A Little Bit Wicked (11 page)

“You are beautiful,” he said.

“There is no need for that,” she said.

“No need for compliments. It was my understanding that women enjoyed it when men found them attractive.”

“Women who are being courted. I am an advisor for your family in a time of need.”

“You are still beautiful. My beautiful advisor.”

She laughed in spite of herself. “You have a gifted tongue, but flattery will get you nowhere with me.” But she felt his words. Every time he said those words, she prayed he meant them. She prayed that it wasn’t merely his charm attempting to distract her, but that it was an honest sentiment that he believed her pretty.

…

Two nights later at the Mercer girl’s coming-out ball that had promised to be the event of the Season, Vivian stood to the side watching the first of the dancers step onto the ballroom floor. She was partially hidden from much of the room by the three potted trees, but she liked it that way. Marcus had already insisted they dance; she did not want to find out what he had planned for her tonight. She had considered staying at home, but she did want to be here in case Clarissa might need her, though it did seem the girl was doing quite well.

A footman approached her with a tray. He handed her a folded piece of parchment and bowed. “A message for you, Miss March.”

“Thank you,” she said. She opened the paper and read the short note.

I am watching you.

Vivian looked around her, but everyone was busy dancing or conversing or standing at the refreshment table. No one that she could immediately see was looking at her. She looked to see if she could find the footman and she saw the back of his jacket heading toward a doorway, so she hurried after him. She caught up with him in a darkened corridor.

“Pardon me, sir, but who gave this to you?”

“I am not certain,” he said. “I could not see his face, he only said it was imperative that you receive the message immediately.”

Vivian nodded. “Thank you.”

He turned and walked away.

She made a move to turn and follow him back into the ballroom, but something shifted behind her.

“Don’t turn around, Vivian,” a whispered voice said from behind her.

But Vivian never had been very good at taking instructions so she turned around anyway. She could see no one, merely the shadow of someone standing in the darkened corner. “Show yourself,” she said.

“It is not time. But I wanted to see you, up close.” His words came out in hisses as he whispered.

She tried to listen to the voice, to see if it was Frederick’s, but in such a hushed tone, it was too difficult to make out. And she didn’t want to call him Frederick lest it be someone else and it created too many questions. She took a step forward. “What do you want?”

“I don’t believe you’re in a position to be asking questions.”

She took a step toward the voice, willing her eyes to make sense of the shadow in the darkness. But none of the features would come clear.

“You’ll be hearing from me soon,” he said, then slipped through the door behind him.

It had to have been Frederick. Why was he playing such games with her? And why would he try to frighten her? She needed to think, and she would never be able to concentrate here at the ball. Perhaps it was time to retire for the evening. She quietly made her way back to the front of the house and called for her carriage.

Once inside, she breathed deeply to soothe her addled nerves. She should think of this logically. If one of her clients had brought this situation to her attention, seeking her guidance, what would she tell them?

Well, one thing to consider was the fact that if he had wanted to hurt her, physically speaking, he had the opportunity to do so and hadn’t. So it was safe to assume that wasn’t his intention. Therefore, there was no need to be frightened. She shook herself for good measure.

No, he was after something else. She recognized that his return threatened her very livelihood. Should he come forward with their story, there were many prominent families who would scorn her right out of London.

Chapter Eleven

Marcus circled the ballroom for the fourth time. This was the party Vivian had agreed upon with both Maureen and Clarissa. They’d both assured him of it when he’d asked them separately not twenty minutes before.

He’d been in the ballroom for nearly an hour and he had yet to see any sign of Vivian. He was beginning to believe she’d not come simply to avoid him. It was an annoying prospect, considering she had been the one who had set all these marriage-minded mamas in his direction. They were relentless. He’d already had to dance with three women and he’d had to be introduced to an additional four more “delightful” girls. He was finished, at least for tonight. He spotted his Aunt Maureen again and made his way over to her.

“I am leaving. Shall I take you and Clarissa home, or would you prefer I leave the carriage here for the two of you to return at your leisure?”

Maureen eyed Clarissa dancing in the center of the ballroom. “I think we’ll stay. She does appear to be having an enjoyable time. And it’s been a while for her.”

Marcus nodded. “Very well, I’ll hire a hack, and leave the carriage here for you.”

She grabbed his forearm. “Are you ill?” she asked, concern etched in her features.

“No, I merely have a matter I need to attend to before retiring for the evening. All is well,” he said with a pat of her hand.

Maureen nodded and he turned on his heel and left. He probably should find the hostess and give her his regards before slipping out, but he wasn’t in the mood for niceties. It was one thing for Vivian to insist upon his dancing with other females, but for her to not even be there to give him something in the evening to enjoy? He would not abide that. He hired a hack and headed for Miss March’s townhouse.

It was far too late for him to knock on the front door and demand to see her. He crept around to the back of the house, and could see candles burning brightly in the room he knew to be hers, and as luck would have it, there was a rather tall and strong oak tree beneath her window.

He climbed up and swung his legs over the railing of the balcony and pushed his body over the ledge. He landed with a thud, far louder than he intended and certainly loud enough to alert the woman behind the window to his presence.

True to form, Vivian swung open the French doors that led out onto the balcony. The curtains billowed in the wind. “Good heavens, Marcus, what the devil are you doing up here?” She grabbed his arm and pulled him into her room with great force, then shut the doors behind them. “Someone could have seen you.”

“No one saw me,” he said.

“You don’t know that.” She clutched the fabric at her throat closer to her body. It was not an overly revealing bit of nightwear, but the thought that it was the only thing between him and her warm, soft skin had his blood boiling through his veins. Damn, she was attractive. Her long chestnut hair had been done in one long plait that sat on her right shoulder, heavy and asking for him to reach over and touch it. Her face had been freshly scrubbed and was pink from her efforts and she smelled of lemons or oranges. Exotic and tangy.

“You haven’t answered my question,” she said.

“What was that?”

She frowned. “Why are you here?”

“I came to see you,” he said.

“I gathered that much, but why?”

“Are you ill?” he asked.

“Heavens no. I haven’t been ill a day in my life. I have a rather strong constitution.”

“Then where the hell were you tonight?” He took a step towards her.

“I left early.” She shrugged, crossing her arms over her chest. “Besides, I don’t see any reason why I must attend every function you attend.”

“Yes, but you assured us you would be there. Clarissa and Maureen were concerned.” Not a complete truth, but it wasn’t a huge stretch.

“Did you dance with anyone?” Vivian asked.

“Three, but only until I realized you weren’t there and weren’t likely coming. That and their mamas are relentless.”

“Let me guess. Annie Liddle, Gwyneth Montrose and Eloise Jennings?”

“Yes!” He rubbed at the back of his neck. “It’s really quite fortunate I made it out of the ballroom alive.”

“Yes, their mothers have that reputation.”

He shook his head. “Vivian, why must we play this game?” He took a step toward her and grabbed her by the waist. The feel of her body without the constraints of a corset was nearly his undoing. She was soft and deliciously curvy in all the ways a woman should be. He gripped her hip as he pulled her to him. “I know you desire me.”

“That has no bearing on anything.”

“I want you. Does that not matter?”

“Why? Marcus, why do you want me?” she asked softly.

“I’ve asked myself the same question a hundred times. There is the obvious—your beauty. You are a very attractive woman. But there is so much more. For one, you have your own opinions. You do not simply repeat my words as if that were supposed to impress me. You challenge me. Mostly, though, it’s this thing between us that I can’t seem to explain.” He ran the back of his hand down her arm. “Your effect on me, it is something I cannot walk away from until I completely explore it.”

“You are imagining such things.”

“Why will you not admit that you want me, too?”.

“I will do no such thing.” Vivian hugged her arms tighter to her chest.

“But I know that you do. I can see it in your eyes, and I certainly feel it in your kiss.” He leaned close as if to kiss her, but barely brushed her jawline with his lips. He wanted to hear her say it.

“There will be no kissing,” she said, her voice full of breath and desire. Despite her words, there was no defiance in her tone, no certainty of what she said.

He could lean in right now and steal a kiss, but he wanted it to go slower, wanted her to realize she wanted him, that there was in fact something heated and explosive between them.

He grabbed her wrists and pried her arms away from her body. Her nightdress was not too revealing. In all honesty, he couldn’t see anything beneath the voile, but he knew she was under there. Knew that nothing but this white fabric separated him from her glorious flesh. He watched her take in breaths, watched the rise and fall of her plump breasts, and he had to fight the urge to reach up and cup them, to weigh them in his hands and feel her nipples harden at his touch.

She closed her eyes. “What are you doing?” she asked quietly.

“I can’t see you, Vivian. Your gown covers everything, so there is no need to be concerned.”

Her eyes snapped open. “Oh.” She shook her head. “Still, you are here, in my bedroom while I’m dressed inappropriately. Well, clearly not inappropriately for my bedchamber, but with you here. Oh, this is all very improper.”

He had to smile. She was normally so in control of every situation, but when she was ruffled she chattered. “We are adults,” he said. “No one has to know I was here, if you’re so concerned with that. But you know, Vivian, you are old enough to take a lover if you choose, and no one would say anything to you.”

“I do not require a lover.”

“I believe you do.” He rubbed his hands up and down her bare arms. “You are so passionate. Not all women are like that, you know, but you awaken when I get near you. I feel it, I can see it in your eyes. God, it’s intoxicating.” He could wait no longer and he pulled her to him, felt her breasts press against his chest and cursed himself for wearing clothes. He kissed her and she kissed him right back, gave everything of herself in that kiss, opened to him and matched his need. Kissing her made him feel as if he’d never need to kiss another woman—a thought that should have given him pause, but instead it only seemed to fuel his desire.

Their kiss deepened and her hands clutched at his shoulders. She moaned into his mouth and he pressed his erection against her belly.

He wouldn’t seduce her, not tonight. As much as he wanted Vivian, he knew she was more fragile than she let people know. Someone had hurt her and hurt her deeply. So despite the fact that he knew he could lay her down on that bed of hers and spend the next four hours loving every inch of her body, he forced himself to end the kiss.

He kept his forehead leaning against hers and listened to her erratic breathing. “I want you,” he said, “but not tonight, not like this. When I take you—and make no mistake about it, Vivian, I will have you, under me, over me, every way I can have you—I want you to be the one to ask me.” He kissed her gently on the lips and then returned to her window and left the way he’d come.

Vivian didn’t dare go the window and watch him. She stood precisely where he’d left her, desire still shaking her limbs. What the devil was the matter with her?

Granted, she’d still been reeling a bit from the odd meeting at the ball earlier that night. And as soon as Marcus had arrived, she’d wanted to crumble in his arms, tell him of all the signs that pointed to Frederick’s return. But then she’d have to tell him the truth about Frederick.

Had Marcus pressed the issue, gone in for a full seduction, she would not even have pretended to say no. She’d wanted him, wanted him to keep kissing her, start touching her, give her a reason to toss caution and nearly a decade of principles out the window and allow him to make love to her. And damnation if hadn’t known that. He’d said as much. He would have her and she would ask him to make love to her. For a moment she’d believed him. Right now she had zero resolve. Thankfully, though, he had left and she would have time to rebuild said resolve.

She would not ask him. She couldn’t. She wouldn’t dare. She’d spent too much of her life denying those unladylike urges, squelching her desires and needs. Frederick had awakened that in her and she feared that if she let it loose, she’d never go back. She’d become a wanton, an immoral woman living at the edge of society where she sated her need with every willing fellow she could find. She squeezed her eyes shut against the very thought of such a thing.

She’d worked very hard to turn away from that potential disaster, focus her life on helping others, and keep her hands busy so that she didn’t notice that when it came down to it, her heart was empty and lonely, and the pain of that threatened to choke the life from her.

Marcus had called her on everything. He knew she was passionate, knew her filthy little secret she’d desperately tried to hide. Did others know, too? Could they see it on her when she walked into a room? Was her weakness so obvious that men could detect it in her? She’d been flirted with before, but most of the men in London knew she wasn’t interested. They knew she wasn’t open for courtship, and they hadn’t pursued anything else, yet Marcus had seen something in her. Perhaps it was that first kiss they’d shared so many years before. It had been a good kiss, but nothing such as the ones they’d shared since then, so it couldn’t have been the memory of that all these years. No, he could see her, really see her. It was terrifying.

A part of her argued that an affair with him would solve everything, allow her to fulfill her carnal needs, perhaps permanently, so she need not feel imprisoned by them any longer. But what if that didn’t happen? What if, instead, it awakened an insatiable creature inside her? What would people think? He’d said that no one would say a word if she took a lover, but she wasn’t so certain. Everything she’d worked for all these years hinged on her reputation. Not only that, but every person, every family she’d assisted, they survived on her reputation as well. So it wouldn’t simply be herself she was potentially damaging, but others as well. It was far too risky.

As much as she loved the thought of going to him and asking him for a heated night of passion, she couldn’t afford to be that selfish, that indulgent. She had so many other people to consider, one of whom was his sister.

No matter how much she wanted to, she could not have an affair with Marcus.

“I simply cannot abide the situation here in London any longer,” Vivian blurted out at breakfast the following morning.

“Your most recent project is affecting me. The man, in particular,” Aunt Rose said. She set her fork down and looked up from her plate for food.

“He is incorrigible.” Vivian absently smeared butter on a piece of bread. “And a rogue.” Not only that, but she wanted to disappear a little while so that Frederick could not reach her.

“I have watched you, dear, as you have done this—this work of yours helping families and manipulating situations to make life’s little scandals disappear into the background. You are good at it, no matter how unconventional a profession it may be. But this,” she said, tapping on the table, “is different. You are more invested, more focused. This man, he is different.”

Vivian shook her head. This wasn’t about Marcus being different, it was that he reminded her of how different she was than most of the women she knew. With her
projects
, as her aunt was fond of calling them, Vivian had dealt with more than one young girl being compromised, losing her virtue, what have you. It was not as if she was alone in her indiscretion, but what made her so different was that she seemed incapable of turning off the urges, at least on any permanent basis. And damned if he didn’t pose constant temptation to her attempts to fight those baser desires.

“My dedication to this family’s plight is not unusual. Perhaps my solution to their problem is a bit unorthodox, as I do not normally play the matchmaker, but that does not make
him
different.” Vivian wrapped her arms around her chest. “He does, however, seem quite intent on driving me to Bedlam. He’s not taking into consideration that all I am doing is trying to make certain that his sister’s reputation is not harmed beyond repair.” Vivian covered the buttered bread with a healthy dose of fig preserves.

“Are you certain that’s all you’re doing?” Aunt Rose asked.

“What are you implying?”

Aunt Rose shrugged. “Merely that Clarissa’s reputation seems relatively unscathed, despite the fact that people are still talking about it in some circles. It appears you handled the worst of that situation already. Inviting Mr. Rodale into polite society seems to have been all the solution required. Yes, his presence makes people uncomfortable, the women are all enchanted by his dashing looks, and the men don’t want him to tell anyone how much of their fortunes they’ve lost at his tables. And no one will go against you, dear. You’ve deemed him one of us and no one will argue. Clarissa will come out of this perfectly well, perhaps a little wiser, which certainly never hurt anyone.”