Free A Little Bit Wicked by Robyn DeHart

happen as soon as possible. Then you, dear Clarissa, may return to your regular activities.” She paused and pointed her pencil at the girl. “Though I would suggest steering clear of Mr. Rodale’s gambling establishment.”
    “I have no desire to see Mr. Rodale again,” Clarissa said firmly.
    “You know that’s not really an option right now, my dear. Remember, he is a close family friend. He will in all likelihood be attending some of these functions with you and your brother,” Vivian said. “We must keep up appearances.”
    “Indeed,” Clarissa said, then her lips tightened and she said nothing more.
    Vivian couldn’t help but wonder precisely what had gone on between Mr. Rodale and Clarissa. After the women had left, she reviewed the list of names scrawled into her notebook. With the plan firmly in hand, she knew the very next step was to give Marcus some practical instructions. He’d been gone from London for too long.
    She stood at the window and watched the women be ushered into their waiting carriage. They rolled off and Vivian almost walked away, but a flash of black caught her attention. There, across the street, sat that same rig she’d spotted the other day—same worn-out crest, same face peering out from the widow. Vivian stepped away from her own window, her hands shaking.
    Well, this was ridiculous. She marched herself out her front door with every intention of walking over to the carriage and confronting whoever found her so fascinating. But as soon as she reached the sidewalk, the carriage rolled away.
    It was alarming, yet rather curious.

Chapter Six
    Marcus had been summoned to Vivian’s townhouse shortly after luncheon. He was led to her formal parlor where he found her already seated. The chair she sat upon appeared to be out of place, though, perhaps brought in from another room. Whereas the rest of the furniture looked plush, her wooden straight-backed chair kept her sitting completely upright.
    “Vivian,” he said with a nod. “Are you redecorating?”
    She gave him a sly smile. “No, I only recently refashioned this room.”
    “For a woman so concerned with propriety, you certainly are comfortable meeting with me, an eligible bachelor, alone. Are you not concerned for your virtue?”
    “A woman of my advanced years need not concern herself with the worries of a younger woman.”
    “Advanced years—honestly, Vivian, you make yourself sound as if you have one foot in the grave. Trust me, your virtue could be in even more danger now,” he said.
    She inhaled sharply. “Lord Ashford, let us try and stay on task. This chair is here for a specific reason, but I am thrilled to see that you are so visually observant and noticed it was a new addition to the room. Trust me when I say that it will make this exercise go much more smoothly.”
    “Exercise? I am intrigued.” He sat nearest her, on a cream-colored oval-backed chair.
    “There is much you need to learn about wooing a lady and winning her hand.”
    “Is that what this is going to be about?” He sat back, utterly amused by her. He would say one thing—she never ceased to amaze him with her antics, especially since she was completely sincere. “You intend to teach me how to court a lady?”
    “Well, not today—there is much to discuss before we actually get to the courtship,” she said. “Remember, it is always good to learn new things.”
    “Consider me a most attentive pupil,” he said.
    “Excellent. Let us begin, then. I know that you have been out of the country for much of your formative years. Therefore, I suspect some of the fairer sex’s cues are lost on you.” It was then that he saw the fan hanging from her wrist.
    “Cues? Vivian, to what are you referring?”
    She withdrew her wrist from the loop of the fan and popped it open on her thigh. “In order to find a bride, you will need to know what subtle messages women are sending you. In the delicate language of the fan, for instance.”
    He grinned,