A Little Bit Sinful(39)

Convincing her to come tonight had been easier than he’d first thought it would be. She obviously believed he was wrong about her beloved George, or at least she wanted to continue believing him to be this pinnacle of gentlemanliness that she held him to.

Justin had tried to be discreet and make inquires of the man, but he hadn’t discovered much other than he preferred Rafferty’s and had a penchant for boxing. Clipps following the man had been the only thing that had shed any light on the situation. Justin wondered if Clarissa knew her would-be groom enjoyed a good fight. Or that he chose prostitutes for his evening entertainment?

Once Clarissa saw the man she believed she wanted to marry on the docks at Rafferty’s she might begin to see that George Wilbanks was the very wrong sort of man for her.

…

Clarissa checked once more behind her to ensure no one followed. The darkened stairwell that led to the servant’s entrance in the back of the house was a perfect way to get in and out of the estate. She opened the door and was met with darkness. Justin, true to his word, appeared as if out of nowhere.

“Ready?” he asked.

She took a deep breath. “Yes.” She was determined to prove Justin wrong. George was not the wrong man for her. He couldn’t be the wrong man for her because if she didn’t marry George, who else would pick her? If after all of these years of everyone expecting them to marry and then he picks someone else, then no one would want her. She was already nearly on the shelf, as it were. She was running out of time and had already run out of options. No, she couldn’t explain his reluctance to marry her, but she knew there had to be a reason. A good reason too. So she’d agreed to this journey knowing full well if she got caught, there would be no explaining this one. It was worth the risk. George was worth the risk.

Justin grabbed her hand and pulled her into the darkness in front of them. She should probably feel more fear than she did, but this was no time to question such things. She was on a quest.

They reached the carriage and Justin helped her inside, then followed her and closed the door behind him. He sat across from her, a walking stick rested against the seat next to him. It was an opulent carriage, with plush upholstery and a soft leather finish. His height was even more noticeable in the small confines. His broad shoulders seemed to take up nearly the entire bench across from her and his gloved hand resting on the walking stick looked so big, masculine. That hand had been on her body. Her cheeks heated and she shifted in her seat.

They rumbled down the alleyway behind her family’s townhome.

“So we’re going to the docks, to a place called Rafferty’s?” she asked.

“You had never heard of it, until I mentioned it?” he asked.

“No, of course not. It is not the sort of thing people would discuss in front of a lady.” She pulled back the tiny curtain and peered out the window. London’s darkened streets slowly passed by. “And this is where you say George goes?”

“Yes, several nights a week.”

“What sort of establishment is this Rafferty’s? I mean should I find it sinful that he goes to this place?”

“It’s a gaming hell.”

“Like yours?”

“Not like mine. We share some things. We both offer games with high stakes, as any gambling establishment would, but there are some significant differences. Mine, for instance, is not in a wretched, filthy and dangerous part of town.”

“I’m certain that if this is true, if George goes to this place, then there is a logical explanation,” she said. She crossed her arms over her chest and prayed she was right. She had not been inside of Rodale’s that night she’d stood outside, but she’d seen enough to know that it was opulent, much like this carriage.

Justin had built a massive fortune, and likely had more money than her own family. Arguably George could find whatever he needed at Rodale’s, which begged the question of why he would frequent a gaming establishment on the docks of the Thames where everyone, even genteel ladies, knew that opium was rampant and prostitution was readily available.

“What is it about George?” Justin asked. “Besides Rebecca’s recommendation?”

“We’ve known each other a very long time. He’s a gentleman. We are an excellent match.”

“Yes, an excellent match,” Justin said, then he fell silent for a long time. “You say all of that as if you’ve rehearsed it for a long while. Are Ella and I the only ones who thing George is the wrong choice for you?”