A Little Bit Sinful

chapter Seven


After he’d left the ball, Justin returned to Rodale’s. The gaming floor was still a little quiet, but people were beginning to arrive. He nodded to the few men gathered at a table playing baccarat, then made his way up the stairs to the offices. He had no sooner entered the room when Clipps cleared his throat.

“I have found out some information on that bloke you wanted me to look into.”

Justin sat and eyed his friend. “Spill it, man.”

“He frequents Rafferty’s.”

So Justin’s instinct had been correct. George had told Clarissa his debts were at Rodale’s because it was the most respectable hell. Rafferty’s was another gaming hell, perhaps equally as popular as Rodale’s, but in a very different part of town, down on the docks of the Thames. “And you’re certain?”

“Yes, I followed him myself. On two separate evenings he left here and went there. I spoke with a handful of workers there that knew him by name and said he came several nights a week. He has a penchant for fighting.”

“Boxing? Well, that explains why he isn’t playing here more often, if that’s his preference for wagering. Does he bet only or does he fight?”

“Oh, he fights. Inside the ring and out, evidently he has quite the temper. He’s quite good though, I’m told, doesn’t owe them money either,” Clipps said.

A temper. So the man liked plenty of women and he had a penchant for hitting things. Not a good combination, and most certainly not a good choice for Clarissa. Justin would never forgive himself it he stood by and allowed her to marry the man and then found out he hit her. He’d kill George Wilbanks himself if that happened. “Thank you, Clipps.” Frequenting Rafferty’s alone would have been enough to prove Wilbanks wasn’t the right man for her. That club had dedicated itself to serving the needs of those who preferred more risky methods of entertainment. “Did he accompany anyone there or did he go alone?” Justin asked.

“Alone, but it did not take him long to find companionship for the evening.”

This was the man that Clarissa said she intended to marry and he’d already lied to her about having debts. But why lie about money owed? Even if the man did prefer a gaming hell on the docks inhabited by opium addicts and high stake games.

Justin needed additional information. She deserved more than a man who would lie to her, let alone one would be unfaithful and strike her in anger.

“What do you want me to do now?” Clipps asked.

“Nothing. I’ll look into matters further.” He nodded to the ledger books on Clipps’s desk.

“How is he doing here?”

“Winning. When he plays. He doesn’t always play. He has a drink, makes a few wagers, and then slips out.”

Justin made a note to check the wager book before he left to see where Clarissa stood that day. If the bets were favoring her, then he would need to move quickly to dissuade her from her plan.

It sounded as if George Wilbanks did not prefer Rodale’s at all; he merely used it as a cover for him to enjoy Rafferty’s. Before Justin said anything to Clarissa, he needed to be certain. He would go there himself and see what Wilbanks was up to.

But first he wanted to see Clarissa again, try to talk some sense into her. He’d practically grown up in the Kincaid townhome and he still remembered all the ways to sneak in and out, methods he and Marcus had perfected as boys. He just hoped Clarissa’s bedchamber was still in the same spot.

…

Clarissa rolled over again, situating herself amidst the pillows and held the book up to see it in the glow from the lantern. She hated feeling so confused. Before Justin had come back into her life, she’d never once questioned whether or not George was the man for her. Rebecca had suggested him and Clarissa had spent the majority of her adult life pursuing that relationship.

And she knew she should trust Rebecca’a advice. Clarissa had not done well at all when she’d selected her first suitor. Christopher had broken her heart and nearly stolen all of her jewelry she had from her mother. He’d then moved on from her to another heiress and then another and finally had been shunned from Society. Last she heard he was living somewhere in Scotland. She had learned then that her choices weren’t always the best and it was better for her to trust someone else’s guidance, namely her sister-in-law’s.

Then Rebecca had died and left Clarissa with one last piece of advice—that’s the type of man you should marry. Since Rebecca was no longer around to give her other suggestions of the “type” Clarissa had simply stuck with George. Until Justin and his shocking words and delicious kisses and his reciting of Shakespeare, she’d been content to wait for George to propose. Now it seemed she didn’t have the luxury of waiting—she had competition.

She’d watched Franny Cooper tonight. The woman was so comfortable with men, easy with them, flirting appeared effortless and it never seemed she reserved those sweet smiles for only the wealthy handsome men; she treated all of them the same. Even the old, balding men, she would pat them on the arm with her fan and release one of her twittering laughs. Everyone liked her, men and women, old and young. She, it seemed, was the perfect lady.

Somehow Clarissa had fallen short yet again, and she hadn’t a clue how to fix it or how to change herself. She’d tried to seek out Justin to teach her to be more worldly, but that had only seemed to make her want him more than she already had.

There was a creak outside her door and she wondered if Aunt Maureen had roused for something, a drink perhaps. Clarissa sat up in bed, listening intently and then her door opened.

It was on her tongue to ask if Maureen felt all right, but then Clarissa realized who had entered her room.

“Justin? What the devil are you doing here?” She pulled the coverlet up her chest to try to cover herself. Her nightrail was not particularly revealing, but was certainly more flimsy than a day dress.

“I wanted to see you,” he said with a slight shrug of his shoulders. “Do you want me to leave?”

She couldn’t make herself say the word, so she merely shook her head. “How did you get in here?”

He grinned. “Not much has changed here.”

“I suppose that is true.” Her eyes traveled around her room and she caught sight of her dressing gown draped across her vanity chair. “Could you hand me that?” She pointed to it.

He retrieved it and brought it to her, then turned away from her without her having to ask. He was a bit of a contradiction at times. Seducing her with sinful kisses one day and behaving the gentleman the next. It was enough to make a girl’s head spin.

She crawled out of bed and in doing so she knocked her book to the floor. While he bent to pick it up, she pulled on her dressing gown.

“Shakespeare,” he said as he turned to face her.

“Yes, well, you reminded me that I had not read him in a while.” It wasn’t really the truth. This particular volume of his sonnets stayed next to her bed all the time, she read it almost daily. But she didn’t want Justin to know how much his wooing charade had affected her.

He came to stand in front of her. He leaned close, then around her to place the book on the bed behind her. He was so close she had a difficult time breathing, he smelled so good too, all masculine and clean and Justin. She resisted the urge to inhale deeply.

“What was it you wanted to see me about?”

He leaned in and put his nose beside her left ear and slowly inhaled. “You smell nice,” he said as if he’d read her mind.

Chills scattered all over Clarissa’s body and she felt her breasts tighten. Oh my. Had he come here to seduce her? Her pulse sped up as did her breathing. She wasn’t certain that if that was in fact his intention she had the strength to tell him no. She knew she didn’t want to.

He leaned even closer and she felt his warm breath on her neck. She closed her eyes just as he took her earlobe in his mouth and suckled it.

Desire coiled so quickly through her body, she feared she would melt into the plush rug beneath her feet. She turned her head ever so slightly and he grabbed her fiercely and pressed his lips to hers. His body molded against hers pressing her already sensitive breasts to his chest.

Kissing in nothing more than her night clothes was a different experience than doing so while fully clothed. At the moment she had no buffer between her breasts and his body other than the sheer fabric of her dressing gown and nightrail. As he kissed her, he pressed against her and with each slight movement, the fabric brushed against her aching nipples until she thought she’d go mad from it.

He pushed her back onto her bed and fell over her, all the while trailing searing kisses over her neck, collarbone and ears.

Oh, how she wanted him. Wanted whatever pleasure he could give her. She knew it was wrong. She knew it was improper, immoral even. But she also knew it was completely irresistible.

His lips met hers and his tongue tantalized her. Teasing, licking, stroking until she thought she would go mad. Their tongues stroked and played and shivers cascaded over her like delicious waterfalls of pleasure.

She felt his arousal push into her belly and she instinctively pushed against him.

His hand slid up her abdomen and cupped her right breast. Her back arched, and she felt her nipples harden. Good heavens, she’d never felt such sensations. He kneaded the sensitive flesh and the tingles between her legs intensified.

With a movement full of impatience, he slipped his hand beneath her dressing gown and stroked her aching nipple through the soft fabric of her nigthrail. His mouth left hers and blazed a trail to her ear, then down her throat and finally took the place of his hand. He kissed her breast through the fabric and she wanted to ask him to tear it off her, to touch her flesh, but she kept her mouth shut.

She bucked against him, wanting more, wanting release, wanting him.

“Oh, Justin.”

“I know what you want, love,” he said.

He dipped the fabric down, looked at her exposed breast for several breaths and then lowered his mouth to her. She plunged her fingers into his hair and did her best to not cry out so delicious were the pleasures he created.

“I want you,” she whispered, unable to keep the sentiment to herself any longer.

He swore, then rolled off her. He came to his feet and stepped away from her, his hands clenched at his sides. “Chrissy, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean…” He shook his head.

She covered herself back up and slowly came to her feet. “What’s the matter?”

“I can’t do this. Not with you.” Then he turned and slipped out the door.

Not with her? What did that mean? What was the matter with her? He had told her on more than occasion he found her beautiful. So why not her?

More importantly why did she need him to want her? He was certainly not a suitor and they were not going to marry, so why did it matter? The easy answer was because it felt good. She was obviously attracted to him and his touch did amazing things to her body.

She’d never before been touched or kissed in such a way, and though it might be horribly unladylike, she loved it, loved the desire coursing thick through her blood. It wasn’t merely the sensations, though, because deep down she knew those embraces wouldn’t be the same with just anyone.

It terrified her to examine the situation closer to discover the truth. She was playing a dangerous game, and if she kept at it, she knew she would lose.

…

What the hell had he been thinking? Justin chose to send his rig on the way and walk home, hoping the cool night air would chill away his residual desire. He’d almost taken her. She would have allowed him to, but he could not ask that of her. He’d marry her, but damned if that would ruin her life as she imagined it. Her late sister-in-law, Rebecca, had never cared for him. He’d known that when he was younger. She’d found him sullen, and though she’d never said anything, he always felt she thought his birth made him unfit to be so friendly with their family.

He needed to take more care where Chrissy was concerned. He could not afford to hurt her. He’d only intended to speak with her about George, tell her the truth about his behavior. Certainly she wouldn’t want to marry a man who enjoyed physically pounding on people. But she could only make that decision if he actually gave her the information instead of pawing at her like some randy schoolboy. Next time he saw her, he’d tell her the truth about George.

…

After much deliberation and a letter from Vivian again detailing how beneficial his assistance could be, Justin had agreed to court Miss Riverton. So it was that he found himself attending yet another ball only two days after the last one. This was becoming a disturbing pattern. It has also been the night he’d gone to see Chrissy and he knew he needed to talk to her, give her some explanation, but what would he say? He couldn’t tell her the truth.

That he wanted her for himself.

In the meantime, he’d keep his focus on Miss Riverton and hope that when it came time to speak to Clarissa, he found the right words. They were dancing now, he and Betsy, and she was a pleasant girl, if not a little overly verbose.

Justin could feel Clarissa’s eyes on him even as he twirled Miss Riverton around the ballroom floor. She was a sweet girl, though she chattered incessantly about horses. A fine species they were, and quite necessary for transportation, but he’d never had a particular affinity for the creatures. Perhaps her fascination with them was why other men had not been interested in courting her. Still, he had agreed to stand in as a suitor for her to get the attention of perhaps some other men.

“Miss Riverton,” he said.

She started at the sound of his voice. “I’m sorry I was going on again.” She gave him a weak smile. “I suppose I blather on when I get nervous.”

“First, you shouldn’t be nervous. I am merely a man. Also, one thing you should take note of with most men, they like to talk about themselves,” he said. “Do not change who you are for any man, the lot of them aren’t worth it, but perhaps take a breath every now and again to allow the man to get a word in.”

That earned him a bigger smile. “I suspect that is quite excellent advice, Mr. Rodale. Thank you. Would you like to talk about yourself?”

“No, my life is vastly boring,” he said, giving her a wink.

She laughed.

There was nothing wrong with Miss Riverton, he decided. She only needed the right man to take notice.

Appearing to court one of the Ton’s darlings was raising some eyebrows and ruffling some feathers. Judging by the way a certain woman was looking in his direction, some of those feathers belonged to Clarissa Kincaid.

After their dance, Justin escorted Betsy to the refreshment table and handed her a glass of lemonade. She smiled coyly and then he returned her to her mother who eyed him suspiciously. The girl could do worse than him. Yes, he was a bastard, but he had more money than most of the families in here. He wanted to remind her that she was the one who had sought Vivian’s assistance with her daughter, but he nodded to the woman and walked off.

Marcus walked over to Justin. “I see that my beloved wife has not retired as she suggested she might. When did she convince you to take on this little task?”

Justin smiled. “The other night at dinner. And then again in a letter. She’s quite persuasive. And good at what she does.”

“Yes, she is,” Marcus said without an ounce of irritation. “On both accounts. In truth, I’m glad people still seek her out. She risked everything revealing her past, and it’s nice that some people don’t seem bothered by it.”

“You weren’t,” Justin said.

Marcus shook his head. “No. We’ve all done things we aren’t proud of. Women are no different.”

Justin glanced at the room around them.

“What’s wrong with the chit?” Marcus asked.

“Who?”

“The Riverton girl,” Marcus said.

“Nothing. Well, she favors horses a little too much, can’t seem to stop talking about them. But she’s pleasant enough and obviously intelligent,” Justin said.

“There you go. Smart women intimidate the lot of them.” Marcus motioned to the crowd in front of them.

He was likely right. Plenty of men found a woman with opinions to be unconventional and mouthy. He’d found, though, that he actually preferred a woman with a mind of her own.

A specific woman.

Briefly he considered bringing his concerns about George to Marcus’s attention, but he knew if he did that Chrissy might not forgive him.

…

Clarissa had been watching Justin all evening. Dancing with Betsy Riverton, making her laugh, getting refreshment for her, behaving suspiciously as if he were courting the girl. But certainly that couldn’t be the truth. His attentions to the girl stung, Clarissa couldn’t deny that, especially in light of what had transpired between the two of them night before last.

She’d gone through scenarios in her mind again and again, trying to figure out how to ask him about what he’d meant.

Not with you.

There was nothing really to say. He didn’t want her, had obviously been kissing her before that to, what, entertain himself? She didn’t know. Ultimately she had decided that perhaps it was best to not mention the night in her bedchamber. Yet, she couldn’t make herself walk away from him. And seeing him dote on Betsy made that even more difficult.

Clarissa came up behind Justin and whispered, “Ask to take me on a walk.” Before he could turn around to face her, she walked off and met Aunt Maureen and Ella where they stood by the potted ferns. They were discussing the weather.

“It has been unusually warm for this time of year,” Ella said.

Justin walked up casually and smiled, greeting each of them. “Lady Clarissa, may I escort you on a walk?”

She gave him a smile. “Indeed. Thank you for asking.”

“I shall have her back in a few moments,” he added for Maureen’s sake. He took her arm and they walked out onto the balcony.

The night was chilly, but not so cold she’d require her cloak, but she was thankful this particular ball gown had sleeves that went to her elbows and her gloves covered the rest of her arms. His warmth surrounded her too, and she wanted to lean into him, but knew better of it.

They went to sit on a bench. The balcony was well lit and they were close enough to the opened French doors from the ballroom that they could still hear the music. Why not me, she wanted to ask, but didn’t, afraid of what his answer might be.

“I know what you’re doing,” she said instead.

“I beg your pardon?”

“With Betsy, you are trying to stir up trouble by appearing to court a lady.” She hoped she was right and that it wasn’t that he found Betsy Riverton irresistible. Not that she should care what he thought of other women, but certainly there were better choices out there. She couldn’t imagine cheerful Betsy being the recipient of one of his heated gazes or even still, one of his passionate kisses. Her face warmed.

He chuckled and she worried for a moment that he had read her thoughts. “Is that what I’m doing?”

“Of course, I am no fool.”

“You know I could never marry a woman from proper society,” he said.

His words sliced through her. She knew it was the truth, knew she could never marry him, yet hearing him admit it still bothered her. “No, of course not, you’re merely trying to raise some eyebrows.”

“Now, why would I want to stir up trouble?”

Good heavens but he looked so very dashing this evening. Every time the breeze blew by, she’d catch a whiff of his soap and shaving lotion. Things were going well between them. It had always been easy to be around Justin, there was no reason to think that one night would alter that. “Because you want to make them nervous. You want to worry them.”

He leaned over to her, nudged her a little with his body, then sat back straighter. “You believe me to be that transparent? Think you have it all figured out.”

She swallowed hard. “No, of course not,” she said hurriedly. “I only meant that I can certainly understand such a motive. People can be unkind.” And she meant that. If this town had treated her as poorly as they had him, she would want to turn them up on their ear.

“Indeed. So then if I were courting some woman to cause trouble, as you say, then you would approve of such actions?”

“Of the practice in general, yes, but I know Betsy and unfortunately you have selected the wrong girl.”

“I have?” He smiled at her, his eyes dropping to her lips. “I suppose you have another suggestion?”

Her heartbeat sped. Maybe he did still want her, despite what he’d said in her bedchamber. “I do. The way I see it, if you court any of these women, they will fall for you, be utterly seduced and entranced by your wicked good looks, and ultimately you will break their hearts.”

“Tragic,” he said.

“Precisely. None of them know you well enough to resist falling for you.”

“Because of my wicked good looks.”

She tried not to smile with him, but failed. “I am being quite serious.”

“My apologies, please continue.” He gave her a slight bow.

“What you should be doing is courting me.” She looked up at him.

Both of his eyebrows rose, then a smiled settled on his lips. “I’ll give you this, Chrissy, you never cease to surprise me. I did not see that coming.”

Frankly, it surprised her too that she’d thought it, let alone said it aloud. But she couldn’t let him know that so she quickly thought of an explanation. “It makes perfect sense. You get to do what you want, irritate the entitled, but you need not worry about breaking my heart.”

“Because you are not seduced by my wicked good looks.”

“Precisely.” Lie, lie, lie. His wicked good looks were the problem entirely. Well, perhaps not entirely, there was the matter of those intoxicating kisses…

“Your logic is intriguing, I shall grant you that.”

“Do you agree?”

“I’ll consider your proposal.”

Not with you. She schooled her features to ensure her disappointment wouldn’t show.

“I do have a question, though,” he said. “Won’t my courting you cause problems between you and George?”

This is what she got for speaking before clearly thinking something through. This was what Rebecca had always warned her about, her impetuous nature. She’d seen Justin dancing with Betsy and had wanted to speak to him and then out popped that suggestion. But now that she considered it, perhaps a feigned courtship would be precisely what George needed to jump into action. And he certainly wasn’t keeping himself all to her; he had Franny Cooper and who knew what other lady hanging on the line waiting for him. “A little jealousy never hurt anyone.”

He chuckled again. “Ah, Chrissy, I have missed you.”

His words warmed her. Had he thought of her all these years? She had thought of him in passing, but had assumed that she’d never see him again. It had seemed a good thing at the time since Rebecca had thought him to be the wrong sort of boy to befriend Marcus.

“I do have a confession though,” he said.

“Which is?”

He leaned close enough to her ear. “I’m not truly courting Miss Riverton.”

“Yes, I know, that’s what I was saying.”

“No, you misunderstand.” He sat straight again. “Vivian asked me to pay court to Miss Riverton.”

She frowned. “Whatever for?”

“To draw the attention of other would-be suitors.”

She opened her mouth to say something, then closed it. Her frown intensified. She was annoyed that her sister-in-law would ask such a thing of Justin. But in truth she had no reason to be irritated. Still, part of it felt like a betrayal.

“Did you know that Lord Volley makes wagers on his wife’s dog breeding?” Justin asked.

She smiled relieved that he had changed the subject considering she’d just asked him to court her for no apparent reason. They had done well the other night when they’d spoken of similar matters. “I did not, but I do know that Lady Volley is so entranced with said dogs that supposedly she allows them in her bed, but not her husband. And I believe she has seven of those furry little creatures.”

“Fascinating,” he said.

“Most assuredly.”

“What do you know of that woman over there?” He nodded toward the stately older woman standing at the edge of the ballroom doors.

“Oh, that is Lady Pringle, and I’m afraid I have no gossip about her. She is a pinnacle of propriety,” Clarissa said.

“That is Lady Pringle?”

“You have heard of her? It would seem her reputation far reaches even what I would have thought. Then again, Rebecca used to call her the finest lady in all of London.”

He grinned, a devilish grin that made Clarissa’s toes curl. “It would seem that I am the one holding the gossip on her.”

“No!” But his grin did not falter. “Truly?” she asked.

“Indeed. Your mistress of decorum over there is also a notorious gambler. She uses a false name and sends a proxy in her stead, but she places wagers on nearly everything under the sun.”

“You are lying.”

“Absolute truth.” He put his hand over his heart as if making a pledge.

She narrowed her eyes at him. “If she uses a proxy and a fake name, how do you know it’s her?”

“I make it my business to know about everyone who patronizes Rodale’s. I did not know what she looked like, but my investigation turned up her real name.” He gave Clarissa a look. “I should go over there and introduce myself.”

“You cannot do that. You simply cannot introduce yourself, it isn’t done.”

“Yes, but I am a bastard. People would expect such things from me.” He shrugged. “But I will leave her alone. I do not want to lose her patronage. She is one of the more interesting ones.”