A Scandalous Wager Read online

  She vaguely felt his hand on her leg, gathering her skirts higher, lifting her leg to his waist, fitting himself between. Tension was simmering low in her belly and moving lower.

  Yes! Yes!

  No! Why had he stopped kissing her? Was it possible for lips to feel bereft?

  His lips were now at her breasts which were exposed and swollen and wanting. She liked his mouth hot on her. His hand was between her legs, touching her softly, confidently. It was the sweetest kind of torture. She had not experienced a man’s fingers there before, even on her wedding night. Was this how it should have been? It was shockingly delicious.

  As much as he was slowly, exquisitely, driving her mad, she held no illusions as to what this was. This lustful seduction had been his intention all along. He probably seduced women every other day like this.

  Part of her didn’t care any longer. She just wanted more. Part of her cried at the injustice of the reality of what this really was and where they were. In an armoire of all places! The knowledge she had let this happen was painful. What was she doing? More importantly, what was she doing with Bellamy? She had decided she would not give in to him and become just another woman who had warmed his bed, hadn’t she? It was too dangerous; he was too dangerous—to her heart. For why dabble in something that could not ever be?

  She pulled her hand away from his crotch sharply, causing her elbow to bang loudly against the side of the armoire. The pain was sharp and intense. It was hard to believe her hand had been there at all. She could not remember putting it there, but it would be a long time before she forgot the feel of him hard beneath her palm. Lisbeth bit back the dull ache that throbbed up her whole arm.

  ‘Lisbeth? Are you all right?’ His voice was a combination of concern and frustration.

  He had asked her earlier would it be so terrible, them together. He had no idea how very bad a thing it could be. There were things about her he should never know. Shameful, ugly things. All of a sudden the armoire felt stifling. The sides seemed to shrink, closing in all around her. She had to get out, away from him. For both their sakes.

  Lisbeth frantically began moving jackets out of her way. ‘I…I can’t do this.’

  She burst out of the armoire with a gasp and landed harshly against the desk.

  ‘Lisbeth!’ She heard him call after her again but she ignored him, pulling her bodice back into place with desperate shaky fingers. Seeking her reflection in Selbourne’s shaving mirror was a mistake. The woman who looked at her was horrifyingly tussled. Hair dark, sticking out at all angles and lips wantonly plump. She looked like a Covent Garden whore. What had she done? Shame washed over her and left her gasping and angry.

  Oliver stepped out of the armoire slowly, tucking in his shirt and pulling on his jacket sleeves, adjusting his neck cloth. ‘I take it you came to your senses?’

  ‘How could you do that to me?’ she blasted at him, humiliation washing over her and making her feel ill.

  His brows rose to his hairline. ‘A lesser man would be demanding you finish what you started. Perhaps you should be asking yourself the question, how could I do that to him?’

  She spun to face him. ‘Oh, how typical! How like a man!’

  ‘How typical of a woman to say no to her own desire. Let me remind you it was you who suggested we enter the armoire in the first place.’ He gave her a sad little smile which only made her angrier with him because she wanted to say yes to her desire for him more than anything.

  ‘I’m leaving,’ she announced, having hastily pinned her hair back into something resembling respectability.

  ‘Of course you are.’ He gave her a mocking bow, making no effort not to look at her.

  She spun around from the mirror again, struggling to make her bodice stay in place. ‘What do you mean, of course I am?’

  ‘I mean you always leave when things get a little…uncomfortable. You run away to your little schedule and your infernal pocket watch. You hide behind them. It is no way to live.’

  ‘I lived my life well enough before you came along, thank you very much.’

  ‘Did you? Did you really?’ With a mocking salute he left her.

  Damn him! She thought with fury. Who was he to tell her what she should do? He knew nothing about her, about what she had been through, nothing.

  ***

  Oliver was angry, with himself and with Lisbeth. He entered the overheated ballroom and wanted to immediately leave again. Too many bodies, too many eyes and the drone of too many voices was like an assault to his nerves. Nerves that were already stretched to the limit. Things had gone way beyond a kiss. He could still smell her on his clothes, on his fingers. She had been more passionate than he had anticipated and it had shocked and delighted him. His body had taken her tokens of encouragement and charged ahead. Her response, initially so promising, had suddenly gone cold. For what reason, he had no idea. The puzzle which was Lisbeth was both complex and multilayered.

  She desired him, but something was holding her back. Surely she knew she was free to do what she wished as a widow. The whole of London was convinced they were already lovers. Perhaps she really did dislike him or simply distrusted him. Perhaps Blackhurst had been a bore in bed or just simply a boar.

  ‘Bellamy, penny for them?’

  Oliver turned towards the voice. ‘Dalmere, how long have you been here?’

  ‘Long enough to know you have been gone from this room for some time and only just returned.’ Dalmere gave him a knowing wink.

  Oliver smiled in reply. If only he knew…

  ‘Where is the lady who has so captivated your nether regions lately? Honestly, I don’t know why you even bother coming to these events at all if you don’t actually stay around to attend.’

  Oliver laughed. ‘What can I say? The lady is…demanding.’ And that was no lie. ‘She will be here shortly, I am sure.’

  He looked around the crowded room before turning back to Dalmere. ‘Tell me, what was Henry like before he passed? My aunt said he was much changed in the weeks leading up to his untimely death.’

  Dalmere took a sip of his drink before regarding him. ‘He was changed.’

  ‘How so?’

  Dalmere looked away. ‘I hesitate to tell you.’

  ‘Why?’

  When Dalmere looked back, Oliver saw anger in his eyes. ‘Because you loved him.’

  Oliver tensed. ‘I don’t quite get your meaning.’

  ‘I do not want to alter your memories of him. I loved him too, he was my friend. You are better to remember him as you do now.’

  ‘He was that bad?’

  Dalmere ran a hand through his golden angelic curls. ‘Do you really want to know? Once I tell you, you cannot undo what has been done.’

  ‘I have to know.’

  Dalmere sighed. ‘Very well. Your brother was in love with the Countess of Blackhurst.’

  Oliver closed his eyes. For Henry to have mentioned a woman to his aunt meant his brother had held the Countess in high esteem. His own mind had then assumed Henry might have had strong feelings towards her. Why then did it hurt to have it confirmed? Shouldn’t he be happy Henry had fallen in love? Even if unrequited? It wasn’t like the Countess was his wife. Yet it felt so much like betrayal. He didn’t understand his own feelings when it came to Lisbeth. ‘Were they lovers?’ He’d asked this same question to Lisbeth at Lady Fortesque’s and she had denied it. He’d accepted her answer but here he was asking Dalmere the same question. Part of him wished he had not asked it because deep down he didn’t want to know the answer.

  Dalmere looked around them quickly and said, ‘I don’t think so, although he would have done anything for her. Anything! He hated Blackhurst by the end,’ Dalmere said with a shake of his head. ‘We all did in our way. Henry, however, once saw the after-effects of Blackhurst’s temper in the form of bruises and such on the lady and went into a rage.’

  Oliver’s blood stopped. Blackhurst had beat Lisbeth? Disgust filled him with a fury that made his head th
rob, his gut clench, and his fists tighten. He had seen her terror in the carriage on their first night. She had flinched away as if waiting for him to strike her. Now it all made sense. Now it made him angry. Henry had always been soft-hearted towards women. Oliver could imagine him wanting to come to her aid like Sir Galahad on a white steed. It answered quite a few questions and yet left so many unanswered. ‘What did Henry do?’

  ‘He was going to call Blackhurst out. He told me he was going to put a bullet between the Earl of Blackhurst’s eyes and send him to hell where he belonged.’

  Oliver gasped. ‘Good God!’ This he could not picture his brother doing.

  Dalmere shook his head. ‘I managed to talk him out of it but the damage was done. Henry became like a man possessed. He cursed Blackhurst to the devil at every opportunity. He said to me that he wanted to keep her from harm. He said he spoke to her. I don’t know what he said exactly but he might have offered her assistance or the chance to escape if she needed it.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘And what? I don’t think she took him seriously. He was the shy type. Maybe he did not articulate his amorous intentions to his advantage. Either that or she was happy to be slapped around by Blackhurst and refused him.

  ‘He was her slave, ready and eager to do her bidding. I worry he may have gone too far and committed the ultimate crime of passion—for her.’

  Oliver leaned against the wall for support. No! Henry would never have done such a thing. What Dalmere was implying was impossible, improbable, and completely mad. He felt like casting up his accounts. ‘Are you suggesting —’

  His brother’s friend held up his hands. ‘I see I have upset you. I have no proof, of course, and I, myself, am disgusted I could even think it of him. But really, if you could have seen the murder in his eyes that day.’

  Oliver turned towards him sharply. ‘And you told no one of this?’

  ‘Why would I? The duel never happened. No one else but I knew of his feelings towards Blackhurst or his wife. Who would have believed it of mild-mannered Henry Whitely? It is possible Lady Blackhurst had him under the thumb, though. Maybe she is the reason your brother invested with Blackhurst in the first place. Perhaps together they planned to use Blackhurst’s money against him and maybe even run away together once he was gone. I can only speculate, of course, and if I have learnt anything from this debacle it is one should never speculate…with scandal or money.’

  ‘Do you really think my brother was capable of murder?’

  ‘He did seem consumed by dark thoughts before Blackhurst’s death and plagued by paranoia after.’ Dalmere shrugged. ‘I don’t know. A desperate man will do anything under the right kind of pressure and with the right kind of incentive.’

  Oliver paled.

  Dalmere looked at him thoughtfully. ‘I shouldn’t have told you and I do not think you should delve into this issue any further. It will only make your memory of your brother tainted. The fact is Blackhurst was an arse. A manipulative, Machiavellian genius with brutal tendencies. He deserved what he got.’

  ‘I just can’t imagine my brother capable of killing anyone. He was a gentle, dependable, steadfast sort of fellow.’

  ‘Yes, yes he was.’ Dalmere nodded gravely. ‘It is how you should remember him.’ He gave Oliver a pat on the shoulder.

  Dalmere left Bellamy frowning into his drink. Oliver’s head hurt. His heart hurt. Dalmere had painted an ugly picture of not just his brother but Lisbeth too. He could not believe that she enjoyed her husband’s brutality. Therefore, would she court it by playing with her brother’s affections? On the other hand, would a desperate woman use the affections of another to kill her hateful husband? The scenario was not beyond comprehension, but the players were. If Henry had truly loved Lisbeth, he would never have put her in potential danger in the form of Blackhurst’s anger.

  Would he have risked everything, his title, his estate, for her? A month ago Oliver would have said no. But Henry had invested in a speculation that was not even legal by contract. And he had taken out a loan to do so. He had risked and lost the family fortune in the process. The question remained. Why? Was it simply Blackhurst’s superior persuasive talents or was it love for Blackhurst’s wife?

  He hardly dared contemplate his brother doing such a foolish thing merely because of an infatuation.

  Chapter 9

  Lisbeth had a newfound admiration for actors. Not for their lifestyle, but for their ability to play a part and sustain it. She too was playing a part. Her alter ego, the Black Raven, was used to stares. Used to the finger pointing and the whispered conversations as she passed. It was a part she’d been forced to play by the ton. A part she no longer wanted to play but had to, for just a little longer, though it was getting harder to pull off, especially in front of Bellamy.

  Lisbeth saw him standing alone, deep in his thoughts at the side of Selbourne’s ballroom. She walked over and stood next to him, taking in the sights and sounds of the crowded room before her. She didn’t really know what to say to him. What could she say? He knew she was there but he did not look at her or acknowledge her presence.

  She looked around at the other guests. They all seemed to be having a grand time. Laughing and chatting and dancing. At this moment she hated them all.

  Then Lisbeth saw her, just a flash as she moved in and out of the crowd, but she would recognise her anywhere. Marie! Her sister was here? Adrenaline raced through her veins urging her body into movement. She took two steps before she even realised and was able to stop herself from picking up her skirts and sprinting across the crowded ballroom. Her eyes frantically searched for one more glimpse of her beloved sibling. Tears pricked behind her eyes, her throat closing around her sister’s name, but she was gone. An ache invaded her chest, like a steel band pulled tight around her heart.

  Marie!

  She turned to Bellamy. He only raised a brow at her. ‘I just saw my sister,’ she said, her voice filled with barely held back excitement.

  He cocked his head to the side. ‘You have a sister?’

  ‘Yes, younger by nearly five years…and she is here.’

  ‘Then by all means, do not let me stop you from speaking with her.’ His voice held more than a little annoyance.

  ‘I can’t. Not here.’

  ‘I would think this the perfect time,’ he said but he was looking over her shoulder to the room beyond. ‘I would give anything to talk to my brother right now,’ he said, his voice oddly strained.

  ‘You don’t understand. There are too many eyes here.’

  His gaze returned to her. ‘The Black Raven cowering to the mob? You should go to her.’

  ‘I would not wish to upset her.’

  ‘How long has it been since you saw her?’

  ‘Five years, seven months and a dozen or so days.’

  He looked shocked, and waved her away. ‘Don’t waste this opportunity. You may not get another.’

  ‘Like the opportunity you didn’t get? To say goodbye?’

  Bellamy’s eyes narrowed. ‘Yes. And to ask him questions, about the speculation, Blackhurst and…you.’ He looked at her with such a searching look. Heat took over her body and sizzled all the way to her toes. She broke the contact, uncomfortable with the way he made her feel. When she chanced another look at him he was frowning.

  ‘It seems your sister is not the only member of your family here tonight.’

  Lisbeth turned and gasped as her grandmother came limping towards them. Despite needing the aid of a walking stick she was moving at an impressive speed. Her face was a mask of grim determination.

  Bellamy bowed. ‘Lady Fortesque, what a pleasure,’ his tone sarcastic.

  ‘Bellamy,’ her grandmother acknowledged. She gave no indication she had noted his tone.

  She turned towards Lisbeth. ‘Marie is here.’

  ‘Yes, I just saw her.’

  Her grandmother’s eyes narrowed. ‘You spoke to her?’

  ‘No, I have not spoken to her. I merely
saw her in the crush.’

  ‘Good. You and Bellamy must leave,’ she said, waving her arms in a shooing motion.

  Bellamy stepped forward. ‘With all due respect, we will leave when we are ready.’

  ‘Do not make a scene,’ her grandmother hissed, turning towards Lisbeth. ‘Your coming back among us is already bad enough.’

  What other kind of response did she expect? ‘Does she know I am here?’

  ‘Not to my knowledge and I want to keep it that way.’

  ‘I think it should be up to her whether or not she wishes it.’

  ‘I agree,’ Bellamy said.

  ‘Stay out of this Bellamy,’ Lady Fortesque said, before she looked around her quickly then turned back to Lisbeth. ‘Do not be a fool and ruin it for everyone. I will try and organise a meeting…at the opera…next week. I cannot guarantee your reception.’

  Lisbeth was dumbstruck for a moment. Her grandmother was offering to set up a meeting between her and Marie? ‘Thank you. I would never make a scene or do anything to hurt her.’

  Her grandmother studied her for a moment, nodded, and walked away.

  ‘You shouldn’t let her dictate terms with you. Seek out your sister on your terms.’ His tone was irritated.

  ‘I would if I thought it would be the best way, but my grandmother is right, in this at least.’ Lisbeth looked down at her hands clenched in her skirts. She had an overwhelming want to sink to the ground and sob her eyes out in despair and happiness. But the Black Raven would never do such a thing.

  Without a word, Bellamy stepped forward and offered her his arm. She took it and together they left the ballroom, her sister, and Selbourne’s armoire behind.

  ***

  Lisbeth was thankful for the silence in the carriage. However, there was an energy in the air, of issues unresolved, that had her sitting tensely in her seat. Bellamy said not a word, just kept staring at her. Was he still angry about the armoire? He wasn’t usually the type to hold on to his anger for long. Still, he kept his gaze on her. What was he looking for?

  Her nerves stretched like the fine hair on a violin bow and she wondered how much more she could take before they broke into disarray. Seeing her sister, being warned off by her grandmother and the unquenched sexual tension between Bellamy and herself, was not doing her anxiety any favours. To make matters worse, she could still feel his kiss on her lips and remember the heat of his hand as it glided up her thigh…to her…