A Little Bit Wicked (2 page)

Marcus shoved off the mantel and walked toward Miss March. “
This
is a family affair. And whether or not the women in my family approve or not, I am part of this family. You were called here to help us. If my sister refuses to cooperate, then I’ll tell you what happened. The chit was seen talking to the owner of a gaming establishment.”

Miss March nodded, and while she looked at him while he spoke, her body was still angled toward where Maureen and Clarissa sat.

He turned to his sister. “Were you sitting in the carriage, or standing on the street?”

“On the street,” she said, her eyes locked on tea tray in front of her.

Miss March patted Clarissa’s knee. She was quiet for a few moments, then took another sip of her tea. “Yes, well, I can see why we have a potential problem. Do you know, perhaps, who saw you? That is, who brought this matter to your attention?” she asked Clarissa.

“Lady Jessup informed me at a card party yesterday,” Aunt Maureen said.

“Well, I can only guess it was her husband who saw you then, Clarissa. Lord Jessup is a horrific gambler and an even worse gossip. Chances are that other people know now. So it would seem that you definitely have a potentially damaging situation on your hands.” She came to her feet.

Aunt Maureen stood as well. “Will you help us?”

“I shall consider it this evening and will be in touch tomorrow morning.” She straightened her gloves and patted her hair.

“Is that all?” Marcus asked, not quite certain what he’d been expecting. But a woman who came, sipped tea, confirmed that yes indeed, they were in trouble, then fled, was not precisely the big solution he’d been waiting for.

“I must consider the situation,” she said.

“I’ll walk you out,” he said.

“That truly won’t be necessary.” Miss March made her way to the door.

Marcus followed her regardless of her dismissive tone. He took her cloak from the butler. “I’m offended that you would pretend not to remember me.” He held the cloak away from her, forcing her to turn and look in his direction.

She looked up at him, her warm brown eyes meeting his gaze. “I beg your pardon?” she said, her voice full of innocence.

So it was a game she intended to play. Well, a game he would give her.

He draped the cloak over her shoulders, then bent to her ear. “Just remember that I know the truth. I know you are not the paragon people believe you to be.” There was a sharp intake of her breath. “Until tomorrow, Miss March.”

Chapter Two

Who did he think he was? Vivian wondered as she settled herself in the carriage seat.

Of course she remembered him. Heavens, she could never forget Marcus Kincaid, and now he was back. Not only back in London, but back in her life, it would seem.

She shivered as she remembered his warm breath across her neck and shoulder as he’d wrapped her in her cloak. She remembered much more. His kiss. His embrace. That night had changed the course of her life forever. The night that Frederick had broken her heart and she realized she had become a fallen woman. She had worked tirelessly the past ten years to forget that evening, but it seemed that some mistakes could not be left behind.

Marcus Kincaid hadn’t changed, except that he’d clearly become more of a man. His hair was longer, and the hint of a beard had shaded his cheeks and chin. His lovely blue eyes were as pretty as she remembered, though they held a bit of worldliness now. He was larger too, broader, and more masculine than he’d been a decade before.

And he’d thought to threaten her. She would never have agreed to the meeting had she known he’d returned.

Nevertheless, she was a woman of virtue now and nothing would change that, and she’d be damned if she allowed him to destroy all she’d worked for. He had certainly put her in a predicament. She might not have been interested in aligning herself with Lord Ashford and the Kincaid family, but he’d given her no choice in the matter. She wasn’t certain he’d been making a threat, but he did know things about her no one else knew. So she
would
be aligning herself with the Kincaid family, after all. Therefore, the first thing she needed was a plan to make Clarissa’s scandal disappear, and then a second plan to make certain Vivian didn’t have to spend more time with Lord Ashford than was absolutely necessary.

Instead of attending the soiree she had dressed for, she instructed her driver to return her to her townhouse. She had scarcely entered the front door when her Aunt Rose called to her from the blue parlor. The last time she’d seen Marcus Kincaid, she’d come home distraught. That night she’d fallen apart in front of both of her aunts. It had been nearly six years since Aunt Lillian had passed. So much had changed since then. Primarily, Vivian had changed. Despite the way she felt at the moment, she didn’t have the luxury to fall apart. She prided herself on maintaining control at all times. Yet, one conversation with Marcus Kincaid and she felt all heated and flustered.

“Vivian, why are you home so early?” Aunt Rose asked.

Vivian took a sobering breath and stepped into the parlor. She found her aunt sitting at her writing table, stacking her playing cards into a complex tower.

“Would you allow me to retreat to my room if I simply complained of a headache?” Vivian asked.

Aunt Rose looked at her above her spectacles as if considering the offer. “No. Now, spill it.” She removed her glasses and turned to face her niece. “Tell me what has happened with the Ashford family.”

Vivian peeled off her gloves, then waved one of them dismissively. “The typical trouble a young woman would find herself in. Naturally, there’s a man involved, though I’ll admit she has some panache.” Vivian took a seat on the gold upholstered settee. “I shall have to have a private conversation with her at some point to get the full truth of the situation, but it would seem she had some manner of rendezvous with the owner of a gaming hell.”

“Brazen. Or foolish,” Rose said.

“Indeed.”

“But that is not what troubles you.”

“No, I don’t suppose it is.” Vivian steeled herself before speaking. There was no need to panic. She had prepared for ten years for his return, knowing full well that eventually he would and she would see him. But it wasn’t his return that was troublesome. It was the thought that if he could return, then so could Frederick, and she did not think there would ever be enough time to prepare her for that reunion. For now, though, she merely had to manage the man she’d kissed by accident.

“Marcus Kincaid is back. He has taken his place as the new earl.”

Rose nodded gravely. “A little late. His brother was buried months ago, was he not?”

“Yes. The family was unable to reach Marcus because of the nature of his travels.”

“His return bothers you.” Rose pulled off her spectacles and wiped them methodically on her sleeve.

“And you think it should not?” When Rose nodded, Vivian continued. “Aunt, I kissed him, if you recall. Quite brazenly. All the while fully believing him to be another man.”

Rose waved her spectacles in front of her, then replaced them on her nose. “Yes, but it has been years. I should think he would have forgotten, especially now that he is so worldly. Did he even remember you?”

Vivian eyed her aunt looking for signs of jesting, but found none. “He does remember. He didn’t say anything specifically about the kiss. Instead, he tossed out a remark about knowing that I’m not the paragon people believe me to be. He remembered me.”

“Well, you’ve never cared for that ridiculous nickname,” Rose said.

She did hate the moniker, but without it all her work would be for naught. People trusted her. They believed her to be the very pinnacle of propriety, and in that belief lay all of her power, all of her ability to manipulate the truth and hide one scandal after another. Were it not for her, London society would be the tenth circle in Dante’s
Divine Comedy
. So she might not prefer the name she’d been given, but it was necessary for the service she provided. “Quite true. Still, it is somewhat embarrassing to see him again after all these years.”

“For something you did ten years ago? Pish-posh, every woman is allowed one indiscretion. He was yours. You are older and wiser now. There is no need to spend another moment thinking about a little kiss.”

True, but it had been a kiss to end all kisses, despite the fact that she’d thought she’d been kissing someone else. Still, the one moment she’d shared with Marcus Kincaid had most assuredly been memorable—and not simply because it was the beginning of the worst night of her life.

She had never told her aunts the full truth of the situation. They’d known she’d kissed Marcus by mistake and that Frederick had left her. But she’d kept her affair with Frederick a secret. Of course she’d waited to see if she’d been carrying Frederick’s child, knowing she might have to tell them what had happened, but that had never come to pass. She knew her aunts would have loved her regardless of the situation, but the shame still ate at her, so she’d kept the full truth to herself. And that affair, if discovered, could simply ruin her.

“I suppose I shouldn’t have pretended to not remember him. Perhaps I wounded his pride and that was why he threatened me,” Vivian said.

“Oh yes, men do not manage such injuries well. So what will you do?”

“I have no choice. I will take on Miss Kincaid’s scandal and clear her path. Hopefully she’ll be married by the end of the Season and no one will be the wiser.”

…

Vivian was shown into the very same parlor where she’d met the Kincaid family the night before. It was early afternoon and she’d carefully drafted a plan to douse this scandal before too much damage was caused. It would take their entire family, though, so she’d need everyone’s cooperation.

A moment later the two women, Maureen and Clarissa, entered the room.

“Is Lord Ashford not in?” Vivian asked. She immediately chided herself for sounding disappointed that she would not see him. What did it matter if she saw him or not? Who cared if she’d stayed up half the evening preparing a speech to give him on why it was important for his sister’s sake that no one know the truth about the incident they’d shared several years before?

“He is here,” Clarissa said with an unladylike roll of her eyes. “He’s merely taking his own leisurely time in coming downstairs.”

“Clarissa,” Maureen chided. “Mind yourself.”

Clarissa nodded. “My apologies.”

“It is of no matter to me,” Vivian said. “I suspect it is quite difficult to welcome a brother who has been gone for so much of your life. He is but a stranger to you, is he not?” It was none of her business to pry, but she was here to help the family, and that gave her some privilege to their private information.

“Precisely. I do not know him.” Clarissa sat on the settee near Vivian. “And he does not know me.”

“Well, that will change if we are to make this little problem of yours disappear.” Vivian patted the girl’s hand. “Now then, why don’t we discuss more of what occurred that day with the man outside of the gaming hell, and then I shall detail my plan.”

“You are taking the job, as it were?” a masculine voice asked from the doorway.

She looked up to see Lord Ashford leaning against the doorjamb. He cut a fine figure standing there with a casual air about him. His too-long hair should make him appear unkempt and slovenly, but instead it gave him an air of rebellion and danger that only increased his attractiveness. His black jacket hugged his broad shoulders nicely, and Vivian immediately found it vastly annoying that she had noticed any of that.

“My lord,” she said curtly. He raised his eyebrows and she realized she had not answered his question. “Yes—that is, yes, I shall be assisting your family in this situation.”

He nodded, but made no move to enter the room.

She turned her attention away from him and forced herself to look at Clarissa. “I will need more details about what specifically you were doing at that gaming establishment. It is not in a neighborhood where ladies tend to venture. What were you doing there, really?”

Clarissa shrugged. “I had important matters to discuss with Mr. Rodale.”

“You sought him out?” Vivian asked.

“I did. ”

“Rodale?” Marcus asked. “As in Justin Rodale?”

“Yes,” Clarissa said.

“You know him?” Vivian asked Marcus.

“I do. We went to Cambridge together. We were mates. He had been to the house. Clarissa would have met him, though that would have been years ago. I did not realize he owned a gambling establishment,” Marcus said, then shrugged. “But I have been out of the country for a while.”

“What matters could you possibly have to discuss with the owner of a gaming hell?” Maureen asked, clearly exasperated, as if this were a matter they’d been over before.

Vivian watched Clarissa’s mouth work as she waged an internal war on what to say. The girl was not ready to talk, but what went on in that meeting was vital information if Vivian was to keep her reputation intact.

“Clarissa, I understand your reluctance to speak, but it really is imperative that I have all the details. I can assure you, you have my pledge that I shall guard your secret as closely as I would one of my own.” It was what she told all of her clients, and though they never bothered to consider whether she actually had any secrets, she meant what she said. Their secrets were all she had to hide her own private scandal.

Clarissa nodded. “I went to see Mr. Rodale about a friend’s debts. I wanted to pay them.”

“Clarissa, what money do you have to pay for such a thing?” Aunt Maureen asked.

Clarissa shrugged and gave a half smile. “How many hair ribbons does a woman need? I’ve put money aside for a while on the off chance I would need some.”

“Who is this friend?” Vivian asked.

“George Wilbanks. He has been a friend for many years.”

“She is sweet on the boy,” Aunt Maureen said.

Vivian saw no reason to comment. Inwardly, she cringed for Clarissa, wanting to warn her about setting her cap for a man who would allow a woman to pay his gambling debts, but that was for another day. “And did you pay his debts?” she asked.

Clarissa sat straighter, inspected her fingernails, then folded her hands in her lap. “I did not. Mr. Rodale was quite difficult—boorish, if you ask me—about the entire matter. He didn’t want to talk to me at all. He kept trying to send me on my way, but I was rather insistent. It was not an overly long conversation, and ultimately I left unable to settle the debts. He lied and told me George did not have any debts. That he was, in fact, a frequent guest at the establishment, but that he had had a run of good luck lately and did not have any outstanding debts.”

Vivian saw something flicker in Clarissa’s blue eyes, eyes very similar to her brother’s. It seemed as though the girl were angry. “Why is it that you believe him to be lying to you?”

“He was clearly lying. George specifically told me it was that hell where he had lost such a large sum. If the debt is paid, why does it matter from where the funds come?” Clarissa frowned, then shook her head. “I tried to give George the money directly to pay off the debt, but he refused, which is why I went to see Mr. Rodale myself. I thought since he and Marcus had been friends, he might remember me and we would be able to work out an agreement.”

Vivian watched a moment longer, knowing that Mr. Rodale would probably have a different story to tell, but she would reserve judgment on whether or not she would need to pay him a visit as well. “Well, that certainly clarifies matters for me. So your virtue remains intact. You merely had a conversation in an inappropriate place, but with a man who could be considered a friend of the family,” Vivian said. “Now, before I go into detail as to how we will handle this situation, I need you all to agree that you will stand by Clarissa no matter what happens. We must present a united front.”

“You sound like an army general.” Marcus shoved off the door and finally stepped into the room. He made his way to a chair and sat, extending his long legs out in front of him. Black trousers encased his legs, but Vivian couldn’t help wondering if they’d be as lean and muscular as she suspected they were.