A Little Bit Sinful

by Robyn DeHart

  Chapter Four

  Justin was shown into the parlor at the Kincaid townhouse. Marcus and his new wife, Vivian, stood in the room conversing with Marcus’s cousins and a young woman whom Justin did not know. Immediately, Vivian stepped over to him. Marcus followed behind her after patting some older gentleman on the shoulder.

  “Mr. Rodale,” Vivian said. “I’m so pleased you could come tonight.”

  “We are friends now. You must call me Justin.” He shook Marcus’s hand. In the world he’d grown up in, full of the wealthy and titled who always found a reason to disparage him, Justin had always trusted Marcus. “Welcome back from your honeymoon. I will not inquire as to how it went.”

  Vivian blushed and Marcus smiled broadly. He grabbed his wife around the waist and pulled her to him. “It was a lovely break from London,” Vivian said. “I am glad to be back though.”

  “Pleased my sister didn’t get herself into any more trouble in our absence,” Marcus said as Clarissa entered the room. She caught Justin’s gaze and her steps faltered. Evidently she hadn’t known he’d been invited.

  Clarissa was radiant in a bright yellow dress that accented her golden hair. The gown fit her perfectly, molding to her curves. It had only been the night before that those curves had been pressed against him, her sultry mouth pressed to his.

  Justin swallowed. Perhaps she hadn’t gotten herself into trouble, but only because she hadn’t been caught going to his townhome. And because no one had seen them kissing at the museum. Now Justin was the one making an ass of himself. He had no business looking at Clarissa in such a way, let alone while her older brother and his dear friend, stood next to him. Thankfully Marcus could not read his carnal thoughts.

  “Justin, I did not realize you’d been invited to our family dinner,” Clarissa said.

  “Clarissa, where is Maureen?” Vivian asked, saving Justin from having to respond to Clarissa’s quip.

  “She said she was not feeling very well and for us to send up a tray,” Clarissa said. She went and stood by the other young woman and the girls put their heads together, whispering.

  “Then let us not delay dinner any further,” Marcus said.

  “If I could have a moment with Clarissa,” Justin said.

  Marcus nodded, then led the rest into the dining room. Vivian busied herself directing people to the appropriate chairs.

  Clarissa’s friend eyed her, then gave her a smile and stepped into the dining room.

  When they were alone, Justin spoke first. “Is that Ella?”

  “It is. Did you have a chance to speak with her father?” Clarissa asked in a hushed voice.

  “I visited Lord Weaver this morning.”

  She twisted her pinky finger with her other hand. “And?”

  “I told him that you and I had spoken about the matter based on a conversation you and his daughter had. He was reluctant at first, but I convinced him that Mr. Bembridge was an excellent solicitor and would be able to restore his coffers. He’s agreed. You should be receiving the letter hiring,” he cleared his throat, “Mr. Bembridge in the next day or so.”

  She gave him with a brilliant smile. “I could hug you right now, Justin. Thank you for helping. I couldn’t live with myself if I knew my dearest friend’s family was in dire straits and I could have helped, but stood by and did nothing.”

  “I should very much enjoy that hug, I believe, but perhaps we should keep our embraces more of the private nature. Do you have ideas for their investments?”

  “I do.” She told him about her thoughts and he was pleased that she’d already thought about several investments that would be highly profitable.

  “Good ideas. I think those are excellent choices. I have a few other suggestions you can look at as well,” he said. “If you need additional options.”

  “This makes us partners, Chrissy,” he whispered next to her ear. “Shall we?” He offered his arm and she took it. They walked into the dining room.

  He smiled when he realized they’d seated him next to Clarissa. She, on the other hand, seemed somewhat flustered, but she took her seat nonetheless, refusing his assistance when he offered. Her friend was seated on the other side of her and was more than pleased when he offered her help. She smiled broadly up at him. She was shorter than Clarissa, more plump as well, and she was very pretty. Pretty in a fresh, straight from the schoolroom sort of way with her bouncing brown curls and wide green eyes.

  “Justin, I am so pleased you could make it this evening,” Vivian said. “I didn’t know what your schedule would be, but I don’t suppose your establishment begins to get too busy until dinner parties like these come to a close.”

  “We do tend to get busier afterwards, but there is always gaming to be found at Rodale’s. We are open whenever someone wants to play.”

  “Fascinating,” Vivian said. “I’ve never been much of a gambler myself, but it is interesting.”

  …

  Clarissa didn’t find it interesting in the least. Wasting money on a game of chance made no sense to her at all. And truly all she could think of was the rumor Ella had shared with her. Obviously Clarissa had some brazenness inside her as Justin had been able to coax it out with merely a kiss. Of course it had been a toe-curling, knee-weakening kiss that certainly would have caused even her majesty to show a little wantonness.

  “I am not a gambler either,” Justin said.

  Ironic, that—Justin owning a gaming establishment, but not choosing to gamble with his own money. George was obviously a gambler, or perhaps he had lied about owing money all together. Understanding more about all of that, despite her disinterest, could make her more worldly, couldn’t it?

  “Perhaps merely a shrewd businessman,” Vivian said.

  “I made some good guesses on what would be popular with this crowd. While I am not one of them,” he said, “I was raised alongside them and I know them fairly well.”

  “It’s amazing what you can learn simply by watching,” Vivian said.

  “Indeed.” Justin turned his heated gaze to her. “You look lovely tonight, Chrissy,” he said with a grin.

  Though he did not touch her, warmth radiated off his hands and seemed to permeate through her evening gown. She shook off a shiver. “Sh! Someone could hear you.”

  “Hear me give a beautiful woman a compliment? Is that such a sin?”

  He had her there. She nodded in concession. “Thank you.” But she refused to tell him that he too looked beautiful. Women didn’t say such things regardless of the fact that for Justin Rodale it would have been the complete truth. It was ridiculous how handsome he was, with his dark features and sultry eyes. Eyes that at the very moment were staring directly at her. Precisely what was the purpose for a man to have such long eyelashes? Thick and dark, they framed his eyes, eyes so dark they were beyond brown. She shivered again.

  Why was she so annoyed that he was here? She liked him, he was a family friend. She enjoyed his kisses, though certainly that would not happen again. Still, there was no reason to be irritated with him simply because she was frustrated with her recent discovery of being in a bridal competition with Franny Cooper. Clarissa smiled warmly. “Thank you for coming to welcome back my brother and his bride,” she said louder than was necessary.

  He nodded. “I came only to see you,” he said in a low voice.

  She schooled her features not giving in to the shock of his admission. Ella jabbed her elbow into Clarissa’s side. She yelped, and smiled awkwardly to the rest of the table. “Hiccups,” she said. Then she leaned closer to her friend. “What?” she whispered.

  “Oh good heavens, Clarissa, you never told me he was so very handsome,” Ella said dreamily.

  “It didn’t seem important.”

  “He’s so handsome,” Ella said. She leaned forward and smiled at Justin seated on the other side of Clarissa, then leaned back. “I know you said he looked like a pirate, but I was expecting him to be dirty and hairier. But he does, in fact, look like a pirate. As if
he could swing down from a mast and take the helm.”

  It was Clarissa’s turn to jab her elbow in Ella’s side. “You cannot lean forward in such a way, he’ll know you’re staring.” What was it about him that made one think of a swashbuckler? She positioned herself so that her body blocked the two people on either side of her from seeing one another. “I don’t want him to think we’re talking about him.”

  “But we are talking about him,” Ella said. She looked at Clarissa with a frown.

  Clarissa’s heart thundered in her chest. It occurred to her, with alarming clarity, that one of the reasons she found it so distressing that he was here was because the very last time she’d seen him, he’d kissed her. She felt her cheeks grow warm and knew a blush stained her face. Thankfully the soup course was served and she had something she could focus on besides reliving that kiss again and again. Not that she hadn’t already done so.

  “He’s really dashing,” Ella whispered again. “Honestly, Clarissa, look at him”

  “I will not. I am quite aware of how handsome he is. If you find men such as him attractive. Which I do not.”

  Ella held up her hand. “Clarissa, I swear, if you say anything about George, I will vomit in my purse.”

  “George is very handsome.”

  “No one ever argued that point, but you are wasting your time on him. That man is never going to marry you. Good heavens, you’ve been waiting for him to propose for nearly three years. And now we find out there are at handful of other women who have been waiting right along with you. You should be furious.”

  Clarissa wanted to argue, wanted to say that George would in fact propose. But she didn’t know what to believe anymore. “Let us not fight about this again. You and I see George very differently.” She wasn’t even so certain she wanted to marry George, but she knew that was who Rebecca had chosen for her. Rebecca had impeccable taste. Clarissa, on the other hand, was known for making questionable judgments. Like when she’d fallen for Christopher Reynolds, she’d been so smitten, Rebecca had told her he wasn’t to be trusted. She’d learned that the hard way when he’d deserted her and stolen several pieces of her jewelry.

  “I thought you should know I’m looking into Mr. Wilbanks’ claims of owing me money.” Clarissa nearly choked as she swallowed her soup. “Do you mean to tell me that you were mistaken and that he does, in fact, owe you money?” she whispered.

  He shook his head. “No, I was not mistaken. He does not owe me anything. I am merely looking deeper into the situation. I should like to know whom he does owe money, if in fact any part of his story was true.”

  It was on her tongue to argue that point, to tell him that George Wilbanks was an honest man, but the words died in her mouth. Clearly George had not been honest. About his debt and about his intentions towards her. He might have a perfectly reasonable reason for lying to her, but that remained to be seen. She couldn’t very well praise his virtues when he’d so blatantly lied. What would Justin discover in his investigation of the matter?

  “Will you tell me?” she asked.

  “Tell you what?”

  “Whatever you discover about George or this situation, will you give me the details?”

  He nodded. “I will.”

  The second course was served and while that occurred, Ella leaned close to Clarissa’s other ear. “Now tell me more about Mr. Rodale.”

  “There is nothing to tell. He is a friend of the family,” Clarissa said, but even she wasn’t so convinced by the words.

  “I wish he were a friend of my family.”

  …

  After dinner they retired to the parlor and Vivian invited Clarissa to play the harpsichord. Clarissa took a seat at the instrument. Justin stood against the wall, behind the chair where Clarissa had been sitting. He watched her as she splayed her fingers across the keys. She began to play. Her body moved over the keys and the music that poured from her fingers was sheer perfection. Her eyes closed and she felt each note of the piece. Mozart, if he wasn’t mistaken. She pretended as if passion was beneath her, as if feeling strongly was something only the lower classes felt, but he could see right here, right now, in front of everyone that she was passionate about music.

  He smiled. It was a starting point.

  She continued playing, the notes surrounded the room and no one spoke, everyone watched her, raptly attentive to her playing. Her long fingers nimbly moved against the keys quickly and she leaned forward chewing on her lip. Ladies were supposed to sit straight and play for the entertainment of those in the room. But Clarissa played for herself, Justin could clearly see that, because she loved the music, she felt it. Now he understood why she’d looked longingly at some of the displays at the museum the other night.

  Finally the song came to an end and the small room burst with applause, which brought forth a most brilliant smile from Clarissa.

  Marcus’s cousins stood and said their goodbyes.

  Clarissa returned to her seat and Justin nodded to her.

  “You play beautifully,” he leaned in and whispered.

  “Thank you.”

  “Passionately.”

  She whipped her head around to focus on him. She opened her mouth to say something, but words seemed to fail her.

  “Merely an observation,” he said with a shrug.

  “Yes, well you do not need to say every thought that enters your head.”

  He let his gaze wander to her bosom for several breaths, watching her breasts rise and fall, then he slowly looked back at her face. “Believe me when I tell you I do not say every thought in my head.”

  She said nothing in return, but the rapid rise and fall of her breasts as her breathing sped said enough.

  “Mr. Rodale, a word if you don’t mind,” Vivian said.

  “Clarissa, it’s been a pleasure.” He bent over her hand, but did not kiss it. Then he turned and followed Vivian into the corridor. “Is there a problem?”

  “No, no of course not. I merely wanted to discuss something with you. You are well aware of my, well, that is to say you know of the ways in which I can assist people,” Vivian said.

  “I was under the impression that when you married Marcus you had ceased the life of The Paragon,” Justin said. Just months before she had been known as such in London. A woman families could go to in the midst of scandal and she would devise a plan to bury said scandal beneath the proverbial rug. She had done so for Clarissa.

  Vivian smiled. “Yes, I had intended that once the truth about my past was revealed that no one would seek my services again. But it would seem that I was incorrect in that estimate.”

  “You have a new client, then?”

  “It would seem so. Perhaps not as tricky a situation as I’ve handled in the past, but a puzzle to be solved nonetheless. The mother of a young woman has sought my assistance in a predicament. Her daughter does not garner the attention of men.”

  Justin frowned. “My apologies, Vivian, but what does this have to do with me?”

  “Yes, I was just getting to that part. You were so very helpful with the situation with Clarissa, reintroducing yourself into Society to be seen publically with her and Marcus. Your presence made it all the more believable that her little visit to your establishment was nothing more than a personal invitation, even if poorly thought out. In any case, I was telling Marcus that all this girl needs is for a man to show interest in her. Some men simply need permission, if you will, from another man that declares that a woman is desirable.”

  “I’m still not following.”

  “I want you to court her.”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “Of course it wouldn’t be a real courtship, she would know your intentions were not sincere. You would merely appear to be courting her so that perhaps another man would step forward and take an interest in her.”

  “You think this would work?” Justin asked. “I’m not exactly a mother’s wish for her daughter.”

  “Nonsense,” Vivian said with a pat o
n his arm. “You are a devilishly charming man.”

  Justin smiled. “Be that as it may, I’m not certain that my attentions will be all that welcomed. Who is the girl?

  “Her name is Betsy Riverton.” Vivian’s mouth twitched. “She’s not unattractive at all though I don’t know that we could consider her a beauty. I believe her issue stems more from being overly talkative.”

  “Ah, yes, well affluent men are not known for being attracted to women with opinions. I shall consider it.”

  …

  The following day Clarissa met Ella for luncheon. They’d decided to do so with a picnic in the park. Aunt Maureen sat on a bench reading a book somewhere near them. Clarissa set out the food, cheeses and fruit with bread. It was awkward being around Ella in a way it never had been before. There was much she couldn’t tell her, and Clarissa simply wasn’t used to not being able to share everything with Ella.

  Even when it came to George, a point they vehemently disagreed upon, yet Clarissa had always been honest with Ella. Until now. Until Clarissa had become Mr. Bembridge and kissed Justin Rodale.

  Ella cleared her throat when Clarissa looked up at her, and she widened her eyes. “Are you going to tell me what’s troubling you? Honestly, Clarissa, I’m your very closest friend, I shouldn’t have to ask.” Then Ella winced. “It’s everything I told you last night, isn’t it? Should I have not told you? I thought you’d want to know,” she put her hand to her chest. “If it were me, I know I’d want to know if the man I thought I was going to marry had been creating a pool of women to select from.”

  “Of course you should have told me. I’m not upset with you in the least. Merely been considering all my options, as it were.”

  “Will you share them with me?”

  “You shouldn’t have to ask.” She knew she couldn’t tell Ella the truth about Mr. Bembridge, but she could include her in other matters. The fact was she needed the counsel, could use a second opinion. She looked around to make certain no one was in earshot, especially her aunt. “Mr. Rodale kissed me,” she whispered.