A Little Bit Wicked (4 page)

“We shall do anything to help,” Lena said. She grabbed Clarissa’s hand. “You should have written to me sooner.”

Clarissa shook her head. “It is nothing. Truly.”

“Miss March has assured us this little dinner party will assist in diverting everyone’s attention,” Marcus said.

Lena’s expression lit her eyes. “Miss March? Vivian March? How delightful.”

“You know Miss March?” Marcus asked.

“Indeed. A finer woman you couldn’t find if you searched all of London,” Lena said. “It promises to be a most entertaining evening.”

Chapter Four

Vivian washed her face with the tepid water from the pitcher and changed into a lovely dress the color of rich sable. Based on Vivian’s instructions, her maid pulled her hair into a loose coiffure so that soft curls framed her face. Aunt Lillian had always said it looked pretty like this, simple and feminine. But it did beg the question, for whom did Vivian need to look pretty?

Marcus Kincaid’s handsome face flashed into her mind. With his unfashionably long hair and a face that always looked a little in need of a shave, he was ridiculously handsome. She rolled her eyes. And his handsomeness, ridiculous or not, had absolutely no relevance to her life.

She reached up to fiddle with her hair and the metal pins pinched as she tightened them. She had been disciplined for far too long to allow one man to tempt her into ignoring everything she’d worked so hard for. Yet, since his kiss the day before, she’d been walking around much like a lost goose, so distracted was she.

And she had actually not required him to remind her of their original kiss. In the last ten years there had been many nights that she’d gone to sleep replaying every second of the blasted thing. Now she had another by which to compare. They were different in many ways. Their fist kiss had been a surprise. She’d kissed him and he’d merely accepted what she’d given, but it had been the kiss of a young man. This time, though, it had been controlled, deliberate, and full of simmering heat. But the kisses had had one very disturbing thing in common—her damned reaction. She sighed.

“Begging your pardon, ma’am, am I doing something wrong?” her maid asked.

“No, sorry, I’m merely distracted.” She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. “I think that will be all for tonight. Thank you.” The girl stepped out and Vivian stared at herself. Her dress was lovely and modestly cut so as to not reveal too much of her ample curves. Admittedly, her hair did look pretty, but what did it truly matter? She was of an age that made it less important to be attractive. She was quite certain that she was almost old enough to start wearing stuffed birds in her hat plumage. Even Marcus had inquired as to her age and she’d foolishly told him—as if it were any of his concern.

For whatever reason, she seemed to do and say plenty around Marcus that went against her better judgment. She would have to be vigilant and focused. Tonight was about introducing him as the earl, so she couldn’t very well ignore him, but she needed to keep as many people around them as possible. It was imperative that she not be alone with the man lest she make any other foolish mistakes.

Vivian took a deep breath and stepped into the parlor that lay adjacent to her dining room. Already many of her guests had arrived and she smiled broadly to welcome them. Her aunt sat in her favorite chair with her tabby curled up behind her. Two of Rose’s matronly friends sat near her and they visited quietly. A man she did not know stood near the hearth, a glass in his hand. He nodded to her and she smiled in return. That must be Mr. Rodale. She stepped toward him. He was handsome in an almost wild sort of way, with hair as black as ink and eyes equally as dark. His complexion spoke of perhaps a French or other European heritage; he wasn’t nearly as pale as most Englishmen. His smile was genuine, though, as he walked to meet her.

“Miss March, I presume,” he said.

“Indeed, and I suppose you are Mr. Rodale. So very kind of you to join us this evening,” she said. Her invitation to him had not been as explicit as it could have been. She’d opted to try and be coy and then proceed with additional details if the moment called for it. But she’d merely invited him to welcome his old friend, Marcus Kincaid, as he made his first public appearance as the Earl of Ashford.

“Thank you for inviting me,” he said.

“Of course. Any friend of Lord Ashford’s is a friend of mine,” she said.

“Is that so?” a decidedly male voice asked from behind her.

Her blood warmed at his presence, which annoyed her more than a little. “My lord,” she said as she turned to face him. Had she not been careful, her breath would have caught at the sight of him. He was dashing. More than dashing in a black tailored suit that only served to enhance his broad shoulders and showcase his long legs. Tonight, he was clean-shaven, and the absence of even a hint of whiskers only served to bring attention to his firm jaw and perfectly curved lips. There was simply no reason for a man to be that attractive. But it wasn’t merely his handsomeness. Mr. Rodale was just as dashing, perhaps even more so, with his dark, exotic features, yet she certainly wasn’t reacting to him the way she did to Marcus.

“Miss March, you look lovely,” he said. His blue eyes trailed the length of her, and settled back on her face. He could not have warmed her more had he inspected her with his hands. She felt her cheeks flame and she swallowed hard.

“Justin, good of you to join us. It’s been a while,” he said to Mr. Rodale. They exchanged handshakes.

“It has been. Too long,” Justin said. “Though I admit I was surprised to be included on the guest list.”

Marcus eyed Vivian. “I may be the earl now, but the thought of being surrounded by stodgy aristocrats, exclusively, was enough to give me hives.”

“You are a stodgy aristocrat, are you not?” Justin asked.

“Aristocrat, perhaps, but stodgy? Never,” Marcus said with a grin.

“I am most eager to hear of your adventures,” Justin said. “I have no doubt you have many stories you could share.” He leaned closer to them. “Primarily the humorous ones about English buffoons making asses of themselves.” His dark eyes fell on Vivian. “My apologies, Miss March, it is not often that I am invited to attend polite society. Perhaps now we know why.”

“No need for the apology, sir. It is not the first time I’ve heard a curse, and will not likely be the last.” She nodded to the men. “If you’ll both excuse me, I have other guests I need to welcome.”

She made her way over to Clarissa and the couple standing behind her. She knew Marcus and Clarissa’s cousin, Lena, from school, but it had been a long while since she’d spoken to her, though they had seen one another on occasion at balls over the last several years.

“I do not understand why he had to be invited,” Clarissa said quietly when Vivian reached her side.

“He’s charming, and a friend of your brother’s. Remember, that is why you were speaking with him. Besides, perhaps this will give you another opportunity to discuss your friend’s debts. Though you would obviously want to be quite discreet.” She watched Clarissa’s eyes soften, and Vivian knew she had said the right thing to convince the girl of the plan. She squeezed her arm encouragingly. “All will be well, Clarissa. You don’t need to spend the entire evening with him. We merely want to establish you as family friends. So do try to be pleasant.”

Clarissa nodded. “I don’t suppose you took my suggestion to invite George?” she asked, her eyes scanning the room.

“I did not. We already had a full table, and I suspect you see enough of him at your regular parties. Tonight we have the opportunity to meet some new people. You will have a lovely time, I promise. Now let me say hello to your cousins.”

“Vivian,” Lena said, as Vivian guided Clarissa over to the other woman.

Vivian smiled at the tall, slender redhead. “Lena, how wonderful it is to see you. Until yesterday, I did not realize you were a cousin to the Kincaids. How lovely of you to join us this evening.”

They embraced, and the smooth silkiness of Lena’s dress against Vivian’s hand reminded her of her own dress’s sensible style. Lena’s rich, plum-colored dress fit her perfectly and flounced in all the latest fashion, with its square neckline and ruffled skirt. The satin beautifully complimented her alabaster skin.

There was a time when Vivian had dressed in the height of fashion. She could certainly afford it. But in the last several years she’d instructed her
modiste
to cut her dresses along more modest lines. She was a confirmed spinster. There was no need to bring attention to her breasts or hips. Her clothes were still attractive and made of nice fabrics, but without all the ornaments that most women preferred.

“I don’t believe you’ve ever officially met my dear husband.” Lena pulled the slightly rotund, balding man to her side. “This is my Henry.” She kissed him on the cheek. “Darling, this is Vivian March. She has an impeccable reputation as the very best lady in town.”

“A pleasure, Miss March,” he said.

Vivian noted the genuine look of kindness etched on his round face. They were not a particularly attractive couple, but a well put-together couple. When standing next to each other, their love shone so brightly it made up for any aesthetic shortcomings.

Once upon a time she had thought she had found a love match such as theirs, but she’d been a fool. Now she knew the truth, both from her own experience and from sweeping London’s secrets beneath plush parlor rugs for the last several years, that love was exceptionally rare.

The four of them visited a few additional moments, mostly discussing the recent rains, and then dinner was announced. Vivian had spent a great deal of time fussing over where everyone would sit at her sixteen-place table. She had carefully placed each guest so that the maximum amount of conversation could be had to keep gossip at a minimum. One of those arrangements had been to seat Clarissa next to Mr. Rodale, something she knew would greatly annoy Clarissa, but it was something that had to be done. If it appeared to those in attendance tonight that the two of them had been acquaintances for a number of years because of her brother, then it would ease people’s concerns as to why she’d been in such a place of ill repute.

Clarissa shot her a glare as they were seated. Vivian pretended to misinterpret and merely smiled back. She had been quite strategic for herself, though, and had placed Marcus as far away from her as possible. Instead, she’d put Mr. Rodale next to her, then Clarissa after him and on her other side, Vivian had seated Lena’s husband.

It was an interesting mixture, this dinner party, but tonight would be a success. Already she knew the matrons, as well as the misses she’d included, had warmed to Mr. Rodale’s handsome face and charming demeanor. He might not be a nobleman, but he certainly knew how to converse with them. Vivian had done her research and knew fundamental information about him. He was the illegitimate son of the Duke of Chanceworth, though now his half-brother held that title. But he’d been educated with the rest of the aristocrats, had gone to Cambridge, and then Justin Rodale had used his education and contacts to build the most opulent and profitable gaming establishment in all of London.

But Marcus was all the rage. The ladies flirted with him while the men exchanged jests. This was a small portion of London’s elite, but she had strategically selected the attendees knowing full well they’d pass on the details of the night the most effectively. So far, things were going precisely as she’d planned.

Once the first course was served the questions for Marcus began. “Oh, do tell us about your most recent adventure, Lord Ashford,” Lady Aldridge asked.

“Or, better still, tell us the most dangerous,” Viscount Danford suggested.

All eyes were on Marcus, but his locked on hers. “Very well, I’ll tell a few stories, but I do not wish to take away from Miss March. This is her party.”

“In your honor, my lord,” she said with a nod. “People came to welcome you back to London. They want to hear your stories.”

Marcus couldn’t help but notice how far he sat from the illustrious Miss March. He was no fool. She’d put him over here on purpose. Of course, she’d also seated him near two of the most notorious gossips in all of London, at least according to Aunt Maureen. All it had taken was a couple of well-placed compliments and smiles, and they were both fawning all over him. Some women were so easy, too easy, while others proved to be quite the challenge.

He eyed his hostess down the length of the table and she smiled. They wanted him to tell his stories. She’d been right. This was precisely what she’d said they would do. He settled on which story to tell and cleared his throat. “We took a group, a small group, mostly men, to Africa. They had wanted to see all the exotic animals. There we were all in a handful of boats traveling down the Tana River, and crocodiles were everywhere, sunning themselves on the muddy banks and swimming beside the boats.”

“That sounds positively terrifying,” Lady Forrester said. She placed her hand on Marcus’s arm. “However did you manage to be so brave?”

“We were well armed.” That got him a round of laughs. He caught Vivian’s glance and she gave him a small nod of reassurance.

“Go on, then,” Viscount Danford said.

“We were getting closer to where we would camp for the night and then we saw them.” He shook his head for emphasis. “Serious danger.”

“What sort of danger?” Lord Forrester asked.

“Was it a lion?” Clarissa asked. Marcus eyed his sister, momentarily surprised she too was curious about the expedition. It was the first time since his return that she’d looked at him with an expression other than one filled with resentment.

“No, I’ll bet it was a particularly large crocodile,” Lady Garner said before Marcus could answer.

“Worse,” Marcus said. “Bubbles came up to the surface of the river, all around us.” He used his hands to demonstrate, as if they all sat in a boat instead of at a table in an opulent dining room. “We were surrounded.”

“By bubbles?” Viscount Danford asked.

“Hippopotamus,” Marcus said.

One of the younger ladies giggled. “But they’re so cute with their little ears. I’ve seen pictures of them. At the museum.”

“Cute, perhaps,” Marcus said, holding up one finger. “But deadly. They’re vicious and we were surrounded.”

“Oh dear, however did you get out?” Lady Forrester asked.

Marcus shrugged. “We tossed over a particularly annoying fellow to engage them, then the rest of us paddled as fast as we could.”