A Little Bit Sinful (12 page)

“The Duke of Chanceworth. His brother Monroe is now the duke, but they shared a father,” Clarissa said.

“Ah yes. Now let me think, I never did garner the attention of any dukes, but I do remember him. Dashing, powerful yet he always seemed so stern. I believe he was betrothed to Millicent, or perhaps they were already married then.” She shook her head. “I wish I remembered more.”

“You’ve remembered plenty,” Clarissa said. So now she knew that more than one French woman had been in London during that time. Any one of them could have had an affair with the duke and gotten pregnant with Justin. Lady Forrester might be just who she needed to talk with to uncover more information.

…

They sat in the carriage on the way to ball. Clarissa fidgeted with her hands, the satin of her gloves felt as heavy as wool tonight.

“What did you want to ask me?”

Clarissa looked up at Justin. “I beg your pardon?”

“Earlier today you said you had something you wanted to ask me, then the messenger arrived and we never continued the conversation.”

Clarissa took a deep breath. “Was your mother really French royalty?”

He shook his head. “I don’t know where that rumor got started, but no, she was not French royalty.”

“People talk.” She shrugged. “I don’t recall you ever speaking of her, so I didn’t know. And I figured, as your wife, that now we should get to know one another better.”

“My mother, or the woman I knew as my mother, Eloise Rodale, was a music teacher, or at least she had been before I was born.” His words were even, almost as if he spoke of someone he knew rather than his own life. “She was not, as it turns out, my actual mother, only the woman who raised me until her death. That’s when I went to live at Chanceworth Hall.”

She was quiet a moment, thinking on his words. Had he been devastated when he’d found out the woman he’d lived with since infancy hadn’t been his mother? The urge to embrace him nearly overwhelmed her, but she stifled it else she really cause damage to her name. “But your other mother, she could have been French royalty?”

“That’s highly unlikely.”

“You do not know who she was?” she asked. She watched his features, the way his jaw tensed and how his knuckles whitened as his hands squeezed into fists. “At all?”

“I do not,” he said.

She’d inadvertently hit upon a sore spot for him.

“Not for lack of searching though. I’ve been looking for her, or rather her identity, for years.”

“I could help,” she said.

He gave her a sideways grin. “Help me find my mother?”

“Yes, I’m certain I could prove useful.”

“Why would you want to do that?”

“I am your wife,” she said, hoping that was enough. She certainly empathized with him. She knew what it was like to grow up without a mother. “I never had a mother,” she said, “not really. Rebecca was there for me as was Aunt Maureen, but even though I never met her, I’ve always missed my mother.”

He eyed her for a long while as if estimating whether he believed her or not. “It’s very sweet of you, Chrissy, but there’s nothing you can do.”

Chapter Fourteen

Justin led Clarissa into the ballroom, her arm linked with his. Hell, he hadn’t wanted to come to this thing tonight, but he knew it was important for Clarissa’s sake. If she disappeared from Society now, it would only breed more contention and rumor surrounding her compromise and their marriage.

He knew what it was like to live at the fringe of Society and he didn’t want that for her. So he fully intended to go with her to whatever party she wanted to attend and he’d dare anyone to say anything untoward about her or to her.

He didn’t know where her interest in his mother had come from. But he suspected she might want to discover that his mother was, indeed French royalty in an effort to make Justin himself seem more noble, more worthy to be among the rest of them. He suspected, though, that should they ever uncover his mother’s identity, Clarissa would be sadly disappointed.

…

I
t was their first outing as a married couple and to say Clarissa felt waves of nervousness was a gross understatement. She had no way of knowing how she would be greeted, or what everyone was saying since her compromise. Did people believe it was she and Justin who had been caught in an embrace that night, or would she be brandished a fallen woman? She wasn’t certain if Justin’s name was enough to protect her from the sharper tongues of London.

The conversation in the carriage on the way here about his mother had not gone as well as she’d hoped. Perhaps she should have been more gentle when bringing up the information about his mother, but how was she to know that he’d been lied to his entire life?

She’d, at least, seen a photograph of her mother and had heard her brothers speak of her. Clarissa knew she favored her mother in coloring, if not temperament. But Justin, he had nothing save what someone had told him and she had ripped that away from him. She sighed.

Perhaps if she brought him some information, something concrete, then he’d see how helpful she could be. Tonight she would speak to Lady Forrester, see if she could get additional information from what Ella’s mother had told her. She didn’t want to desert him when they first arrived, but she was eager to find Ella. She made a quick excuse once Justin was safely surrounded by Marcus and Vivian and Aunt Maureen.

Clarissa spotted Ella and grabbed her arm. “I have been waiting for you forever,” she said. “Come with me.”

“Where?”

“To speak with Lady Forrester.”

Ella grinned broadly. “I’m pleased to see you are following up with matters concerning Mr. Rodale’s mother.”

That gave her pause. Perhaps this was not the most appropriate task for her to pursue in light of the fact that he hadn’t seemed too keen on the idea. But if she could uncover his mother’s identity for him, that would be worthwhile.

Justin had been kind enough to insert himself back into Society, a place she’d always assumed he hated, in order to support her. She owed him. Yes, that was most certainly why she was looking into the identity of his mother.

“Have you ever met Lady Forrester?” Ella asked.

“Yes, but it was years ago. Haven’t spoken to her since,” Clarissa said.

“Well, we simply cannot walk up and ask her which French woman had an affair with the Duke of Chanceworth.”

“Of course not. We shall have to be more delicate.” As they approached the woman, Clarissa hoped that delicate manner would come to her because at that very moment, when Lady Forrester turned to look at them, Clarissa didn’t have the slightest idea of what she would say.

Both she and Ella curtsied.

“My lady,” Ella said. “My mother was telling us the most fascinating story the other day.”

Thankfully Ella had more wits about her. Clarissa smiled. “Yes, about the revolution in France when many of you took refuge here in London.”

Lady Forrester smiled in return. “
Oui
, it was when I met my amour,” she said. Though age had grayed parts of her red hair and lined parts of her face, she was still a beautiful woman. Her green eyes shone brightly and her smile spoke of genuine friendliness.

“There were others of you that came?” Clarissa asked.

“Oh
oui
, there were perhaps twenty of us.” She frowned. “Mostly girls and a few of our parents or chaperones. The men stayed to fight or protect their properties, but we came here for protection, and we had a glorious time.”

“Did you know all of them?” Ella asked.

She nodded. “Yes, most of us grew quite close. Some of us still correspond with letters. And then I wasn’t the only one who stayed here in England.”

Clarissa’s stomach jolted at the news. Perhaps Justin’s mother had stayed here in England and was still here, all these years later.

“Let me see. Juliet moved to Brighton as she loved the seaside there, Celeste went to medical school and became a doctor. Mercedes also stayed, but I’m afraid she died from the fever last year,” Lady Forrester said.

“I’m very sorry,” Clarissa said.

“Thank you, she was a dear friend.”

“That must have been quite difficult, trying to find places for all of you to stay during the height of the Season,” Clarissa said.

“No, not at all. We all stayed in the Manchester House. It was lovely. Lady Manchester was a widow and she had opened her grand home up as a hotel and we all lived there together. She was wonderfully hospitable.”

Clarissa and Ella looked at each other and smiled. Manchester House, it was still a hotel. Clarissa knew where it was.

“I suspect you were not the only one who found love while you were here,” Ella said.

“Ah, no, amour was all around.” She laughed.

“Anyone fall in love, but not get to stay as you did?” Clarissa asked.

Lady Forrester’s eyes narrowed. “What are you asking, my dears?”

Clarissa looked at Ella and gave a little shake of her head. They could not come right out and ask or else risk starting rumors anew. While Lady Forrester seemed kind and unassuming, they did not know her and therefore could not trust her with such information. “Nothing, we merely thought it was such a romantic story.” Clarissa feigned a giggle she hoped sounded authentic enough.

Lady Forrester smiled. “You shall find love, my dears, in time.” She motioned for them to come closer. “I have such fondness for you English, but English ladies are taught to wait on the gentleman. If you know you have found the right one, you go after him.”

Clarissa and Ella walked away, arm-in-arm.

“If I had my eye on someone, I would take her advice,” Ella said boldly. “I think she’s right. Why should we have to wait on the men?”

“But it can also get you into more trouble than it’s worth,” Clarissa said.

Ella squeezed her friend’s hand. “True, but in the end I believe you married the best man for you. In time I hope you’ll agree with me.”

…

They had been home from the ball for nearly half an hour. Justin had tried to give her time to undress, have the maid take her hair down. He rapped his knuckle against Clarissa’s bedchamber door.

“Come in,” she said.

Justin opened the door. Clarissa sat at her dressing table, brushing her hair. She smiled shyly at him. He stepped inside her room and closed the door behind him.

“Do you need help?” he asked.

“No, I’m nearly done.” She brushed a few more times, then methodically worked her hair into a long braid that went down her back. She stood and faced him. She removed her dressing gown, leaving her in nothing but the sheer shift he’d purchased for her. He took in the sight of her.

His mouth went dry.

“Do you like it?” he managed to ask.

“I do, it’s very soft.” She ran her hands down the gossamer fabric, it moved like water across her perfect body. The sheer fabric hugged her curves. “Do you like it?” she asked in return.

He met her gaze. “Indeed. It is why I purchased it for you. I knew you would look stunning in it. I was not wrong.” He took several steps toward her and she met him the rest of the way.

“You will be a good husband to me, Justin,” she said.

Her words echoed through him, words he never thought he’d hear, at least not from her. “I shall try. Every day, I shall try.”

She slid her arms up around his neck. “I thought tonight, I would.” She chewed at her bottom lip. “That is to say, I thought I would take your advice. You asked me once or suggested that you be the man I use my seduction on.” She smiled. “As it turns out you were training me for you.”

“Do your worst, Lady Seductress,” he said. She began working at his buttons of his shirt. Once they were all undone, her warm hands slid across his chest, down his abdomen. The muscles there tightened beneath her touch.

She slid the shirt off his shoulders, down his back and onto the floor. She leaned in, placed a kiss on his chest, her mouth tentative at first and so soft. She grew more brazen with each kiss until she nipped and licked at him. He closed his eyes, focusing in on her every touch. God how he wanted this woman as he’d never wanted another.

Her fingers dipped into the waistband of his trousers ever so slightly. Her mouth found his, slanted across him, her tongue swept across his in an invitation he could not ignore. He kissed her back eliciting a feminine groan from her throat. Her fingers slid lower into his pants, brushing across his erection. Then her hand was gone and she pulled back from the kiss.

“My apologies having never unfastened a gentleman’s trousers before. I should like to see what I’m doing,” she said with an impish grin.

It was a slip, the word she’d used, but it warmed him from the inside.
Gentleman.
Oh, how he’d wish that were true. If only for her, he wished he’d not been a bastard, not been the product of an affair so he could offer his sweet Chrissy a good name.

She unfastened his pants and slid them down his legs, then worked on his undergarments until he stood before her without a stitch of clothing. “I should like you on the bed now,” she said boldly.

“Indeed.” He followed her orders.

“Now then, tonight I believe I shall have my way with you.”

“I am but a vessel for you to enjoy,” he said.

Her eyebrows rose. She climbed up on the bed with him, still wearing the nightrail he’d purchased her. It moved flawlessly with her, flowing over her body like translucent silk.

“I like this,” she said, trailing her fingers along the hair that started at his chest and tapered down his stomach. “It is like a map.”

He chuckled. But as she bent and kissed along the trail, his laughter died in his throat. She was his. His and only his. Her fingers shimmied up his legs lightly all the while her hot mouth blazed kisses across his abdomen.

“Chrissy, you’re torturing me,” he groaned.

“Patience. I am the seductress.”

Then her mouth was on him, lightly at first, explorative. But when she took the length of him, he grabbed the sheets. Again and again she brought him closer to the edge. Then she stopped. She slid her body up his, the soft fabric tickled across his skin.

“I fear I have loosed a monster.”

She laughed. She met his gaze. “Perhaps. I do hope you don’t mind.”

“Never.”

Then she sat astride him. She pulled the nightrail off her body, tossing it onto the floor. Her breasts begged for touch. She settled herself on him, without allowing him entrance. The moisture from her desire slid against his erection. She moved against him, her eyes fluttered closed and she tilted her head back.

Damnation if she wasn’t testing his restraint. His hands cupped her breasts and she moaned in response. Her release hit quickly, her eyes shot open and she cried out. Then just as quickly, she sat up and slid herself down on top of him.

She was impossibly wet. Tight. Warm.

There was no hesitation in her movements. She took what she wanted and gave him more in return. He felt his release building. So when she climaxed again, he let go, spilling himself inside her.

His and only his.

She moved to lay next to him, her head nuzzling on his chest.

“I don’t think you need any more lessons.”

She laughed. “I had a most excellent teacher.”

They were quiet for several moments before she spoke again. “Did you know there was a group of French nobles who took refuge here in the late 1840s during the revolution?”

“Am I now to endure a history lesson?”

Clarissa moved so her chin rested on his chest and she could see his face. “Quite the contrary. I thought you would find that of personal interest.”

“And why is that?” He braced his arms behind his head.

“You are seven and twenty, are you not?” When he nodded, she continued. “Then you would have been conceived sometime in 1848, about the time the French visitors were here.”

“Clarissa, what are you talking about?”

His use of her given name meant she’d gotten his attention and not necessarily in a good way. “Your mother. Don’t you think she was probably one of them?”

He shook his head. “No, my parents met in Paris.”

She frowned. She’d been so certain after speaking with Lady Forrester. “How do you know that?”

“I was told that.”

“But don’t you think it’s possible whoever told you that didn’t tell you the truth? It’s far too much of a coincidence that so many of them were here during that very time. I know where they stayed too.”

“Why are you doing this?” he asked, all manner of flirtations and his easy nature gone.

She dipped her finger in the divot right below his throat. “I merely want to help you find your mother.”

“Yes, but why?”

She sighed. “You endeavored to put yourself out here, in Society, to help me and my situation,” she added quietly. “Then you rushed in and married me when I made an utter fool of myself. It is the very least I can do.” She looked up at him. “Plus, I know what it is like to not know your own mother.”

He sighed. “Where?”

“Manchester House.”

He stood from the bed, retrieved his clothes. “I shall look into matters.” And just like that he strode from her room, entering the door that adjoined hers to his. It closed behind him.

She’d effectively seduced him and then just as effectively, it seemed, built a wall between them. She rolled over on her back. Why was she doing this? To prove to everyone that he was just a worthy as they were to bear a title. She wanted everyone to see him as she saw him, not as a bastard, but as a true gentleman. A man full of honor and character.