A Little Bit Sinful

by Robyn DeHart

  Ella smiled broadly. “He is so handsome.” She clapped her hands together. “Oh you must tell me everything. Every detail. Was it last night? When he asked to speak to you before dinner? Oh goodness, how could you have even concentrated on your food?”

  “No, no, not last night. It was before.”

  Ella giggled. “Tell me all about it.”

  Clarissa smiled in return; she couldn’t help it. The fact of the matter was, she very much enjoyed Justin’s kiss, and to finally be able to share that with someone was exceedingly liberating. “It is hard to describe. It was very nice,” she said, knowing that would never satisfy Ella, but not knowing how else to say it.

  “Very nice.” Ella shook her head, her curls bounced as she did. “No, porridge, when it is the right temperature and sweetened with enough honey, is very nice. Kisses from devilishly handsome men, they are more than nice. And judging from that smile on your face, I’d say it was definitely more than nice.”

  Clarissa nodded. “Oh, Ella, I had no notion it could be that way between a man and a woman. He is gentle, yet demanding and passionate, and oh dear heavens—” She brought a hand to her chest. “It simply curls my toes.”

  Ella clapped again. “I knew it! Your reaction curled my toes! Men like Mr. Rodale know all of those secrets.”

  “What secrets?”

  Ella looked around them, then leaned close to speak in a whisper. “About the sins of the flesh. Sensual things.” Ella nodded with confidence as if she were the foremost authority on the subject. “You can tell that about him, the way he carries himself.” She rubbed at her arms. “I simply can’t imagine. I’m positively green with jealousy. If you want to teach yourself to be more worldly so you can compete with Franny, you need not look any further than Mr. Rodale for an excellent teacher. I wonder if we could take a joint class.”

  Clarissa nudged Ella with her elbow. “Be serious.” But her friend’s words, though spoken in jest, might be precisely what Clarissa needed.

  “If Mr. Rodale looked at me the way he looked at you, I would find a way to sneak him into the darkest corner I could find,” Ella said. “As often as I could.”

  “Ella Atkins! You would do no such thing.” Clarissa’s cheeks flamed. “And he looks at me no differently than he does anyone. There is a problem though.”

  “How could that present a problem?”

  “George,” Clarissa said. She took a bite of cheese and waited for the inevitable of what Ella would say. Her friend made no secret of how she felt about George, but she also was quite good at giving advice once you allowed her to spout off a little.

  “Oh, Clarissa, you know how I feel about this,” Ella said. Then she made a sound of derision. “That man parades around this town as if he deserved every woman in his path.” She shook her head in disgust. “He certainly doesn’t deserve you.”

  “He has to maintain appearances, but those other girls don’t mean anything to him. He’s told me as much.” But as she said the words, doubt reared its head inside her. He had such that about the other girls months ago when she’d asked about one girl in particular. Since then he had lied to her about his debt. Perhaps he also lied about those other women, perhaps he had lied about her to other women. A shiver of revulsion pulsed through her.

  “The man hasn’t proposed yet,” Ella said gently. “The only reason he’s even considering marriage right now is this ultimatum from his father.”

  “He has said as much?” George had certainly talked about his father to her, but he’d never said that he hadn’t wanted to marry, merely that’d he’d been waiting for the appropriate time.

  “Not to me, but Clifton has mentioned it, about how George claims he never wants to marry, he wants to be free to do as he pleases. But you know my brother is sweet on you though.” She waved her hand. “As much as I’d love to have you as a sister, I wouldn’t suggest marrying my brother. He’s such a bore. In any case, continue about George.”

  If George had told Ella’s brother—his closest friend—that he had no intention of marrying…that was different than anything he’d told Clarissa. He was clearly lying to one of them. Or perhaps he merely said as much to his friend so that he didn’t appear besotted. She took a deep breath. “He has never kissed me. And I believe that might be why he hasn’t proposed, because he perceives me as being too proper, too ladylike for him to kiss,” Clarissa said. “I think he cannot imagine me in the bedroom, performing wifely duties. It must be why Franny has better odds than I do right now.”

  “That is poppycock,” Ella said.

  But Clarissa wasn’t so certain. George was always the perfect gentleman with her, but she knew men had urges, desires. She knew men, men besides Justin Rodale, stole kisses from women in darkened corners and behind potted plants. George had certainly had the opportunity, but his lips had never so much as brushed the skin of her cheek.

  “It is a natural concern. I do not even know if George finds me desirable,” Clarissa said.

  “And you want to know if kissing feels the same with him as it does with Mr. Rodale.” Ella shook her head. “If I had to wager, I’d say it won’t because, though George is quite handsome, he’s too, I don’t know, arrogant and selfish to be passionate.”

  “George is very handsome.” Clarissa could see him in her mind, his blond hair, which oddly enough, now seemed too short. He did have a wonderful smile with deep dimples creasing his cheeks. Yet, the smile had lost its effect as of late. Ever since she learned he’d lied to her.

  “Ridiculously handsome when he smiles,” Ella said. She chewed on a piece of cheese, then nodded. “The way I see it, there’s only one thing for you to do. You must kiss him.”

  “George?” Clarissa asked.

  “Precisely.” Ella grinned “Unless you’d prefer to kiss Mr. Rodale again.”

  “No, of course not,” Clarissa said. She really must stop lying to Ella, but honestly she couldn’t very well admit to such a thing. It was one thing to want a man you would marry to see you as brazen, quite another for her to parade her wares through London. “I have every intention of marrying George.” But even as she said the words they felt false to her. She’d spent so much of her life pursuing marriage with him, was she only doing so now because without George she had no other prospects in her life? Justin certainly hadn’t indicated he was interested in being more to her than he currently was. “I’m not intending to spread my favors, as it were, to the rest of the gentlemen in London. Regardless of how delicious their kisses are.”

  Ella thought a minute. “I’m not certain it’s a solid argument, but I’ll let it pass. So how shall you do it?”

  “Do what?”

  “Kiss George?”

  “Oh, right.” Clarissa considered her options for a moment. “Well, I suppose I could find a moment when we’re alone and do it then.”

  “Tonight. At the ball. They have a fabulous garden. It would be the perfect place to sneak away and steal a kiss,” Ella said.

  “How do you know all of this?”

  Ella shrugged. “I listen to other people’s conversations. And, well, you know my mother is a terrible gossip.” She grabbed Clarissa’s hand. “Regretfully, it’s not because anyone has been stealing my kisses.”

  Clarissa kissed her friend’s hand. “It’s only because they have not realized how wonderful you are. Someday, Ella, some man is going to come to his senses and steal all of your kisses.”

  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 t
hat 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.”