A Little Bit Wicked (10 page)

“You are a wicked man, Marcus,” she murmured.

“Indeed. Won’t you be a little wicked with me?”

She took a steadying breath. “Not tonight I won’t.” And then she slipped out of the closet.

But she hadn’t said no.

…

Vivian had let it slip that she was taking Aunt Rose to the theatre, as was their tradition once the new Season began. Marcus then had his own aunt make arrangements for two of the young women he’d met, along with their mothers, to join him and sit in his box at the very same performance. So it was that Vivian stood in the theatre lobby knowing full well that Marcus would arrive at some point. She had to give him credit. He had said he was coming after her and he’d certainly been true to his word.

The theatre fluttered with people. Beautiful young women and fashionable older women milled about in brightly colored dresses as if attempting to compete with the fresco paintings along the arched ceilings. Tall and stately men, dressed in their finest, stark white ties and black tails, spoke above the women, using their deep voices to fill the room with talk of politics, travel plans, and finance.

Good heavens, but there were a lot of bodies in this room! Rose finally made it away from her throng of acquaintances to Vivian’s side. “Shall we take our seats?” Rose asked.

“Indeed. It seems even more congested than usual out here,” Vivian said. She’d never before been bothered by crowds, but tonight they all seemed to be standing too close, talking too loudly.

Finally in their seats, Vivian held the theatre glasses up to better see all the people around them. The crowd had evidently followed their lead, and more and more people were filtering in to their seats. The boxes nearest her filled with their patrons. She wondered if Lena and Henry were here. Or if Clarissa and Maureen had come. But no matter what name flitted through her mind, her eyes sought a certain dark-haired, blue-eyed devil.

She tried to convince herself that it was simply the unknown. Once she knew where he sat, and which girls he’d invited, she would be able to relax and enjoy the performance. She knew, though, that neither of those things were true in the least.

She peered through the magnifying glasses and scanned the room. To her right, she spotted a couple having a disagreement. She could tell by the woman’s thin-lipped mouth and narrowed eyes. The woman did not look at her husband. Instead, she kept her eyes coolly looking forward, while her mouth still moved.

Vivian moved on to the next area of rows. Three young and very pretty girls sat, all smiles and giggles, backs straight and dressed in the colors of sweet cakes. Vivian smiled wistfully. She remembered being that young and full of hope at the possibilities of life. She willed the girls to be strong, to not make the same mistake she’d made, so that they could go on to find love or at the very least a husband whom they did not loathe.

A box seat across from and above her housed a crush of people. An older couple, the man already sleeping and the woman chatting happily to the person in front of her. Three more middle-aged women, two younger women, both of whom seemed to be studying their programs, two men standing…and one pair of theatre glasses staring back at her. She pulled her glasses away from her eyes, but kept her sight on the box. She looked through the glasses again. This time she saw the person, and he smiled brilliantly and winked.

Caught you.

Marcus had been watching Vivian peer through her glasses for the last several moments. He hoped she’d looked for him. Her Aunt Rose sat beside her chatting happily away, despite the fact that Vivian obviously hadn’t been paying attention.

Vivian looked beautiful, though he noted she’d gone back to her normally favored dark colors with a deep green gown. Again, she lifted her glasses and looked his way. Her mouth opened and she quickly removed the glasses and looked away. Marcus chuckled.

It was perfect that she knew where he was sitting. She could easily see he was following their bargain of bride hunting, as he’d invited two of the women to join him this evening.

Lady Constance looked beautiful in an icy blue gown. It set off her fair complexion and pale blonde hair. Though she was an attractive woman, there was something about her that Marcus didn’t care for. He hadn’t selected the women for this evening’s gathering. He’d left that to his aunt, and evidently she was encouraging that particular alliance since she was rather fond of Constance’s aunt. The two elder women now sat gossiping contentedly.

It was a study in contrast between Lady Constance and the other woman invited, Annie. Constance stood a good head above petite Annie. With her darker complexion, from her French mother, he’d been told, and hair nearly black, Annie was the very opposite of Lady Constance’s golden beauty. He would marry neither, though he found Annie’s pleasant nature far more appealing than Constance’s seductive glances.

As soon as the lights dimmed, Lady Constance moved from her seat to the empty one next to him. “Have you ever seen this play, my lord?”

He leaned a little closer so she could hear his lowered voice. “I don’t believe I have. My travels have not allowed for many visits to the theatre. And yourself?”

“No, not this one. But I adore the theatre. The stories they weave.” She leaned even closer. “May I tell you a secret?”

What kind of secret could a young woman of nineteen or twenty have? No doubt as dreadful as “my slippers are not the precise color of my gown.”

Her eyes dropped to his mouth and she leaned even closer. “It is a wicked secret,” she whispered. “Not one for a proper lady.” She paused only a second. “I have a fantasy of being on stage, of being the center of the room with all eyes watching. Listening only to me. Thinking only of me.”

She was a brazen one, he would admit that. With her pouty, kiss-me lips and wide blue eyes, she appeared innocent, but her words and movements spoke of a worldly experience not learned from books. At one point in his life, her charms and obvious sexuality would have sent his desire over the edge. Tonight he felt nothing. Well, not exactly nothing. If the truth be told, he felt a little unsettled.

The curtains opened and the play began.

Marcus raised his glasses and found Vivian. She appeared enchanted by the actors on the stage and even laughed at some of their antics.

Marcus saw very little of the play. Instead, he kept his attention divided between watching Vivian and trying to pretend he was interested in the play. Vivian’s face lit with laughter and Marcus would have given anything to be sitting at her side to hear the giggle. That was not about seduction, though. Seduction was about moans and sighs of pleasure. Giggles were an entirely different matter, one he wasn’t so certain he was comfortable with.

Chapter Ten

Vivian was nearly thankful that the morning after the theatre, she awakened to find a distraught Lady Milford in her front parlor. It was a small issue that required little creativity to work out. Still, dealing with the woman’s mother-in-law, who insisted on making very public wagers on nearly everything with anyone who would approach her, was far more appealing to think upon than the current mess in Vivian’s own life. Once that issue was resolved, Vivian had to turn her thoughts once again to the Kincaid family.

After she’d seen him at the theatre, and the mere thought of him had set her heart to racing, Vivian had nearly considered retiring to the country for the remainder of the Season. Then on her way home, her aunt had told her that people were still discussing Clarissa’s indecorous meeting with Justin Rodale. Evidently, it was going to be a more trying rumor to squelch, and his welcome presence in society hadn’t yet helped. Every now and again those types of scandals popped up, like sparks blowing in the wind that started one fire here, another over there.

So it became evident that she could not walk away, not yet. The sooner Marcus became engaged, the sooner people would forget about Clarissa, and the sooner Vivian could forget about Marcus. Luckily, they had all agreed to attend the Finches’ ball that evening. It was time for him to begin courting those women and make a selection.

Later that evening at the Finches’ ball, Vivian shook her head at what Marcus had just said. He thought his request had been completely legitimate, but she evidently disagreed. She grabbed his sleeve and pulled him to a corner heavily guarded by an alarmingly large potted topiary.

Two girls walked by them, their arms linked and they whispered, never even looking up to see Marcus and Vivian.

“Your impertinence is truly becoming tedious,” Vivian said.

A footman stopped to offer them champagne. Vivian shot the man in impatient look. “Not now, thank you,” she said tartly. She turned back to Marcus. “Why must you be so damned stubborn?”

Marcus put his hand to his chest. “Why, Miss March, such indecorous language coming from you. And at the Finches’ ball. It’s truly scandalous.”

“I am serious.” And she was, of that he was certain. Her brow furrowed and little lines had formed at the edges of her eyes. Her stance, too, spoke of a woman quite incensed.

“I am, too.
Those
are my terms. Accept them or not, it matters not to me.” He shrugged.

She crossed her arms over her ample bosom and glared at him. “And if I do not wish to dance with you?” she asked.

“Then I shall not dance at all.” He smiled at her. “It’s really quite simple, Vivian.”

“There is nothing about you that is simple. Absolutely nothing.” She exhaled loudly. “
You
are an infuriating man.”

“And yet you still find me attractive.” He ran one finger down the part of her arm exposed between her sleeve and glove.

She shivered against his touch, but said nothing, merely continued to glare.

“One dance, Vivian, that is all. Certainly you can stand to be in my arms for the length of one waltz.”.

Another footman came back, this time offering lemonade, and Marcus held up one hand. The man walked off without saying a word.

“Another dance. Any dance but the waltz,” she said. Her brown eyes met his and he almost agreed. But the fact was he didn’t want to dance with any of those women. If he had to dance, he wanted her in his arms and the waltz was the only way to get her close to him.

“No, it must be the waltz.”

“Damnation, Marcus, do you not realize that people are still talking about your sister? The rumor has not died. Her reputation is still at risk.”

“Then convince her to marry someone. That would save her reputation,” Marcus said. “She will not listen to me.”

Vivian shook her head. “It will not work. She’s convinced herself that she is to marry George Wilbanks, though it’s becoming abundantly clear he has no intention of marrying her.” Then Vivian frowned. “You don’t think—”

“No, they’re never alone. Maureen guards her particularly closely. Especially now,” Marcus said. “And I’m not so certain George is all that interested in Clarissa, at least not romantically. They have been friends for years, though. And I’ve already spoken to her about him. She has been given explicit instructions not to spend any more time with Wilbanks. If he does want to marry her, let him come speak to me about it formally.”

“Well, I must say I find your stance on that quite admirable,” she said.

“See, I’ve already impressed you for the evening. Reward me with a dance.”

“Forbidding her to see George Wilbanks is a good start, but you should also be encouraging her to select another man that might be a better choice for her.”

He did want Clarissa to marry—that was in his best interest, would allow him to return to his employment sooner—but he would not force the girl into a marriage that would make her miserable. “I will consider speaking to her.”

“So knowing full well your sister’s good name is in potential danger, you still will not do what is necessary to save her?” Vivian asked.

“It sounds to me as if you are the one not doing what is necessary. You were the one brought in as the expert in this particular situation. You should be more creative. Marrying me off can’t be the only solution to this problem.” He gripped her arm, and wanted very badly to pull her closer to him. “Besides, why should I have to saddle myself for a lifetime with some woman I do not know to make up for an innocent conversation my sister had?” He smiled at her, the grin a woman had told him once made it impossible to resist him. “Vivian, would it be so awful to dance with me? One waltz and I shall dance with whomever you wish me to tonight.”

“You are making a scene,” she said. She pulled herself out of his grip.

“Seems the smart thing to do would be to dance with him,” Justin said as he walked past them.

Vivian frowned at Justin’s back, and then she met Marcus’s gaze.

“I could not have planned that if that’s what you’re wondering,” Marcus said. “You are the one who pulled me over here, I might remind you. We have been here for a while. I suspect people could start talking about us.”

“I have no interest in dancing with you.”

“Love, you are far too angry for me to believe that. Do save me that waltz.”

“Insufferable,” she muttered before she stalked off.

“Why are you tormenting her so?” Justin asked when Marcus walked up to him. “Poor Miss March.”

Why was he tormenting her? Because ever since he’d kissed her again, he’d thought of little else but when he could get her back into his arms. He wanted to lay her bare and spend hours exploring every glorious part of her body. “I do not wish to be married.”

“No one is going to require you to marry,” Justin said. “She merely wanted you to dance with them.” He glanced at the room around them. “Do you realize I know the size of the purse of nearly every man in this room?”

Marcus chuckled. “I suppose your presence makes quite a few of them rather nervous.”

“Ah yes, I inadvertently scowled at Lord Archer at the refreshment table and I believe he scurried away crying.” Justin swirled the amber-colored drink in his glass.

“How much is he in for?”

“Seven hundred pounds, at last check.” Justin sipped his drink. “So you intend to marry Miss March?”

“No, marriage is not really in my mind at the moment.”

“You are a rake of the worst sort, then. Seducing an innocent woman.” Justin’s words held no judgment. But they also held no truth. Vivian March was no innocent and Marcus had every intention of enjoying that to its fullest.

If Vivian had any sense at all, she’d leave now. But as she watched Marcus dance with Gwyneth Montrose, Vivian knew if she left he would make her regret it. Not only that, if Marcus’s assumption had been correct and people were beginning to watch and discuss she and Marcus, then she had lost control of the situation. A very worrisome conclusion. She never lost control.

At least she hadn’t until Marcus had shown up in her life. She’d been the very pinnacle of propriety until then. Well, except for her indiscretions with Frederick, but that was her secret. No one else knew. No one but Frederick.

But for the moment, she needed to regain control of this situation. Marcus Kincaid was devilishly handsome and for whatever reason, he seemed to enjoy ruffling her feathers. And she, whatever the reason, allowed him to do so. He certainly wasn’t the first man to flirt with her. Though, admittedly, he was the first to steal such searing kisses from her.

He caught her glance from the dance floor and she could have sworn he winked. She looked behind her to see if anyone else had seen his brazenness, but a group of people behind her were discussing politics. How could people discuss politics at a time such as this? She was going to have to dance with that man in front of everyone. She took a steadying breath. She rarely danced.

“He is very handsome,” a woman’s voice said beside her.

Vivian turned and saw Diana Cosgrove standing at her side. Marcus had only just inquired about Miss Cosgrove the other day and now she was speaking to Vivian for the first time. “I beg your pardon?”

“Lord Ashford. I have not made his acquaintance as yet, but he is quite dashing,” Diana said.

She was an attractive woman, but not one you would consider beautiful. With her red hair and lazy green eyes she stared out across the ballroom at Marcus. The way she watched him made Vivian uncomfortable. Yes, he was on the market for a wife, but Diana was close to Vivian’s age and she had no business setting her sights on Marcus. “I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure,” Vivian said, eyeing the woman. She was taller than Vivian and exuded a worldly quality.

Diana looked down, her features pinched in annoyance. “Diana Cosgrove, and I certainly know who you are. Your reputation precedes you, Miss March.”

Vivian could see that was not a compliment. Evidently, Marcus had been right. For whatever reason, this woman did not think kindly of her.

“Lord Ashford is rather young for you, wouldn’t you agree?” she asked, her voice taking on a feigned innocent tone.

“What is it that you have to say to me, Miss Cosgrove?” There was no reason to pretend niceties if this woman meant her harm.

Diana’s delicate shoulders rose in a shrug. “Nothing more than that a mutual friend of ours asked that I bid you good evening and say that he would be seeing you soon.” With that, the woman walked away.

It was a strange message, but Vivian knew precisely whom it was from. Why was Frederick playing these games? Why did he not come himself and get this over with? He was a cruel man to toy with her in such a way. She took a steadying breath. She could manage this. She was no simpering schoolgirl. There was no reason his presence should make her uncomfortable. As Miss Cosgrove said herself, Vivian had an impeccable reputation. She was Vivian March, The Paragon.

The waltz,
hers and Marcus’s,
was next. The final notes to the song ended, and she knew he would be coming to retrieve her. Marcus Kincaid might believe he had the upper hand, but she knew better. She was a determined and focused woman. Frederick’s return was unsettling, she couldn’t deny that, but at the moment she had more pressing matters. Namely, marrying off a certain earl before he had any additional opportunities to seduce her. Once she set her mind to something, no one would dissuade her.

She sent gratitude heavenward that she wore her nicest gloves else Marcus would know her palms were sweating. The mere thought of having his hands on her body for all in the room to see had her heart thumping wildly. She had not felt so nervous dancing with Lord Banberry the other evening. She could do this. She could dance with him and no one in the room would know the truth about her. She’d hid her secret for this long, and could continue to do so.

Perhaps Marcus didn’t even know the truth yet. He knew he could kiss her and get her to kiss him in return, but he was a very skilled kisser. She suspected he could do the same with any other woman in the room. He didn’t know that those kisses sent wanton thoughts and images racing through her mind, making her body ache and tingle for him, making her want to press herself against him, rub herself against him in a most disgraceful sort of way. She’d kept her base urges dormant for so long he had awakened them. But this was merely a dance.

“Miss March,” he said, suddenly appearing in front of her. He held out his hand to her, his perfectly masculine and ungloved hand. Her breath caught. “This is our dance.”

She took another breath and met his eyes. The blue seemed to melt through her, firing desire through her every muscle. She held firm. “Yes, it is.” She even managed a smile.

He took her in his arms, one hand on her back and the other holding her hand. He didn’t press her body against his, but held her at an appropriate distance.

“What did Miss Cosgrove have to say to you?” he asked.

He’d been watching her; she should have known he would notice her short conversation with Diana. “Nothing, really, she introduced herself is all.”

“That was it?”

“Yes, she only stopped by for a moment.”

“Yes, but you seem nervous. Vivian.” When she didn’t immediately meet his gaze he repeated her name. “Vivian. Look at me.”

She looked up again and was caught in the fathomless depths of his azure gaze. “No, not nervous, pensive.”

“It’s only a dance, love,” he said, his words gentle. “There is no need to fret. I merely wanted to be able to have one dance this evening where I could enjoy myself.”

The words hit their mark and she nearly dissolved into a puddle of tears. How was it that this man had been in London for less than a fortnight and yet he already seemed to be able to see so much about her? See into her soul, know precisely what to say to soothe her worries. She released a heavy breath and allowed herself to take note of the music. He was an expert dancer, something she hadn’t been expecting. He was graceful and fluid, and they fit remarkably well together. She lost herself in the dance, even remembered that once upon a time she’d loved dancing, in particular the waltz. He spun her around the dance floor, keeping perfect time to the music.