A Little Bit Sinful(8)

“Yes.”

“It was Rebecca.”

“Charles’s wife?”

“I wouldn’t think you would remember her,” she said with a smile. “Yes, she was like a mother to me, and shortly before she fell ill, we were at a party. It was my first Season and she was trying to teach me all about how to find the right sort of husband. She pointed out George, said he was handsome, polite, and he stood to inherit a title.”

“Did she point any other men out that night?”

She considered for a moment, trying to bring that night to the front of her memory. Rebecca had always been so wise. Clarissa trusted her judgment above all others. “Well, yes, but I suspect she knew something about George. Could see it in his eyes perhaps. That’s what she used to say about Charles. That’s how she knew she would marry him. She could see it in his eyes.”

Justin was quiet a few moments as they looked at the pair of harpsichords in front of them.

“Are you going to answer my question now?” she asked.

“I went to your townhome and your butler said this is where I could find you. So I came here.”

“But why?”

“To see you. Is that not enough?”

She wanted to tell him that no, in fact, that was not enough, but she was too flustered to inquire further. She fell quiet again as they walked the room. They continued on until they reached the Beethoven manuscript. She stopped and stared at the parchment. The hand scrawled notes, the words beneath. The music played in her head, her hands tapped against her skirts, hitting each key perfectly. She sighed. What must it be like to have music inside of you in such a way?

They had reached the last exhibit hall. Several people poured in behind them, one of whom was a notorious gossip, the very lady who had told everyone about Clarissa’s late night visit to Justin’s gaming hell.

“Oh no,” Clarissa said. Even though the “scandal” had been smoothed over, Clarissa was in no mood to speak to the old bitty.

“What?”

“Lady Jessup.” She looked around them and saw that the end of the manuscript room was a short and darkened corridor that led to a door. She grabbed Justin’s hand and pulled him quickly into the darkness. She pressed herself against the wall and pulled him to her, effectively hiding her body.

“Who is Lady Jessup?” he whispered.

“Her husband is the one who saw me at Rodale’s,” Clarissa explained. “If she sees me,” she shook her head. “I panicked, I merely didn’t wish to speak to her.”

“I believe you’ve put yourself in an even worse situation. If you’re discovered here hiding in the dark with me, you’ll certainly be ruined,” he said with a devilish grin.

She popped him on the arm. “Stop enjoying this. It’s quite serious.”

“The only way you’ll be ruined is if someone sees your face.”

“Well, I can’t very well hide my face.” She tried to look out into the exhibit hall to see if the woman was still there, but they were so far into the darkened corridor, she couldn’t see.

“No, but I can.” He leaned down and kissed her.

His lips were softer than she was anticipating. His hand cradled her neck, and for the briefest of moments, Clarissa forgot everything. Forgot who she was, who she was supposed to be, and most certainly where they were. Instead, she focused on the brush of his lips against hers, the tender way he held her. Her eyes fluttered closed and she clutched her hands to his arms.

He deepened the kiss and she slid her arms up around his neck, perfectly contented to be kissing here in this darkened corridor without a notion of who could be watching them.

The voices in the exhibit area faded and Justin pulled back. “I think everyone has left that hall,” he said.

Clarissa blinked up at him. “Thank you.”

He grinned. “You need not thank me for that.”

…

Good heavens.

Now as she and Aunt Maureen sat in the carriage traveling home, Clarissa’s knees were still a bit shaky from Justin’s kiss. Maureen was rattling on about something that had occurred at the museum, but all Clarissa could think about was that kiss. Luckily no one had seen them. The room had been completely empty when they’d stepped out of the darkened corridor. Still, the thought of being caught in Justin’s arms shot a thrill of excitement though her body.

Her lips still tingled. She brought a finger to them, but they didn’t feel any different to the touch. Did they, perhaps, appear different? She smiled at her aunt, but the woman didn’t seem to notice, merely continued talking.