A Little Bit Sinful (3 page)

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 here?” 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.

“We’re doing well. Continuing to increase in profit,” Justin said.

“I’ll dig into them tonight. By the by, looks as if you might have gotten a love letter,” Mr. Clipps said, nodding to the pile of post sitting on his desk. He took a bite of whatever Mrs. Clipps had packed for him that evening.

Justin inhaled. “Is that roast beef?”

The man nodded and mumbled something with his mouth full. “Want some?”

Justin was tempted, it smelled delicious and he knew Mrs. Clipps was an accomplished cook. “No.” He walked over to see what letter the man was talking about. There on the desk amidst other pieces of post—mostly bank notes and the like paying off debts—sat an envelope addressed, not to Rodale’s, but rather directly to Mr. Justin Rodale. The penmanship was decidedly feminine. He snatched up the envelope.

Mr. Clipps chuckled. “Expecting that one, were you?”

“No, merely curious.” He’d be a liar if he said he didn’t hope that this letter gave him some information about the identity of his mother. He had searched for so long, had sent out so many inquiries and followed so many leads that had, in the end, led to nothing but disappointment. But he wouldn’t need to utter that hope aloud even though Clipps had been with him through most of his search.

Justin went and sat at his own desk and opened the envelope. It was an invitation to have dinner with Marcus and Vivian when they returned to London the following day. A pleasant surprise, but certainly not the one he’d been hoping for. He ignored the surge of disappointment that shuttered through him.

“So what does the lady have to say?” Mr. Clipps asked after Justin dropped the parchment onto his desk.

“It is an invitation for dinner.”

Clipps’ eyebrows rose. “More invitations to join into proper Society. Too bad your damned father isn’t alive to see it,” he said.

“Yes, too bad.” He glanced back at the invitation knowing this meant he’d get to see Clarissa in a more formal setting. But it did beg the question as to whether or not Clarissa arrange for her beau to be there too?

Justin knew, though, that while George did frequent his establishment, he played billiards and the occasional game of hazard, and he was always lucky. He might have debts somewhere else, but certainly not at Rodale’s.

Perhaps that was the truth. Perhaps Wilbanks gambled more heavily at a less reputable hell and he hadn’t wanted to tell her the truth. Either way, Justin would wager Wilbanks never expected Clarissa to attempt to pay his debts on her own.

Over the years, even though he no longer had a connection to her family, he’d followed the gossip about Clarissa Kincaid out of curiosity. Or, more to the point, the absolute lack of gossip. Clarissa’s reputation was as spotless as a chandelier at one of the Ton’s parties. At least, it had been until the moment she’d stepped out of the carriage and onto the doorstep of his gaming hell. No one could have predicted she would do something so reckless. So brazen. But Vivian March, now Vivian Kincaid, had worked her particular form of magic and salvaged Clarissa’s reputation. Of course, that was unless someone had seen her arrive at his townhome earlier that evening. He’d wager not, she’d kept herself pretty well hidden in that cloak.

“Clipps, I want you to find out what you can on George Wilbanks.”

“Interesting,” Clipps said. He absently rubbed at the thick stubble on his chin.

“In what way?”

Clipps shrugged. “I thought we were done with that issue. You see Lady Blue-eyes again?”

Justin couldn’t help but smile. “I did. And she is in that wager book downstairs. If the man lied to her once, he’ll likely do it again. I merely want to uncover any other secrets he might have and give her all the information possible so she can decide to marry him knowing his faults as well as his merits. I’m suspicious that he prefers to spend the bulk of his coin at a different establishment. One not as acceptable as ours.”

“Probably right. There are lots of those places willing to take wagers on all manner of things.”

Justin leaned back in his chair and folded his hands across his abdomen. “I want to know everything though. What he plays, who he plays with, how much he wagers, side wagers, all of it.”

“Consider it done.” Clipps nodded, then stood to leave.

“Have you discovered anything about the other matter I asked you to look into?” Justin asked.

Clipps rocked back on his heels. “Another dead end, I’m afraid.”

Justin nodded and Clipps slipped out the door.

“Bloody hell.” Another dead end. This was the third one in the last two months. His father had told him he would never discover his mother’s real identity, and damned if the man hadn’t been right. But Justin refused to give up. The right evidence had to be out there, he merely needed to find it. While he looked into his mother’s identity, he would also do his best to ensure Chrissy was protected from making a huge mistake. Everything Justin knew about George right now indicated he was quite similar to Justin’s father. Selfish and dishonest. The last thing he’d want to see is Chrissy married off to someone like that.

…

The following day Justin decided it was time to pay a call on his half-brother. Some days being the brother of the Duke of Chanceworth had its benefits. The man knew practically everyone in town. While Clipps was looking into what Wilbanks did outside of Rodale’s, Roe might be able to give Justin information as to the man’s reputation in Society.

The ride to Roe’s townhome gave Justin enough time to consider the current situation. What he needed to decide was to what lengths he would go to deter Clarissa’s intent to marry Wilbanks. Distracting her with kisses might only take him so far. It would seem that no matter what the plan it would require him to return once again to proper Society. Ever since Vivian had seen to it that he’d been invited to some parties a couple months before, the invitations continued to arrive. He politely sent declines, but perhaps now he should accept a few.

He glanced up at the townhome before him. Five stories of brown bricks and white arched windows. Justin owned a similar one now, but this one definitely came with memories.

He remembered being a boy in their father’s house. They’d had a ball once when Justin and Roe had been home from school for some reason or another. The duke had coldly instructed Justin to stay upstairs out of sight, since he was not truly a member of their family. The duchess had been mortified, gone to Justin’s defense, but her words had fallen on deaf ears. Justin had spent the evening hiding at the top of the stairs, listening to the music and the party guests laugh. He’d even seen a couple sneak into the darkened spot behind the stairs for some heated kissing.

Normally, he wouldn’t bother to meet his brother here. He didn’t care for the Chanceworth townhome. But, today, they had nothing set up and he needed to speak with him. He knocked and was admitted into the duke’s study to wait for his brother. Justin stood in the room glancing around at all the antiquities their father had collected. The man had been particularly fond of Chinese abacuses, and so there were at least fifteen of them in all different styles and mediums.

The first time Justin had stood in this room he’d been a boy of only twelve, and his mother, or at least the woman who’d raised him, had fallen ill and brought him to live with his father. That had been the same day he’d found out that Eloise Rodale, the woman with whom he’d lived with until that moment, was not his real mother. She’d certainly treated him as a mother would treat a son, loving, yet stern when she’d needed to be.

His father hadn’t been too keen on the bastard son showing up on his doorstep. The duke had been completely prepared to turn the boy out on his own, but the duchess had come in, heard the commotion and come to Justin’s aid. She’d demanded her husband claim him in some capacity and Justin had been welcomed into the home, educated alongside their son, the heir, Monroe. It had taken the death of their father for Roe to be willing to accept him, and Justin couldn’t say he blamed him. He’d been so damned angry with their father, he hadn’t been worth being around when they were younger. It was one of the reasons he’d spent so much time at the Kincaid family’s home, to be around what he’d deemed a happy family.

Roe stepped into the room. “Damnation, Rodale, how many times must I tell you not to come this bloody early in the morning?”

Roe was disheveled. There was no other word to describe him. His shirt was undone, he wore no waistcoat, and he hadn’t bothered to put on shoes. Red lines cobwebbed across his eyes indicating he’d once again had an extremely late night.

Justin chuckled. “Dear brother, it is nearly noon, that hardly constitutes as being bloody early. Perhaps if you would go to sleep before sunrise you might be more amenable to the daylight hours.”

Roe tossed himself down on the sofa and glared at his brother. “Yes, but it is in those late hours that the best players come out. I cannot abide to play
Vingt-et-un
with those who aren’t skilled, you know that.”

Justin sat in the wing-backed chair adjacent to the sofa. “Yes, I do know that. Did you win?”

He stacked his bare feet on the occasional table in front of the sofa. “Of course, I always win,” Roe said with a lazy shrug. He leaned his head back and closed his eyes. “Now, to what do I owe the honor of your intrusion?”

“What do you know of George Wilbanks?” There was no need to be anything but direct when it came to communicating with his brother.

Roe cracked open one eye. “What do want with him?”

“Curiosity, Roe, humor me.”

“Very well, let me see, George Wilbanks.” Roe puffed out a breath. “His father, the Viscount, is older than Christ, but the man refuses to die thus leaving George to survive on a regulated allowance. The old man must be approaching eighty, yet he still thrives in Parliament.”

“And George is annoyed that his father won’t die?”

Roe chuckled. “I suppose he is. Honestly, I don’t know George well. He doesn’t play
Vingt-et-un
, prefers billiards, I believe.” Roe was quiet for a moment, then nodded. “Oh, and I believe I heard once that he enjoys boxing.”

“He plays billiards when he goes to Rodale’s,” Justin said.

“You do not offer boxing.”

“True. It’s a risky form of wagering. Giving them permission to beat each other in one room encourages them to do so in the other rooms.” Justin shook his head. “No boxing at Rodale’s.”

“Of course not.” Roe bracketed his hands behind his head and looked at Justin.