom lip. Yes, it was much easier to simply admire her cleavage. He took a sizable gulp of the scotch. “Is there another reason why you came?”

She exhaled slowly, clenching her gloved fingers several times before blurting out, “What do you know of the wager involving George’s, well, his marital situation?”

He paused in the act of raising his glass to his lips again. “Who told you?”

“Ella. She overheard her brother and some other men talking about it.” She took a few steps further into the room, placed her hands on the back of a carved mahogany chair. “Obviously, you know about it since the betting is taking place in your establishment.”

He nodded, raised the glass the rest of the way to his mouth and downed it. “Are you angry?”

Her chin bumped up a notch and defiance flashed in her eyes. “Of course not. I know that gentlemen are fond of many kinds of wagers.” She hesitated then, and he noticed the way her fingertips strained against the wood where she gripped it. “I was told that I was not favored to be the bride.”

“It is generally between you and another woman.”

“Franny Cooper. I had not realized I had such stiff competition for George’s heart.”

“And you are still convinced you wish to win his heart?”

She shot him an odd look before giving her head a little shake. “You know I am. But how can I possibly win against a girl like her?”

“I have no notion of who she is.” Justin allowed his gaze to take in Clarissa’s figure before him. “I can assure you, though, there is no competition.”

Blush reddened her cheeks. “Franny is very worldly. At least that is what I’m told. And you know who she is, remember you met her at the Welbrook ball a couple months back. She was the tall one with the dark hair, very friendly.”

Justin scraped his memory and recalled the woman she spoke of. If it was the same one, she was very pretty, but held no real appeal for him compared to Clarissa.

“What do you suppose that means, her being worldly?”

Clarissa shrugged, her feminine shoulders pushed upwards ever so slightly. “She drinks brandy, perhaps curses, enjoys stolen kisses. I honestly couldn’t say.”

Justin smiled at her. “If only you knew how very charming you are. So you came to me for some brandy? I’m afraid you’ll be disappointed as I prefer scotch, but you’re welcomed to have a glass.”

Some of the tension went out of her shoulders at his teasing. “No, I was hoping you’d teach me to curse,” she said with a grin.

“Yes, an interesting choice in the scheme of worldly behavior.”

She laughed, then the smile faded and she shook her head.

“You shouldn’t try to be someone else to persuade George to marry you.” He moved to her, ran a hand down the bare skin exposed between her cap sleeve and elbow-length gloves.

“But you could teach me,” she said, her voice barely more than a whisper.

“Teach you what, precisely?”

“How to be more worldly, more, I don’t know, more sensual.” She bit her lip again and looked up at him.

“You are not concerned about your virtue?”

“Are you planning to ravish me?”

He gripped her arm, resisting the urge to do precisely that. She would never ask such a question if she had any idea the kinds of thoughts he’d been entertaining since she’d walked into the room. Thoughts of stripping off her lovely clothes and doing sinful things to her body. Of showing her all the sinful things she could do to his. He could take her three different ways on the rug alone. “Only if you want me to.”

“Perhaps merely some kissing.” Again a bite of her lip.

Only kissing? Ah, if only she knew how much latitude that gave him. He was ready to nibble his way around her body.

The thought was only too tempting. Unfortunately, she would then be ruined and he’d have disgraced the sister of one of the few men in London whose opinion he actually valued. No. That wouldn’t do at all.

“Tell me something,” he said. “Do you believe Miss Franny Cooper kisses a great deal of men?”

Her eyes widened slightly. “I don’t know, to be honest.”

“Why is it you believe her to be so worldly? Has she ruined her own reputation?”

“No, she hasn’t.” Clarissa gave her foot a little stamp, one that was barely visible beneath the hem of her gown. “That is precisely the issue. Miss Cooper’s reputation is intact. Above reproach even. And yet, somehow, she is courted by so many men. And they all seem enchanted by her.”

“If she is courted by many men, perhaps you have nothing to worry about.”

Clarissa seemed to consider the matter, but then she shook her head. “No. George is the most eligible of men. He is handsome, charming, titled. No girl would say no if he asked. Indeed, I am sure that merely knowing George is interested in her will convince Miss Cooper from even considering the attentions of other men.”

“Indeed. George is a lucky man.”

Lucky—that is—that he wasn’t there in the room with Justin at that moment, for Justin would have been sorely tempted to beat this dandy to a bloody pulp.

“So you believe George will propose to Miss Cooper merely because she is more worldly than you?”

“It is highly likely, yes.”

“I remember this Miss Cooper, I believe. You are far lovelier.”

However Clarissa merely waved away his complement. “Pretty words mean nothing in the face of Franny Cooper’s charms and experiences. The very fact that she’s been courted by so many men gives her an advantage I couldn’t hope to match.”

“But surely you have been courted by just as many men.”

In expression flickered across Clarissa’s face. One he couldn’t quite read. Surprise maybe, as if she had revealed something she didn’t mean to. Then she smiled too brightly and turned away from him, once again twisting her fingers into knots. “Why, yes. Of course. I’ve had many suitors. So many I barely remember their names.”

If it hadn’t been for that flicker of emotion, he might have accepted her words at face value. However, her obvious discomfort made it all too easy to question her explanation. He had assumed that a girl as lovely as Clarissa would have plenty of suitors, but what if he was wrong? After all, she had lost several family members when she was younger, not long after she would have had her coming out, if he was not mistaken. She would have been in mourning for a full year after the death of her sister-in-law. Add in more time for her brother’s death, and she simply hadn’t had much opportunity to be courted.

“Clarissa,” he coaxed.

“Very well.” She spun back around, her eyes flashing with chagrin. “I’ve had only one serious suitor other than George. His name was Christopher and I was enchanted by him, thought for certain I would marry him. He did not turn out to be the man I thought him to be. Rebecca hadn’t liked him from the beginning, had warned me not to trust him, but I hadn’t listened. It was all very long ago. So do you see? Do you understand now why I am so worried George might have his head turned by Miss Cooper?”

Indeed he did. Then again, he had understood all along that George was not the sort of man for Clarissa. The man was not the gentleman she believed him to be. However, he couldn’t bring himself to disillusion her, not when she had come to him for help. Not when she was so clearly—and adorably—worried.

“Let’s discuss courtship. Perhaps if you are a bit more comfortable being wooed you will not worry so.”

Her eyes widened. “You intend to court me?”

He waited for her to have a more telling reaction. Would she be accepting of such a gesture from him? He doubted it. But if he could busy her, occupy her mind enough that perhaps George did decide to propose to Franny Cooper, then Justin would feel as if he’d done his duty to Clarissa. And done it without devouring her body. “No, I meant only that we could set up scenarios.”

“Oh, like in a play?”

“Precisely.” He took her hand and pulled her over to the settee near the fireplace. “What do men do these days to court women?”

“A myriad of things. Picnics, walk in the park, rides in the park, poetry—”

“Poetry. Yes, that is somewhere to start. Now would this be poems that the gentleman himself wrote? For instance, I could compare your fair hair to that of freshly pulled wheat. Then I could liken your lovely complexion to the finest quality alabaster. Your eyes, though, those would be far more difficult. The color is so very unique, not quite the color of the sky on a bright spring day, nor the color of the ocean off of Plymouth’s coast. It is rather like a color that only an artist could create by blending and mixing the most beautiful shades of blue.”

The expression on Clarissa’s face filled with surprise and something sharply akin to awe. He simultaneously wanted to embrace her and chuckle. “Or perhaps it’s more that they quote other famous poets.

‘Let me not to the marriage of true minds

Admit impediments. Love is not love

Which alters when it alteration finds,

Or bends with the remover to remove:

O no! it is an ever-fixed mark

That looks on tempests and is never shaken;

It is the star to every wandering bark,

Whose worth’s unknown, although his height be taken.

Love’s not Time’s fool, though rosy lips and cheeks

Within his bending sickle’s compass come:

Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,

But bears it out even to the edge of doom.

If this be error and upon me proved,

I never writ, nor no man ever loved.’

“Shakespeare,” she whispered. “Sonnet 116. It’s one of my favorites.”

“Has George ever recited poetry for you?”

“Heaven’s no.” She waved her hand dismissively. “I’m not even certain George knows any poetry. Well, I mean obviously he would have been educated in the verse as you were, but he seems to favor other types of entertainment.”

“Were I to court you, I would recite such verses, though I would have to insist you not relay my secret to anyone. A man has to keep up his reputation, you see, and a gaming hell owner who recites Shakespeare is unacceptable at best.”

Her lips twitched in a smile. “Your secret is safe with me. That is, if you were courting me.”

“Which I am not.”

“Of course not.” She was quiet for a moment. “But if you were, what else, besides poetry, how else would you woo me?”

“Riding in the park is nice, but I’d prefer someplace a little more intimate, more private.”

Her eyebrows rose. “Is that so?”

“Indeed. For instance, people would be shocked and scandalized if I kissed you in the middle of Hyde Park, or say in the middle of a waltz at Lord Abernathy’s estate.”

“Oh my goodness.” She leaned in a little closer, and it was all the encouragement he needed.

With one arm, he pulled her closer then dropped his mouth to hers. It was a kiss meant to show her what she could have outside of a marriage with George. A kiss meant to show her she was desirable just as she was, not some enhanced version of herself. But the instant his lips touched hers, he forgot all about his intentions.

Her lips were soft and pliant beneath his. With only a tiny amount of coaxing, he was able to open her mouth and explore inside. Her warm breath mingled with his.

God, she felt so good, tasted so sweet. He deepened the kiss and felt her fingers lace through his hair. Her tongue moved against his, fueling his arousal. Damnation, but he wanted her. Right here, right now on the floor of his billiard room. Or better yet, up against the billiards table.

He fought the urge to groan and forced himself to end the kiss.

Her eyes remained closed, and her breath came in shallow puffs. Then she opened her eyes and smiled at him. “I suspect your manner of courtship would be quite effective.”

…

In the carriage back to her townhome Clarissa replayed the two kisses she’d received that evening. The one with George, she’d instigated, but then somehow had lost control of and it had been an utter disaster. A rather unpleasant disaster at that. There was nothing particularly wrong with George’s kiss; his technique had been different than Justin’s, but still a passionate kiss. And yet she’d felt nothing. Well, nothing save panic to end it quickly.

Contrast to the one she’d received from Justin, which had affected her in both body and soul, it seemed. Of course it hadn’t hurt that he’d quoted her favorite poem. If she could only read one author and listen to one composer, it would be Shakespeare and Beethoven. They’d been her favorites since she’d been a girl. So to say she’d been ripe for the plucking, as it were, would be an understatement. She only wished she could contribute her entire reaction to Shakespeare. Unfortunately, she had begun to sink beneath Justin’s spell long before he’d brought out the poetry. She did not think of herself as a vain woman, but his compliments had turned her head and warmed her to the very core. No man had ever said such things to her. And even if one had, she doubted she would have believed him. However, it was different with Justin. He had a way of looking at a woman that made her believe he could see right to her very soul. And that what he saw there entranced him. It was heady stuff, being wooed by Justin Rodale.

Why was her reaction so very different from one man’s kiss to the other’s? It truly made no sense. Since she had romantic feelings for George, had planned to be his wife for the majority of her adult life, shouldn’t his kisses be the ones making her knees wobble? Shouldn’t his kiss be the one that caused such delicious sensations to coil through her body, teasing at her breasts, and ending up at the apex of her thighs?

Yet, it was Justin’s kiss that made her feel so alive, so full of lust and desire.