A Little Bit Sinful

by Robyn DeHart

  “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 her
e?” 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.

  Chapter Three

  After the kiss, Justin had bundled Clarissa into his own carriage and sent her back to her townhome. Then he’d left and made his way to Rodale’s for the evening. Her request had surprised him, as had her admission, though not nearly as much as her reaction to his kiss. He’d gotten the distinct feeling that he had not ended their embrace she would have allowed him to steal her virtue completely. As tempting as that thought was, Justin needed to be more careful with his advances. He could kiss her, but he couldn’t allow things to go much further.

  He’d admit that her secret had come as a surprise. Out of all the things she could have said in his study, that she’d been posing as a solicitor and making financial decisions for the Kincaid fortune had not even entered his mind. He couldn’t say he was surprised that Clarissa was accomplished in such a task, she’d always been quite clever, but she also strived to be so perfectly ladylike and this was anything but. He’d agreed to assist her as much because he was fascinated by the venture as his interest in spending more time with her.

  It puzzled him that she hadn’t inquired more about George Wilbanks’ debt and the lie the man had told
her about his connection with Rodale’s. Certainly she was curious about it, if not offended by the lie itself. This was a man she fully intended to marry. It didn’t seem as if George was quite so certain. As far as he could tell George Wilbanks was no more interested in Clarissa than he was the handful of other pretty girls with whom he flirted and spent time.

  Justin left the street and made his way inside his establishment. It was crowded tonight, not unusual, but he normally made his rounds on the gaming floor earlier in the evening, then spent the rest of the time in his office unless he was needed. Tonight he’d arrived later than usual. After working on his own books and then the spontaneous visit from Clarissa, he was only now arriving at Rodale’s and it was nearing two. He nodded to Lord Asterfield who sat with a large pile of winnings in front of him. The man smiled brazenly and yelled something across the room. Justin smiled, but kept walking.

  He walked over to the wager book to see if the odds had changed for Clarissa in George’s marriage game. For the moment it seemed as though the other girl had a slight lead on Clarissa. Justin nodded to a few more patrons, then made his way to the stairs that led up to his offices without anyone else trying to stop him. He was not interested in conversing with these men tonight.

  He stepped into his office and stared down through the windows to the floor below. All of this was his, built from nothing. Ten years ago, he’d been done with his schooling and his father had decided he’d bestowed enough generosity to his bastard son so he’d kicked Justin out just as he’d increased Roe’s allowance. Justin had had nothing, save the money he’d bilked from schoolmates over the years of covert card games. Their father had died two years after that.

  Now Rodale’s was the most opulent and profitable gaming establishment in all of London. For most aristocrats, Justin’s success wasn’t enough for him to be welcomed into their ranks, not truly. They enjoyed Rodale’s, jested with him, pretended as if they were friends, but on the few occasions he had attended a proper Society function many had pretended they’d never met him.

  Justin stepped into the office where he and his assistant manager, Mr. Clipps, shared a space. Justin could have taken this entire area for his own office and left Clipps in the outer room, but the man knew as much about Rodale’s as Justin did. And it made it easier for both to keep track of the ledgers. He dropped the ledgers he’d brought in from home onto Clipps’ desk.