A Little Bit Sinful

by Adrienne Basso

  Eleanor shuddered to think how Bianca would have managed without her. As it was, it felt like her lovely, innocent sister was a lamb thrown to the wolves.

  Though she did not voice any distress, Eleanor could see that Bianca was very nervous. Not so much for herself, Bianca had confided as they entered the ballroom, but her younger sister was mostly concerned about disappointing or displeasing their father. She was anxious that she would inadvertently make a misstep or appear awkward.

  It angered Eleanor to see how much her sister cared, especially when contrasted with how little concern their father showed in return. Eleanor sighed, trying to control her anger, knowing it would only serve to distress Bianca. Attempting to distract it, she looked about the room. And realized the same gentleman was still staring at Bianca.

  His eyes had a predatory look of a hunter on the scent of fresh meat. That hungry gaze of interest set the alarm bells clanging loudly in Eleanor’s head.

  She shifted her position to stand protectively in front of her sister and for a brief instant his eyes met Eleanor’s across the room. An unexpected wave of heat flushed through her body. An odd reaction, surely, for though he was a handsome man, there were others in attendance possessing greater physical beauty.

  He was tall, taller than most men she knew, with broad shoulders, muscular legs, and not an ounce of extra fat on his lean torso. His hair was dark and thick, his eyes the color of a stormy gray sky. The serene smile on his sensuous mouth softened the strong, bold lines of his face and enhanced his natural charm.

  He was dressed in a black evening coat with black satin knee breeches, a gold embroidered waistcoat, a white shirt, and an intricately tied white cravat. He wore his clothes with a casual elegance that proclaimed him a man of great self-confidence and pride.

  Eleanor scrunched her brows into a scowl, hoping to chase away his scrutiny, then realized his gaze was no longer on them. His eyes were darting about the crowded ballroom. Perhaps looking for his partner for the next dance?

  A laughing group of guests stepped in front of him, and her view of him was gone. Shaking her head at her foolishness, Eleanor turned to her sister.

  “Are you getting hungry? ‘Tis nearly time for the supper dance. If I remember correctly that means the food has already been placed in the dining room. If we go now we can avoid the crush.”

  Bianca slowly shook her head. “I know you told me at these affairs the food is plentiful and lavish, but honestly, Eleanor, I couldn’t swallow a bite.”

  “I understand.”

  Eleanor patted her sister’s arm soothingly before noticing out of the corner of her eye that the handsome stranger was coming toward them. And he was not alone. Perched on his arm was a matronly woman dressed all in black. She was frowning in confusion as she took two quick steps to each of the mystery man’s one. Eleanor decided she had to be a relative. What other woman would tolerate such manhandling?

  The pair was heading directly toward them. Eleanor opened her fan and waved it absently before her face, hoping Bianca had not noticed these two. She was already a bundle of nerves. The attention of this arresting gentleman might push her over the edge.

  “Ladies, I am sorry to interrupt, but the viscount is most insistent that I make an introduction.”

  Eleanor watched the older woman’s bosom expand mightily as she sought to control her rapid breathing. The delay caused the gentleman’s impatience to rise and he pressed himself forward.

  “I am Benton,” he said, fixing Bianca with a steady look as he bowed.

  “Such impertinence, Lord Benton!” the older woman beside him exclaimed, pressing a hand over her still-heaving bosom. “Have your manners gone totally missing? You hauled me all the way over here so quickly one would think we were fleeing a fire. The very least you can do is allow me to make the introductions. Properly.”

  Lord Benton’s eyes flashed hard and dangerous, then settled into a contrite gleam. “My apologies, Lady Agatha.”

  Lady Agatha harrumphed rather loudly. Eleanor would not have been surprised to see the older woman storm off in a huff, but then she noticed Lord Benton’s hand clutching Lady Agatha’s arm, preventing her escape.

  With all eyes on her, Lady Agatha rose grandly to the occasion. “Now then, ladies, I would like to present Sebastian Dodd, Viscount Benton. These two enchanting creatures are the daughters of the Earl of Hetfield. Lady Eleanor and Lady Bianca.”

  Eleanor and Bianca curtsied, the viscount bowed. Eleanor found herself gazing at his face, her eyes drawn to the strong line of his jaw, the firm, sensuous shape of his mouth. He had such marvelously appealing lips. She wondered what it would feel like to be kissed by him, to squeeze those broad, muscular shoulders as his lips brushed hers.

  “Lady Eleanor?”

  Blinking in embarrassment, Eleanor inhaled a shaky breath. What was wrong with her? The viscount clearly had no interest in her. Besides, such improper, risqué thoughts about a virtual stranger were ridiculous—and very much out of her character. “I beg your pardon, Lady Agatha. I did not hear your question.”

  Though Eleanor could have sworn it had been a female voice that was talking, it was the viscount who spoke.

  “Lady Agatha and I were wondering why we have not seen either of you in Town.”

  “Bianca and I usually reside at our home in the country,” she answered. “We have only recently arrived.”

  “How fortunate. Your presence adds the beauty we were missing and will serve to elevate the Season to a spectacular level,” he said grandly.

  Eleanor nearly rolled her eyes at the flowery sentiment. “London hardly lacks for beautiful women, my lord.”

  “Pretty, perhaps. Yet none quite as lovely as the two of you.” He spoke the words to her, since she had answered him, but it was plain to all that he meant them for Bianca. “I believe there are many gentlemen who will take umbrage with the earl for delaying your arrival in Town.”

  “I have a suspicion that the earl is the type of man who keeps his most precious things hidden away, out of sight,” Lady Agatha interjected with a superior smirk.

  Bianca lowered her head modestly. Eleanor smiled dimly, relieved that a female’s vapid smile was usually taken as a sign of agreement. Precious things! How preposterous. Why, if they knew the truth about the earl’s treatment of his daughters they would be appalled.

  So tell them. A devilish urge of honesty was something that plagued Eleanor at the most inconvenient times. As much as she would have liked to dispel this myth about their father, it would hurt and embarrass her sister. Not to mention enlightening any of these people as to her father’s true character would be social suicide.

  “Now that we have been properly introduced, I shall shamelessly beg for the honor of a dance,” Lord Benton said. “Lady Bianca?”

  Bianca looked down at the viscount’s extended hand, then over at Eleanor. Heart fluttering with worry, Eleanor eyed the viscount suspiciously. The faint lines at the corners of his eyes told her he was too old for her gentle sister, the arrogance in his sensual smile bespoke of a sophistication way beyond Bianca’s comprehension.

  But Bianca’s eyes were pleading with her to agree. She had promised herself she would be vigilant, yet not unreasonable with the men who paid court to her sister. So Eleanor nodded her head in permission.

  Bianca’s face broke into a smile. “I shall be delighted to dance with you, my lord.”

  In silence, Eleanor and Lady Agatha watched the pair walk away. “What can you tell me about the viscount?” Eleanor asked the moment the couple took their place in line for the quadrille.

  The older woman nodded in understanding. “A handsome devil, is he not? And more than charming, especially when the mood suits him.”

  “Unmarried?”

  “Of course. I would not have made the introduction if he were a married man.” Lady Agatha lifted her chin and let out an offended sniff. “He has an old and distinguished title. The Dodds were royalists who fought beside King Charles
and were rewarded handsomely for their loyalty when the throne was reclaimed. On his mother’s side he can trace his ancestry back to the Conqueror, though there is rumored to be some Welsh blood mixed in several generations ago.”

  Lady Agatha’s tone implied that was not a desirable connection, but Eleanor dismissed it as insignificant. “I do not want a list of his pedigree, Lady Agatha. What of his character? Is he a good man?”

  “Good? Why, he is good at many things. An excellent rider, a keen shot, a fashionable dresser, as you can plainly see. He runs with a bit of a fast crowd, though that part of his life is clearly changing. His close friend the Marquess of Atwood married last year and has settled well into domesticity.”

  Eleanor had difficulty picturing Lord Benton doing the same. Still, it could happen. She digested the information thoughtfully. “So you believe it is Viscount Benton’s intention to follow his friend’s lead and marry?”

  Lady Agatha shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other. “I have heard nothing specific about Benton actively seeking a bride this Season. But a man of his years must be thinking about settling down and setting up his nursery. I know it was his grandmother’s fondest wish. What better way to honor her recent passing than to marry a suitable young woman?”

  It was a skillful, yet evasive answer. What exactly was Lady Agatha trying to hide? Knowing she had only a limited amount of time to question the older woman, Eleanor considered the best way to get to the heart of the matter. “Tell me, Lady Agatha, would you encourage your granddaughter to set her cap for the viscount?”

  The look of horror on Lady Agatha’s face was all the answer Eleanor needed. “Goodness me, Emily is such a sheltered, timid girl. I’m certain Benton would not look twice at her.”

  “Bianca is equally young and naive,” Eleanor replied tartly. “I thank you for your honesty, Lady Agatha.”

  “Good heavens, Lady Eleanor, I fear you have misunderstood my remarks,” Lady Agatha began, but she was silenced by the arrival of Bianca and the viscount.

  They were all smiles, clearly having enjoyed their time together. Eleanor waited, curious to see what the viscount would do next. It would be exceedingly forward if he asked Bianca to dance with him a second time.

  For one wild, impulsive moment she wondered whether he would solicit her for the next dance. Eleanor’s hand tightened on her fan. The very idea gave her a flash of excitement and she felt embarrassed for being so foolish.

  “I usually ride in the park at the fashionable afternoon hour,” the viscount said. “I do hope if we chance to meet, you will take pity on me and spare me more than a moment of your delightful company, Lady Bianca.”

  Bianca cast confused eyes toward Eleanor, clearly at a loss how to reply. Though they had been in Town for several days, Bianca’s lack of a fashionable wardrobe had kept them virtual prisoners inside their rented townhome. They had not ventured much beyond the few blocks surrounding the residence, coming reluctantly to this evening’s ball only at the earl’s insistence.

  “I am uncertain as to what my plans will be tomorrow,” Bianca finally answered.

  “Just say you will be there.”

  Bianca lowered her chin and blushed, her nod of acceptance barely perceptible.

  The viscount smiled. “I look forward with great anticipation to seeing you again, Lady Bianca. And you also, Lady Eleanor,” he added hastily, casting a consolatory glance in Eleanor’s direction.

  Her spine stiffened. She had no need of his pity.

  Eleanor extended her hand in farewell, fascinated by the sudden tingling that shot through her when she ever-so-briefly touched the viscount’s palm. Eleanor felt her cheeks warm at her schoolgirl reaction. She was far too mature to be so easily thrown into confusion by such a simple gesture.

  “How was your dance?” Eleanor asked her sister the moment they were alone.

  “Wonderful.” The smile of delight reached Bianca’s eyes, making them sparkle. “Lord Benton is very skillful. And when I accidentally missed a step, he apologized and said it was his fault, when it so obviously was mine. He is a true gentleman.”

  Two charming dimples appeared in Bianca’s cheeks as her grin deepened. Seeing them made Eleanor’s heart turn over.

  “You liked the viscount?”

  “Very much indeed.”

  “You don’t think he is a bit old for you?”

  “Old? Not at all. He’s probably only a few years older than you. Surely you noticed all the other gentlemen who danced with me are as old as Papa.” Bianca wrinkled her nose. “Or older.”

  “Yes, I had noticed.” Eleanor bit her lower lip and sternly admonished herself to calm down. In her opinion, the viscount’s age and reputation made him unsuitable for Bianca, but she was not going to say anything just yet.

  Her sister had met very few appealing men tonight. Once her wardrobe was completed and they entered society fully there would be plenty of handsome, suitable men vying for her sister’s affection. It stood to reason that the exposure to other young gentlemen would make the viscount less engaging.

  Eleanor knew she couldn’t count on their father to protect Bianca—that job would fall to her. And she fully intended to remain vigilant. This was Bianca’s chance to make a good match and Eleanor would not allow it to be squandered. She was determined to do all that she could to ensure her sister achieved the happiness she so richly deserved.

  A happiness that Eleanor was certain would not be found with a rogue like Lord Benton.

  Chapter 4

  The crowds in Hyde Park were particularly large the following afternoon. Sebastian frowned as he gazed out at the sea of open carriages, horseback riders, and pedestrians clogging the footpath. The sunny day and pleasant temperatures had brought them out in droves and not a single person appeared to be in a hurry.

  He cursed softly beneath his breath, knowing it might take hours to find Lady Bianca. If she was even in the park. His one consolation was that he had come on horseback, which allowed him to weave his way around the carriages, instead of walking among them.

  Yet after twenty frustrating minutes of that, Sebastian remembered why he seldom went to the park at this fashionable hour. It was bedlam.

  Life would be so much easier if he could simply call upon Bianca at home, but by doing so he would run the risk of encountering the earl. And that might very well put an end to the relationship before it even began, effectively thwarting Sebastian’s chance for revenge.

  No, for the plan to have any chance of success, the courting needed to be conducted in a clever, calculating manner. He would meet the girl out in the open, in public places and at society events, never obviously stating his interest to anyone but her. This way, when the blow of her ruination was struck, the earl would be caught completely unawares.

  “The sun must be blinding me, Dorothea,” a cheerful female voice declared. “I swear I see Lord Benton.”

  “Benton? Impossible,” the beautiful woman beside her replied. “He never rides in the park.”

  “Ladies.” Sebastian touched his whip to the brim of his hat in greeting and smiled at the trio of women walking directly in front of him. “‘Tis a rare treat to see all three Ellingham sisters together.”

  The women gathered around his horse and gazed up at him, a variety of expressions on their lovely faces. Of the three, he knew the youngest of the sisters, Emma, the best. Dorothea, the middle sister, was the wife of his closest friend, the Marquess of Atwood, so he had often been in her company this past year. Gwendolyn, the eldest, was a more recent acquaintance. He found her to be a levelheaded female with good instincts and a sharp wit.

  She was regarding him now with keen interest and he squirmed slightly under her scrutiny. Though she lacked the ravishing beauty of Dorothea and the fresh, animated demeanor that made Emma such a pretty girl, Gwendolyn was a handsome woman in her own right. And she clearly possessed other more salient characteristics since she was married to Jason Barrington. Sebastian had to admire a woman with
the mettle to tame one of the most notorious rakes on the ton. Or rather, former rakes.

  “Come now, Benton, you have not told us what you are doing here today,” Dorothea probed.

  “I assume it would be obvious, Lady Dorothea. I am exercising my horse and taking the air.”

  “Pish-posh, my lord, we are not so easily fooled. The crowds are so thick your horse can barely move along the path,” Gwendolyn said.

  Emma clicked her tongue and gave him a saucy wink. “I agree, something must be afoot. Why else would Benton be here, immaculately attired, looking so handsome, so dashing, so virile?”

  He looked down at Emma’s teasing expression and raised his eyebrows. “You wound me, Emma. As you very well know, that is my natural state.”

  “Handsome, virile, and dashing?”

  “Don’t forget immaculate,” Dorothea added.

  “He is that too. Plus, sitting so tall and graceful in the saddle shows his well-muscled legs to the best advantage,” Emma commented, turning to her sisters. “Don’t you agree?”

  They nodded and smiled.

  “I might be sitting above you, ladies, but the sound of your dainty tones travels far. I can hear every word you are saying,” Sebastian said tartly.

  The women laughed. Sebastian tried to hold a stern expression but failed. Their good-natured teasing was well-deserved, since he took every opportunity to return it in kind.

  With a sigh of resignation, Sebastian swung off his horse. He shifted the reins into his left hand, then insinuated himself into the middle of the group. The women closed ranks around him and they began walking, Sebastian’s horse following sedately behind.

  It was difficult traveling four abreast. A boisterous group of youngsters pushed their way forward, nearly knocking Lady Dorothea down. Sebastian’s arm shot out instinctively and he grabbed her around the waist to keep her from falling.