A Little Bit Sinful

by Adrienne Basso

  “I was asked to escort you back to the ball,” the duke declared.

  Eleanor looked at him hesitantly. “You seemed so surprised to see me, Your Grace. I wasn’t certain if Seb … Lord Benton had sent you.”

  “Oh, he sent me all right. Arrogant cur.”

  “Did he tell you why?”

  “No.” The duke gave a humorless laugh. “Knowing Benton, ‘tis something disgraceful, I’m sure, though I am shocked to discover it involves you. Thought you had more sense. For a woman.”

  “Well, I—”

  The duke held up his hand, waving it insistently in front of her. “Cease. I don’t want to know. Benton asked for my help and I’m providing it. Now take my arm and I’ll see you safely back to the ballroom.”

  Eleanor’s face flooded with heat. This was simply ghastly. She wanted very much to toss her head and refuse his help, but something in his gaze convinced her that would be very foolish indeed.

  With as much dignity as she could muster, Eleanor placed her hand on the duke’s outstretched arm. He grunted his approval and left the library. They walked the hallways silently, taking a different route than the way she had come. Eleanor speculated it was to avoid meeting any of the other guests, but she did not ask. It was simply too embarrassing.

  After what felt like an eternity they arrived at the ballroom. Eleanor’s heart thumped loudly in her breast, and her fingers tightened on the duke’s arm.

  “Chin up, eyes forward, cool, haughty glances at anyone who dares to level a curious look at you,” the duke instructed as he nearly pulled her through the archway. “And for God’s sake, try not to appear guilty.”

  Eleanor held her breath as she tried to follow the duke’s advice. She braced herself, trying to prepare for anything, then gradually realized there was no need. No one gasped in sudden outrage, or twittered behind their fans, or pointed accusing fingers in her direction.

  “Would you care to dance?” she asked the duke.

  “An excellent idea.”

  They joined the last set as it formed. Eleanor tried to concentrate on the steps of the dance but could not prevent herself from looking about the room. She stumbled when she caught sight of Arthur Peterson, but he barely spared her a glance. The duke’s arm shot out to steady her. He looked at her curiously and she gave him a withering stare.

  “Good girl,” he said.

  Eleanor smiled openly, realizing disaster had been averted. She was safe from detection, thanks to Sebastian’s plan.

  She was feeling relaxed when the music drew to a close and ready to strike out on her own again. She linked her arm through the duke’s as they left the floor, comfortable enough to be less formal with him.

  “Thank you for your assistance, Your Grace. ‘Tis much appreciated.”

  The duke hesitated. “I’ve no right to give you advice, but I’m going to anyway. I’ve known Benton since he was a young pup. He’s managed to reform some of his wilder behavior these past few months, but a leopard can never truly change its spots. As far as I know, he’s never ruined a woman for the sheer pleasure of it, but anything is possible. Be very careful, Lady Eleanor, lest you get tangled up in some nasty business.”

  His lecture delivered, the duke bowed and left. Eleanor watched him disappear into the crowd with mixed feelings. A moment later she sensed someone coming up behind her. Eleanor turned and to her relief saw it was Bianca.

  “I have just heard the most scandalous gossip about Viscount Benton,” Bianca whispered.

  “Really?” Nerves pounding, Eleanor tried to appear nonchalant.

  Bianca glanced over her shoulder, making certain no one was near enough to overhear. “Apparently the viscount arranged a tryst in the library this evening and was caught in a most compromising position.” She paused dramatically. “Both he and his female companion were discovered stark naked!”

  “Oh my.” Eleanor could feel the pulse beating rapidly in her neck. “Who was the woman?”

  “No one is saying. ‘Twas Arthur Peterson who found them, yet he refuses to divulge the lady’s name, claiming he wishes to salvage her reputation. I asked Lord Waverly his opinion and he said that Peterson is one of the biggest gossips in London. The only reason he’s not saying is because he probably doesn’t know.”

  “Hmm, well, perhaps Mr. Peterson can’t offer details because the incident never occurred?” Eleanor suggested.

  “No, I’m sure there is something to the tale. Lord Waverly believes Peterson lacks the imagination to totally fabricate a story on his own. There must be some truth to it.”

  Eleanor forced a casual tone. “The details will most likely never be known, unless Lord Benton decides to defend himself against the malicious gossip and punish the person who started the rumors.”

  Bianca’s eyes widened. “By calling out Mr. Peterson? Lord Waverly says Benton is a lethal shot and an excellent swordsman. I fear it would end very badly for Mr. Peterson.”

  “Oh, I doubt it will come to a duel,” Eleanor said confidently, though she wondered precisely how the viscount would handle the situation. True, he had warned the man to keep silent, yet challenging Peterson directly could lend more credence to the story. Laughing it off as pure fiction might be the better route. “Lord Benton might be scandalous, but he is hardly bloodthirsty.”

  “Whatever he is, I am just glad that I followed your advice about him. By all accounts he is not a gentleman intent on settling down and being faithful to one woman.”

  Chapter 11

  “You want me to do what?” Sebastian exclaimed, staring at Eleanor in astonishment.

  “I want you to help me find a husband for Bianca,” Eleanor repeated calmly.

  “That’s what I thought you said.” His gray eyes widened. “I swear, I am speechless.”

  “Hmm.” She took a dainty bite of her ice and regarded him seriously. This was the first time they had spoken privately since the Tauntons’ ball, four days ago. The gossip about Sebastian and his infamous tryst was no longer a main topic of discussion among the ton, making it safe for them to appear together in public.

  Mr. Peterson had been effectively silenced, by means Eleanor could only imagine, but it was the sudden elopement of Miss Allen and Lord Mortley that had taken center stage in the rumor mill. The bad blood between their two families was legendary, going back so many generations that no one could say with any certainty what started the original feud.

  Yet somehow these two individuals were able to look beyond their legacy and fall in love. Knowing the consent to marry would not be forthcoming from either family, the two lovers had elected to run away together.

  Ladies were sighing over the details, gentlemen were convinced there was more to the story than had been told, and everyone was clamoring to know the truth of the matter. In her heart Eleanor wished the couple well, yet she was grateful their escapade had relegated the viscount’s indiscretion inconsequential.

  Coming to Gunter’s this afternoon to enjoy an ice together was an inspired idea and Eleanor was pleased Sebastian had suggested it. This public setting was the perfect place to have a private moment.

  There was a sizable crowd partaking of the delectable frozen concoctions. The temperature had been unseasonably warm, yet Eleanor believed the crowds still would have come if it were the middle of winter, for the frozen treat was unique and delicious.

  Eleanor was aware of the speculative glances cast at their table. She was certain everyone was wondering why someone as handsome and sophisticated as Viscount Benton would choose to spend time with someone as plain and simple as herself. It was a natural question, one Eleanor had pondered herself.

  Until that night in the Tauntons’ library. Memories of his kisses, his caresses, remained crisp and clear in her mind. She might not understand why, but she was convinced that Sebastian’s desire for her was genuine. And she gloried in it.

  “I believe the cold ice has affected your brain,” Sebastian finally replied. “You cannot seriously expect me to assis
t you in finding a husband for your sister.”

  “Oh, I am most serious.” Eleanor shook off his objections and took another bite of her ice. The cool, sweet taste of lemon burst upon her tongue and slid down her throat with ease. Sighing, she closed her eyes and savored the moment. It was a most extraordinary sensory experience.

  Opening her eyes, Eleanor lifted her spoon and noticed Sebastian was giving her a strange gaze. “Why are you staring at me? Have I spilled something on my face?” She hastily rubbed her chin with the linen handkerchief she had in her hand, but the cloth came away empty.

  “Watching you eat your ice is nothing short of sensual torture,” he admitted, gazing very directly into her eyes. “If you don’t behave yourself, I shall have to dump a dish of it on my lap in order to stand without disgracing myself.”

  Eleanor slowly lowered her spoon. She was not doing anything. “I don’t understand what you mean.”

  “I know.” He shifted in his chair, wincing slightly. “That makes it even more maddening.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “Are you trying to change the subject?”

  “My dearest Eleanor, I am attempting to save my dignity. This has nothing to do with your insane request regarding a husband for your sister.”

  Still not convinced, she leaned forward in her chair. Tilting her head, Eleanor glanced nonchalantly down at his lap. The bulge there was impressive and unmistakable, tenting the front of his breeches. He was unquestionably aroused. At the sight of me eating an ice?

  “Oh my,” she whispered.

  “Oh my, indeed.” He cleared his throat loudly and shifted once again. “Though I maintain your request for my assistance is illogical and bizarre, discussing matrimony will no doubt help to … uhm … deflate my current predicament.”

  She grinned shyly. It was foolish to feel flattered, yet Eleanor did. But she was also aware that she had waded into a situation quite out of her depth. Uncertain how to react in public to Sebastian’s lingering looks, she picked up the thread of conversation.

  “Lord Waverly has shown considerable interest in Bianca, but I was told he did the same last Season with another debutante, yet did not offer for the girl.”

  “I can’t recall, but that’s hardly surprising. Matrimonial gossip has never been a keen interest of mine.” A ghost of a smile touched Sebastian’s lips. “Waverly’s a decent sort. Good family, though his older sister is a high-strung female with a grating voice. Can’t count that against him, poor fellow. He holds his liquor, doesn’t gamble too deep in the pockets, pays his debts on time. I suppose he’d make an adequate husband.”

  “Adequate?” Eleanor frowned. “I want to find someone for Bianca who is kind and of good character. Someone who will appreciate her not only for her physical beauty but for her tender heart. Someone who will protect and cherish her. A strong man who is not a bully, but who has the fortitude and courage to stand up to the earl.”

  Sebastian shrugged. “I don’t know Waverly all that well. He could be a good choice.”

  “He could,” Eleanor agreed. “If Bianca decides she truly wants him. But it must be her choice. She’s had so little exposure to gentlemen, I worry it won’t be easy for her to make a decision.” Eleanor frowned, remembering how enamored Bianca had been with the pompous Mr. Smyth back home.

  “Bianca is a lovely girl,” Sebastian said. “I’m sure there are scores of eligible bachelors beating a path to your doorstep.”

  “Thankfully, the numbers are growing. I believe your initial interest in her kept them pitifully small when we first arrived in Town.”

  Tiny frown lines appeared in Sebastian’s brow. “Are you saying I scared them all away?”

  “Stop looking so smug. I’m certain it was an unintentional result.”

  Sebastian’s chest visibly inflated. Eleanor hid her smile. A man’s pride was a powerful thing. “So, will you help me?” she asked. He fixed her with a look of speculative appraisal. “Honestly, it makes me shudder to even contemplate trapping some poor, unsuspecting gentleman in a parson’s mousetrap. Most unsporting.”

  “Oh, for pity’s sake, we are not trapping anyone,” Eleanor protested, her cheeks turning pink. “Besides, I thought you were a secret romantic.”

  “Romantic perhaps, but I am not witless.” Sebastian’s teeth flashed a wicked grin. “What is my reward if I decide to offer you assistance?”

  “The satisfaction of knowing you have done a good turn for someone,” Eleanor answered promptly. He sent her a narrow-eyed glare. “Try again.” “My sincerest gratitude?” she ventured. He drummed his fingers rapidly on the table. “How sincere?”

  Her eyes softened. “Let’s just say you won’t be disappointed.”

  “Promise?”

  “My word of honor.”

  He thrust his hand out. “Agreed.”

  Eleanor rolled her eyes. He laughed and wiggled the fingers on his extended hand at her. Realizing he wasn’t going to stop until she took it, she placed her right hand in his and shook, believing she had made a good bargain.

  Eleanor was in desperate need of some insight to these men and she firmly believed Sebastian was the one to provide it. Strange how she had come to trust him in so short a time. Well, on certain matters.

  “What do you know about Sir Reginald Black?” Eleanor asked, pulling her hand back.

  Sebastian sobered. “Bit of a hellraiser. Very fond of cards, dice, and any other games of chance. He once placed a wager in the betting book at White’s as to how many ladies would be wearing gowns of periwinkle blue at his sister’s coming-out ball.”

  Eleanor’s nostrils flared. “That is rather extreme.”

  Sebastian nodded. “Funny thing is, he won the bet. Took in over a hundred guineas from several grumbling gentlemen. Does that make it any better?”

  “That he won? Goodness, no. He’s off the list. The last thing Bianca needs to cope with is another gamester.”

  “Another?” Sebastian raised his brow.

  Eleanor waved her hand dismissively, evading the question. She did not want to discuss her father. “What about Sir Mark Frost? He’s very handsome and seems to be a congenial type.”

  Sebastian groaned. “His conversation is hardly stimulating. All the man ever talks about is his horses and the crops he is growing on his estate. He has a peculiar obsession with yields, rotations, and the best soil for various plants. Rather frightening, really.”

  Eleanor sighed. “I hadn’t realized. I thought my living in the country spurred that particular topic of conversation when we met last week. Pity, he’s the right age for Bianca. And very good-looking.”

  Sebastian suddenly grew still. “You think he’s handsome?”

  “Devilishly so.” Eleanor grinned saucily, liking the sound of jealousy in the viscount’s tone. “Though he has more of an angelic look with all that curly blond hair.”

  “He’s a bit soft for a man who spends so much of his time outdoors,” Sebastian added, but Eleanor had already eliminated Sir Mark from the list.

  “Who is that young man standing near the doorway?” she asked.

  Sebastian obligingly turned toward the door. “That’s Robert Bywater. He’ll inherit a fortune one day, but I’m afraid that’s really all there is to recommend him.”

  “Oh?” Eleanor’s interest was certainly piqued upon hearing of his wealth. “He looks like a perfectly fine young gentleman.”

  Sebastian smiled. “He’s a nice enough fellow, I suppose, but rather dim. No, exceedingly dim. If he married Bianca they would have beautiful children that alas would lack the wits to keep themselves out of their own way.”

  “You exaggerate.”

  “Most certainly not. Look for yourself; he’s standing at the wrong end of the line.”

  She leaned to her left to see around the viscount and discovered Mr. Bywater was indeed in the incorrect position to place an order. Eleanor sighed. “Heavens, that won’t do, now will it?”

  “Face it, ma’am, you have landed the prime ma
trimonial catch of the season.” Sebastian folded his arms across his chest and gave her a self-satisfied grin. “Me.”

  Eleanor swallowed hard. She was never exactly certain what to make of him when he uttered those kinds of comments. His sexual aggression toward her was obvious, yet he most certainly was not conducting a traditional courtship.

  Though her heart quickened when she recalled the package delivered the morning after their sensual night in the Tauntons’ library. A rare antique, leather-bound edition of Le Morte d’Arthur along with a single, perfect white rose. There was no note accompanying these romantic gifts, yet none was needed.

  Sebastian flirted with her, cast her sensual stares, teased her, and did everything possible to make her laugh. He kissed her senseless at every opportunity but always stopped before their encounters went too far. He took pains to imply his interest in her was honorable, but he was equally honest about the truth of his roguish reputation.

  He never spoke specifically of marriage, never stated firmly his intentions to make her his wife. Eleanor truly had no notion of what he was thinking and she was practical enough to realize Sebastian might not have marriage on his mind.

  He very well might have decided he wanted her for his mistress.

  The very idea should have shocked her, insulted her. She was a virtuous woman, the daughter of an earl, a woman worthy of every regard and consideration. Dictates of society insisted that marriage was the only honorable course open to her if she wanted a physical relationship with a man.

  Yet privately, she was not as inclined to follow society’s rules as she once had been. Eleanor briefly closed her eyes and felt her world spin around her. Had she just talked herself into becoming Sebastian’s mistress? When he hadn’t even asked?

  “Eleanor, where have you gone?” he whispered.

  Her eyes flew open. Embarrassed, she glanced around, but no one seemed to have taken any notice. “Forgive me. My thoughts overtook my manners.”

  “Judging by your blush, they must have been very naughty. Were you thinking of me?” he asked, a hopeful look crossing his face.