A Little Bit Sinful(6)

Ella smiled. “Precisely what I was hoping you’d say. I know you’ve spoken so highly of Mr. Bembridge. I was hoping you could set up a meeting between him and my father.”

Clarissa looked down at her cards and tossed one onto the table. “Yes, I’ll see what I can do. He is rather shy, though. Painfully so, I’m told.”

“Haven’t you met him?” Ella asked.

“Not precisely.”

Ella frowned. “Then how did you go about finding him?”

“I saw an advertisement. Can’t recall where though,” she said. She hated lying to her friend, but the truth would be devastating to Clarissa’s reputation.

“I’m not certain my father would hire a solicitor he hadn’t even met,” Ella said.

If Marcus were here and not on his honeymoon, then perhaps he could vouch for Mr. Bembridge enough to convince Ella’s father. What was it about men that they felt they could only trust information if it came from another man? But what other man was there for her to trust with this secret?





Chapter Two


Justin stood at the large window overlooking the gaming hell floor. Rodale’s was full tonight. The card tables were full, as were the dice tables. Over in the far left corner a group of men huddled, cheering and passing the wager book around. At that moment Clipps, Rodale’s assistant manager, stepped into the office.

“What has them so riled up tonight?” Justin asked.

“It would seem that Wilbanks fellow’s father has made a decree that he must marry before the viscount dies. So they’re making wagers on which chit he’ll choose.”

George Wilbanks. The same man Clarissa Kincaid had offered to pay off the debts only two months before, debts that hadn’t even existed. Justin needed to get a look at that wager book, see if Chrissy’s name was on the list. He’d wait until the excitement died down and then go take a peek.

A half an hour later Justin made his way downstairs to check out the wager book. It was filled with all manners of wagers, from what sex Lord Fairfield’s new child would be to whether or not Fiona Miller would ever agree to one of the many proposals she’d received. And then Justin came to the page regarding George Wilbanks’s situation. There was a list of girls, seven of them, and by each name there were stakes and odds, numbers, and projections.

Clarissa’s name was, in fact, on there and she and one other girl were leading in the group. The two most expected to garner marriage proposals from Wilbanks. Justin knew that the entitled made wagers on everything, and among their favorite involved who would marry whom. But he’d never really paid much attention to it. Seemed a silly pastime to him.

Then again, Clarissa Kincaid had never made it on anyone’s list. Justin might not be able to do anything about the wagering, but he could see what he could do to ensure Clarissa didn’t find herself married to the lying ass.

…

The following night Clarissa attended the new exhibit at the Royal Academy of Music Museum. Aunt Maureen had already found a bench to sit upon with a friend of hers so they could “chat instead of milling about in the crowds,” as she’d put it. But Clarissa was eager to see the exhibit, especially the original manuscripts from Beethoven.

Despite the fact that she knew George would not be in attendance,—he had never been much for museums—she had donned her new pink gown. She couldn’t help but wonder where he would go this evening and with whom. Sabrina Richmond had said she’d heard that George had gone riding with Maryann Fields. On more than one occasion. Clarissa knew he danced with other women, but he’d always told her it was to keep up appearances until the time came for him to become engaged. But Maryann Fields was very pretty, and the whole notion of George spending time with her made her uneasy.

As she began walking through the exhibit, she saw several people she knew, but they seemed more interested in gossip than the items up for viewing. She smiled and waved and spoke when necessary, but she kept moving forward. The first thing she came to was the violin collection. The glass case displayed violins across the years, the intricate wood carvings so ornate on some and others plain. She’d never tried to play any other instruments, preferring the piano above all else. But were she to try another, the violin would be the one.

“Good evening, Chrissy,” Justin Rodale’s voice came from behind her.

She looked into the reflection of the glass and saw his tall form behind her. She turned around to face him and had to swallow hard. He looked so very dashing wearing all black except for the bright white of his cravat at his throat. His unfashionably long hair had been pulled to the back and tied in a ribbon at his neck. It had been a couple of months since she’d seen him and he looked devastatingly handsome.