A Season for Sin

by Vicky Dreiling

  She followed him to the landing and watched as he bounded down the stairs. He crossed the great hall without a backward glance and disappeared from her sight. She longed for days gone past when she’d taught him to play backgammon during his summer breaks from school. On sunny days, the two of them would take long walks while a nurse watched over her ailing husband, Phillip. Every night, she and Justin had sat by Phillip’s bedside while she read aloud to them. They had needed her, and she had felt fulfilled, knowing that she’d provided comfort and cheer to her little family.

  Laura wrapped her arms around her waist, returned to the drawing room, and shut the door. She donned her shawl and walked to the fire to warm her hands. Prior to traveling to London for the first time, she’d envisioned seeing all the sites with Justin. She felt foolish for believing he would be delighted to accompany her. Now she felt isolated in this rented house and bustling, crowded city, where she had only one friend. She ought not to feel sorry for herself, but she was lonely and a little heartsore that Justin was pushing her away.

  “Oh, Phillip, I wish you were here. You would know how to deal with him.”

  But her elderly husband had become too ill and would not have been able to handle a recalcitrant young man who was neither an adult nor a child. And Justin’s guardian had taken no interest in providing guidance.

  “Better me, than a relative who neither cares nor loves him,” she whispered to no one.

  After an interrupted night’s sleep, Bell spent the better part of the afternoon yawning in Parliament while listening to a gentleman’s petition to divorce his wife. Several witnesses attested to her engagement in criminal conversation, a foolish euphemism for adultery. Naturally, the wife in question had no say in the proceedings. The husband wanted to rid himself of his unfaithful wife so that he could marry another. They had even brought in witnesses, though what they had actually seen remained a mystery to Bell.

  Lord Walpin leaned over to Bell and muttered, “Why the devil does he want another wife when he couldn’t satisfy the first one?”

  “Maybe he’s having trouble hoisting the sword and blames her.”

  Walpin nodded. “A likely scenario. Little wonder she sought her pleasures elsewhere.”

  When the session finally ended, Bell visited his tailor to order new shirts and then patronized Hoby’s establishment to get measured for a new pair of boots to replace the ruined ones. Afterward, he went to White’s and ordered his usual beefsteak dinner along with a glass of claret. The aroma of sizzling beef made his mouth water. As he tucked into the steak and boiled potatoes, he thought of his former chef’s words about his boring eating habits. The memory of his insolent chef still rankled.

  When he finished his meal, he decided to order a slice of cheesecake. He rarely ate dessert, but he recalled eating cheesecake last spring when he’d dined with Will and his wife, Amy. After the waiter brought it to him, he forked a bite into his mouth. The creamy almond filling together with the slightly salty crust tasted sinfully rich. He took another bite and closed his eyes while savoring the confection.

  Footsteps thudded on the carpet. He opened his eyes to find Harry and Colin grinning at him. He felt a bit abashed, but he’d be damned if he showed it.

  “Lord, you look blissful,” Harry said. “Must be delicious.”

  “It is,” Bell said. “Will you join me?”

  “Absolutely,” Colin said.

  Bell had surprised himself. Ordinarily, he would make some excuse to leave unless he’d planned to meet someone. He wasn’t an impulsive sort of man, but he suddenly realized that his two oldest friends had been spur-of-the-moment fellows.

  “We owe you a drink,” Harry said.

  Bell shook his head and motioned for the waiter. “Bring a bottle of brandy for my friends.” Then he noted Harry’s glum expression. “I gather you’re suffering from the bottle ache.”

  “Yes,” Harry said in a mournful tone.

  “He drank half a bottle of claret last night,” Colin said.

  Bell pulled a face. “The devil.”

  “It was on account of his latest romantic disaster,” Colin said.

  “Ah, I recently parted ways with a mistress. It will blow over,” Bell said.

  “No, that’s not it,” Colin said. “Harry falls in love at the drop of a glove. Two nights ago, he fell hard for Mrs. Donovan after seeing her portrayal of Viola at Drury Lane.”

  “I was struck by Cupid’s arrow at the sight of her in breeches,” Harry said. “Her bottom twitched in a most seductive manner.”

  “Let me see if I have this correct,” Bell said. “You fell in lust with Mrs. Donovan’s derriere.”

  Harry nodded. “Oh, yes. I meant to make her an indecent proposal tonight, but now I must adore her from afar.”

  “He means he must adore her twitching bottom from afar,” Colin said.

  Bell laughed. “I’ll probably regret asking, but why from afar?”

  The waiter brought the brandies. After he left, Colin sipped his brandy and continued the story. “After last night’s debacle, Harry has pockets to let.”

  Bell leaned toward Harry. “Are you saying all of your money is in the river?”

  “No, I believe it’s in the hands of a woman I met at Vauxhall last night,” Harry said. “I was rather distracted by her roving hands.”

  “He means her thieving hands,” Colin explained.

  Bell guffawed.

  Harry sighed. “Oh, well, I’ll survive—somehow.”

  “So now I know how you ended up penniless in the waterman’s boat. Do you have no money at all?” Bell said.

  Harry shrugged. “I’ll manage until my cousin releases my quarterly funds.”

  Bell finished his brandy. “Why not request an advance?”

  “Because my cousin, the Earl of Granfield, and I are not in accord,” Harry said. “Don’t get me wrong. Granfield isn’t a bad sort, but all he talks about are his precious pigs. The man is a bloody bore, if you’ll pardon the pun. He wants me to live in his grand manor house in Cornwall and stomp about the pigpens. He names the ugly black sows, for pity’s sake. Last summer, I thought I’d never get the smell of pig dung out of my nostrils.” Harry sighed. “I may never eat bacon again.”

  Bell’s shoulders shook with laughter.

  “On the bright side, I have five jolly female cousins,” Harry said. “They’re always up for a lark.”

  “I can loan you whatever blunt you need, Harry,” Colin said.

  “I take it you’re old friends,” Bell said.

  Harry grinned. “Since Eton.”

  Bell nodded, thinking of his longtime friends Will and Fordham. They had been a merry trio since boyhood. Now his oldest friends had taken a different path, and he felt as if he were treading water. He scowled at the sentimental bent of his thoughts. The devil. He’d never intended to traipse down matrimonial lane. There were plenty of benefits to being a free-wheeling bachelor. If he wanted, he could keep a harem and have a different woman every night. Or perhaps two at once. His groin tightened as he imagined two naked women in his bed.

  “What is this wicked grin?” Harry said, exchanging a glance with Colin.

  Colin wagged his brows. “He looks almost diabolical.”

  “Gentlemen, what would you say to patronizing the theater? I’m in search of a new mistress—or two.”

  “Oh, ho,” Harry said. Then he looked at Colin. “How much can you loan me?”

  “I’m not paying for you to keep a mistress,” Colin said in exasperation.

  “One night, then,” Harry said. “How much does one night cost?”

  “Keep your trousers buttoned. You can’t afford an hour, much less a night,” Colin said.

  Bell arched his brows. “Maybe you could loan him enough for a quarter of an hour.”

  “Only if you’ll time him,” Colin said.

  Bell reached inside his coat and flashed his watch at Harry.

  “Go to the devil,” Harry said, grinning.


  “How about Drury Lane instead? I know an actress who will admit us inside the lady’s dressing room,” Bell said.

  At Drury Lane, Bell surveyed the theater, noting the wax dripping from the chandeliers suspended along the boxes. A man walking below yelped. Bell supposed the management was too tight-fisted to add glass shades.

  “This is lavish,” Colin said as he settled in a red velvet chair.

  Bell claimed a chair and signaled the footman, who brought champagne for them.

  Harry stood at the balcony. “There are a number of lonely ladybirds sitting in the pit.”

  “Maybe Colin will loan you a guinea,” Bell said and sipped his champagne.

  Harry spun around and grinned. “I’m good for it, I swear.”

  Bell and Colin burst out laughing.

  “I can’t help it; I’m desperate,” Harry said. “Do you know how long it’s been?”

  “No, and I don’t want to hear your confession,” Colin said.

  “We’ll visit the dressing rooms at intermission,” Bell said. “Take a seat. The curtain is rising.”

  Tonight, The Tempest was playing at Drury Lane, but no one paid much attention, as most of the beau monde was too busy gossiping and watching one another. Bell liked Shakespeare’s plays, especially the comedies. His favorite was Twelfth Night. He’d never admit that he preferred low-brow comedies to serious literature and plays, but the tragedies didn’t interest him. There was enough suffering in the world without inventing more.

  At intermission, Bell led the way downstairs. Behind him, he heard Colin and Harry arguing.

  “Harry, do try not to fall in love with the actresses,” Colin said.

  “I can’t help it,” Harry said. “I’m a target for Cupid.”

  Bell looked over his shoulder. “Trust me, it’s lust.”

  “Try harder, Harry,” Colin said. “You’re dashed embarrassing when you get that mooncalf look in your eyes.”

  “Best watch out lest some pretty lass snares you in the parson’s mousetrap,” Bell said.

  Harry shuddered. “I don’t want a wife—just a temporary bit of muslin.”

  “Right, a quarter of an hour’s worth,” Bell drawled.

  Colin snorted.

  “Ha ha,” Harry said.

  Bell hailed some acquaintances as he descended the lower stairs and headed toward the women’s dressing room. The crowd of waiting men parted as he strode forward and rapped on the door. Harry and Colin stopped quarreling and caught up with him.

  The door cracked open to reveal Rosalynn, scantily clad in a silk robe. “Bellingham, you devil,” she said, pulling him forward by his lapels.

  “Will you let my friends inside?” he asked, grinning at her.

  “I might,” Rosalynn said, cupping his face. “You could melt a woman’s petticoats with those blue eyes.”

  Bell motioned Harry and Colin to come in. Rosalynn shut the door on the men outside pleading to enter. Inside, the actresses were changing their costumes and weren’t particularly modest. For a moment, Bell found himself mesmerized by the sight of their bosoms and thighs. Then Rosalynn tapped his shoulder. “Aren’t you going to introduce your friends?”

  “Oh, yes, of course,” Bell said gathering up his scattered wits. “This is Harry and Colin. I dragged them out of the Thames.”

  Rosalynn laughed. “Well, your friends are rather attractive, despite their damp origins.”

  An actress with a large bosom approached Harry. “Oh, you’re a looker. I’m Ellie.” She kissed Harry on the cheek. He promptly placed his hand over his heart and pretended to swoon on the threadbare divan.

  A redheaded actress wrapped her arms around Colin’s neck, and moments later he was devouring her lips. Ellie and another actress sat on either side of Harry and proceeded to run their hands over his waistcoat. “I think I’ve died and gone to heaven,” he said.

  “Or hell,” Bell said.

  “If this is hell, I will gladly burn for an eternity,” Harry said.

  “Your friends are amusing,” Rosalynn said, perching on Bell’s lap. “Give me a kiss, before I go back onstage.”

  He held the back of her nape and swept his tongue inside her mouth.

  A few minutes later, she lifted her lips, sounding a bit breathless. “Ah, you’re happy to see me, aren’t you, big fellow?”

  He gave her a wicked grin as he lifted her hand and kissed the inside of her wrist. “Can I interest you in an arrangement? There’s a house and jewels.”

  For a moment, her eyes lit up with excitement, but she banked it quickly. “You tempt me, Bell, but I’m an independent girl.”

  He outlined her lips with a feathery touch. “I’m a generous man,” he said. “You would have access to the premier dressmakers. I will buy you emeralds and treat you like a queen.”

  “You tease,” she said.

  He cupped her powdered and rouged cheek. “No paint, no rehearsals, no memorizing lines. You could be a lady of leisure.”

  “I’m not a lady,” she said, her smile fading.

  He squeezed her hand. “You know what I mean. I can give you comfort and pleasure.”

  “Say no more, because I fear I’ll say yes.”

  “Then say yes,” he said, smiling.

  She put her finger over his mouth. “I’ve no doubt it would be wonderful for as long as it lasted,” she murmured. “But you’re a fickle man, and despite the outward trappings, I have a tender heart.”

  Her words surprised him, because of her cynical veneer. Ordinarily he wouldn’t take her words at face value, but something in her expression made him suspect she’d told the truth.

  Rosalynn brushed a lock of his hair off his brow. “Someday, a woman will come along, and you will lose your heart to her.”

  “I don’t have one to lose,” he quipped.

  “Rosalynn,” the redhead called, “it’s almost time for the next act.”

  She slid off his lap. “Perhaps one evening, I’ll see her in your box.”

  “I wouldn’t wager on it if I were you.”

  She kissed two fingers and pressed them on his mouth. He stood and watched as she hurried away. Rosalynn was a talented actress, but he knew very little about her. Like him, she was adept at dodging personal questions. Doubtless, she’d been in more than a few rough spots over the years. Despite his disappointment with her refusal, he admired her for maintaining her independence.

  After meeting the actresses, the three men returned to White’s and ordered brandies all around. Bell took out a gold case with cheroots and offered it to his friends. They sat silent, smoking for a while, and then Harry spoke up. “We never did find Bell a new mistress.”

  “Hmmm,” Bell said, flicking his cheroot in the ashtray.

  “Lady Atherton is holding a ball tomorrow evening,” Colin said.

  Bell shook his head. “There’s nothing for me at a ball.”

  “You might find a new mistress,” Colin said.

  Bell scoffed. “I meet only other gentlemen’s wives or daughters at balls, and I don’t hunt in other men’s territory.”

  “What you need is a widow,” Harry said. “Someone clever and beautiful, of course.”

  “But widows have expectations,” Colin argued. “Always looking for a new husband.”

  “There is a new widow in town,” Harry said. “I heard she’s not in the market for a husband.”

  Bell smoothed over his expression, but the news piqued his interest. He would not admit it, however. “That’s what they all say.”

  Harry drained his glass and signaled the waiter. “According to my female cousins, she’s a friend of Lady Atherton’s.”

  “Oh? Who is she?” Bell asked in a nonchalant manner.

  Harry frowned. “I forgot. Lady Dun-something or other.”

  Colin smirked. “You’re helpful.”

  Harry’s face reddened. “Well, it’s hard to remember the details when all five of my cousins chatter at once.”

  Bell nodded. “I’ve neve
r understood how females manage to communicate when they all talk at the same time.”

  “Don’t look at me,” Colin said. “I’ve only got two sisters. They’re twins and mostly just talk to each other. When they were very young, they made up their own language. No one could understand their gibberish, except the two of them.”

  “Forgive me, but that’s a bit odd,” Bell said. “How old are they?”

  “Fifteen. My parents worry they’ll never marry because they prefer each other to all other society,” he said.

  “What you need are twin brothers for them.” Harry blew out a smoke ring.

  Colin pulled a face. “What? Are you the designated matchmaker now?”

  “It was only a suggestion,” Harry grumbled.

  “Actually, it’s not a bad solution.” Bell stubbed out his cheroot.

  “Thank you.” Harry traced his finger round the rim of his glass. “I heard about your family. You don’t have any relatives at all?”

  “Harry, for God’s sake,” Colin said. “Don’t pry.”

  Out of habit, Bell fixed a blank expression on his face. He ought to have expected the question, given the topic of families.

  Harry winced. “My apologies.”

  A hollow feeling descended in Bell’s chest. “There’s no one. I’m the last of my line.”

  “I’m sorry to hear of it,” Colin said.

  Bell shrugged. “It’s been five years. Life goes on.”

  An uncomfortable silence ensued. He hated that part the most. No one ever knew what to say afterward, least of all him. He’d trained himself not to think about the sudden deaths of his mother, father, and brother. It had been the only way he’d known to deal with the overwhelming grief. Lately, it seemed that the memories kept invading, despite his efforts to shut them off.

  Harry looked down at the table. “My father died when I was ten. After I went back to school the next year, the other boys avoided me. It was as if they thought it was a contagion. I was awfully glad Colin stood by me.”

  Bell looked at Harry, realizing that he understood. “After the funeral, I went off to the Continent with friends for four years.”

  Harry looked up and smiled as if relieved. “That must have been an adventure.”