A Scandalous Wager Read online

  Ashton.

  Oliver stood, threw the missive into the fire, and wiped a hand down his face. He had hoped Ashton’s client would give up on this madness. Obviously not. He knew things looked bad for Lisbeth, especially considering what had come to light yesterday regarding her marriage to Blackhurst. She had every motivation to kill the bastard. But then, so did a dozen more—including his own dear departed brother. What a mess this was all turning out to be.

  Returning to his brother’s desk, he picked up Lady Blackhurst’s schedule—Mozart’s Don Giovanni at the opera. It looked like her grandmother had come through after all.

  ***

  Oliver. Lisbeth could not stop thinking about him. Part of her didn’t want to but she couldn’t help it. The way he had held her, whispered those ridiculous endearments in her ear and helped her vent some of her anger on Nathaniel’s study was something she would always be grateful for.

  She felt her face flush at the thought of what had happened in Nathaniel’s study. Such an embarrassing display would have made most men run for their lives and not stop until they hit Portsmouth and yet Oliver had stayed. Not only stayed but comforted her and asked for nothing in return. It was strange.

  Stranger still, he had not even tried to kiss her. It was unlike him not to at least try. It was unlike her to be disappointed by the fact, but she was. She wanted Oliver to kiss her. She had thought she would never want to kiss another man, not ever, not after Nathaniel. So this was quite a revelation.

  She picked up her quill and let the feathered end whisper across her cheek. She wondered briefly if Oliver had inherited his strong jaw line from his mother or his father’s side of the family. Were his warm chocolate eyes a Whitely trait?

  She heard the knock and glanced up to see Rollands come into the room.

  ‘Is it strange, Rollands, to want to know everything about him?’ she asked when he deposited her afternoon post on the table.

  ‘About who, my lady?’

  ‘Bellamy, of course.’

  ‘Oh, him,’ Rollands replied.

  She looked up at him, surprised by his tone. ‘I thought you liked him.’

  ‘I am unsure of my exact thoughts on the matter at this time, my lady.’

  ‘Is this because of yesterday? He didn’t know about my fear of Nathaniel’s study, you know.’

  ‘Yet he man-handled you into the room by force. It was not his place.’

  ‘You are right. It was not his place but I cannot be angry with him. He did me a great service.’

  ‘I wish you had let me accompany you into that room instead. It would have been less…messy.’

  Lisbeth stifled a laugh. ‘I agree, but it was most cathartic. Was Mrs Rollands terribly upset with us?’

  ‘She has been in a mood for some time since finishing up in the study. She has the poor maids in fear of their lives.’

  ‘Oh dear. Should I have a word?’

  ‘I have already spoken with her.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘She is now in a mood with me.’ He smiled. ‘I am quite used to her moods, my lady.’

  ‘Oh, but, Rollands, I cannot be the cause of your marital misery.’

  ‘I assure you her mood will pass. Do not worry. You might, however, want to worry about Lord Bellamy.’

  ‘Why should I worry about Lord Bellamy?’

  ‘It has come to my notice that he has not collected on any wagers.’

  She gasped in surprise. ‘None? That cannot be!’ She stood up and stalked over to the window to look out at the busy street below then turned back towards her butler, a frown between her brows.

  He shrugged. ‘Perhaps he has another reason for aiding you.’

  Shock made her seek a chair. ‘He cannot have known why I let him in back then, that I had needed his assistance to re-enter the ton. He cannot…I thought he was without funds?’ None of this made any sense, how had he been living all this time without claiming his wagers? She did not want to think he was deceiving her about his financial standing. She did not want to think ill of him. Not now, not after yesterday.

  ‘Odd, is it not?’ Rollands asked. ‘Especially as my source tells me Lord Bellamy is racking up debts as we speak.’

  ‘It does not make sense. Why would he continue to carry out the wagers and then not collect the money? Does he plan to pauper the ton all at once?’

  ‘He may still be living off the money he received when he cashed in his commission.’

  Yes, of course. ‘You are right. Perhaps he has just been too busy.’

  ‘Too busy? To collect money?’

  ‘There has to be a reason.’ She sat back down at her desk. She needed to be still, to think why he would not have collected the money owed to him. They looked at each other for a moment, both thinking.

  ‘Have you considered his pride?’ Rollands suggested.

  ‘His pride? No, I had not considered it because I thought him a man who possessed neither sense nor pride.’ She tapped the letter opener on the table. ‘I was wrong about his sense. Perhaps I am wrong about his pride as well.’

  ‘I will look into it further. I should not have mentioned it until I knew for sure.’

  ‘Yes, please do.’ She bit down on her lip, wondering why Oliver would not have taken what was his. There must be a logical reason. Perhaps it was his pride, just as Rollands said. In that moment she decided this revelation would not ruin her night. ‘In the meantime I must get ready for the opera. Millicent will no doubt be already waiting for me. That will be all, thank you, Rollands.’

  Rollands nodded and backed out of the room, leaving her alone with her thoughts. She refused to think anything negative about Oliver, not unless it was proven to be otherwise. Still, what would make a man act in such a manner if not to deceive? He was already deceiving the ton by hiding his financial standing. She could not fault him for that. What was it that bothered her so much about his actions? He was entitled to do what he wished with the money he won from the wagers. If pride was stopping him from collecting his winnings, who was she to tell him otherwise.

  She shook her head and stood. It was time to get ready.

  It was too important a night to be worrying about Bellamy or his pride.

  ***

  Lisbeth was beauty personified tonight, Oliver thought. She was wearing a bright crimson evening gown that highlighted the flawless expanse of flesh at her neck and shoulders. A most wonderful set of rubies and diamonds adorned her ears and throat. This was quite noticeable considering she usually only wore a small golden cross and a pair of golden earrings.

  His eyes hurt from looking at her, trying to keep this image stored away in his brain. She was like a goddess come to steal his soul. He could hardly breathe for the effort of suppressing his desire for her. She had even smiled at him. It had been more than a smile but not quite a grin. It was an odd experience that he wanted to relive over and over until the end of his days.

  He could not say with any certainty what was going on in her head but there was a certain agitation or excitement around her tonight that was unnerving. She was always such a picture of stillness but tonight she fidgeted, sighed and spent a lot of the trip to the opera with her gaze out the window. What was she thinking? He wished she was thinking about him.

  When the carriage jerked to a halt her eyes flew wide open and focused on him. He expected her to pull out her pocket watch, but she did not. He expected her to pull out her schedule, but that did not come out of her reticule either. Interesting.

  ‘I’m sure it’s nothing,’ he reassured her.

  ‘Of course.’ She smiled at him again.

  It was dazzling, sent his heart thudding, and made his mouth dry. Oliver stuck his head out the window. One, to gain some air and restore his equilibrium and two, to briefly ascertain where they were.

  ‘I’m afraid it may be a bit of a wait,’ he said. ‘The usual crush has started and it could be a half hour before we get anywhere near the steps.’

  ‘That is fin
e. We will wait.’ She placed her hands back in her lap and looked out the window again. ‘The city looks so pretty at night. You can’t see the dirt and despair for all the twinkling lights and stars.’

  ‘You may not be able to see the dirt but you can still smell it.’ He looked out the window again. ‘We could get out here and be inside before the champagne runs out,’ he offered.

  Her eyes returned to him. ‘Really, Bellamy, is that all you think about?’ Then she did the most amazing thing. She laughed. A sweet, tinkling sound. It vibrated merrily around the interior of their carriage like bird song. ‘Do not answer that question,’ she quickly added.

  ‘Come on, it shall be an adventure.’ He needed to put some space between them before he leapt across the carriage and kissed her senseless.

  Lisbeth shook her head at him. ‘My gown will be ruined and no doubt you are hoping I shall trip and break an ankle on the way so you have an excuse not to go.’

  It was his turn to smile. ‘I would never do such a thing. I am actually looking forward to Figaro Gets Married.’

  ‘That is the Marriage of Figaro and we are seeing Don Giovanni which I suspect you know and are playing the fool just to tease me. I think I am beginning to see through your ploys, Bellamy.’

  He laughed. ‘So you are, Countess, so you are.’

  Lisbeth may have seen through this particular ploy of his but she was far from figuring him out completely. There was much to learn about this man and she hoped to start tonight if all went well with her sister.

  The house lights were blazing when their carriage finally made it to the steps. A cacophony of gaiety and excited conversation spilled out onto the stairs leading to the Opera House. Ladies in their finery displayed their gowns to best advantage under the huge chandeliers. Intricate beading adorned their dresses, shot through with silver thread and precious gems. All made from various exotic materials sourced from far flung corners, by means better worth ignoring.

  The picture was dazzling and confronting. The poorest of lords and the richest of merchants vied alike for the right to be most envied when really all they did was envy each other. One, for the riches a title could not guarantee, and the other, the social acceptance that only marrying a title could bring. And so, publicly, they politely excused each other’s faults for their own ends while secretly hating each other as only rivals can.

  Here, in this place where the entertainment was only as important as the people who attended it, Lisbeth hoped for a new beginning. To once again have the warmth of her sister’s smile fall upon her.

  Marie’s new husband, Lord Fenwick, had looked handsome enough when she had watched them emerge from the church a married couple, but Lisbeth knew not whether this man was worthy of her wonderful and generous sister’s heart. She hoped tonight to find the answer.

  If she could only put her mind at rest and be assured of her sister’s happiness, all then would be well. Nerves made her stomach lurch and her head ache. If only she could be confident of her sister’s welcome. Better still, if only she could turn back the clock and make things right. Never marry Nathaniel or leave the security of her family. Regrets, she knew, were a waste of time and in order to make her life worth living she could depend on no one but herself. After all, she could blame no one but herself for marrying Nathaniel in the first place.

  The ton had become accustomed to Lisbeth’s attendance to their varied entertainments but still there was a mixed reaction amongst the crowd who gathered in the foyer drinking their champagne and showing off their precious assets, whatever they may be. Lisbeth simply sailed on regardless. It would take a Spanish armada to stop her from seeing her sister tonight.

  Oliver felt a certain sort of angst come over him. He knew what it was, he could smell it—danger. Someone was not particularly happy about the Countess of Blackhurst being here tonight. He scanned the crowd but could see no one being specifically aggressive. Still, the feeling nagged at him and he wished he had brought a weapon with him. A small dagger would have been sufficient.

  It was strange, for this was the first time he had felt this way and he had escorted her to many functions over the last few weeks. Not even that very first night at Wainwright’s had he felt any need to be wary. Why was tonight so different?

  He picked up a glass of champagne and handed it to Lisbeth, looking fleetingly her way.

  ‘Is there something wrong?’ she asked.

  ‘Wrong?’

  ‘Yes, you seem distracted. Are you ill?’

  He turned towards her then and regarded her. ‘Do I look ill? Not that illness has anything to do with being distracted—which I am not.’

  Lisbeth raised a brow. ‘It is only that you have not smiled once since we got here. Nor have you even attempted to tease me.’ She sipped her champagne and watched him.

  ‘It is also very unlike you to be concerned about my welfare. That you even noticed is very flattering, I suppose.’

  He saw her wince for she knew he was right.

  ‘The truth is that there are many people here tonight who do not like you. I am being cautious.’

  ‘Cautious. I see. Is it very painful?’

  A smile cracked at the side of his mouth. ‘More than you will ever know,’ he said. ‘Which side did your grandmother say her box was?’

  ‘The eastern side. What are you looking for?’ she whispered in his ear.

  He wished she hadn’t done that, as much as he wished she would do it again. ‘Suspicious persons.’

  She looked around the assembled crowd. ‘Oh, and what do suspicious persons look like?’

  He looked around too. ‘Shifty, amongst other things.’

  ‘Shifty? Like your friend, Dalmere?’

  He looked at her surprised. ‘You think Dalmere looks shifty?’ He laughed.

  ‘Actually, I think he is too handsome for his own good. However, he gives me a peculiar feeling. I know he does not like me but nor does anyone else. Have you known him long?’

  Oliver was stunned by her confession. ‘I met him after I returned to London, before I met you. He was my brother’s friend. He befriended me when I felt I didn’t have or deserve a friend.’

  ‘Well, I for one, am glad he did, otherwise you would not be here looking out for suspicious persons on my behalf.’

  They started to ascend the stairs. ‘One would think that you are saying you forgive me for the other night, when I took your schedule, and may actually be starting to like me. Considering all that concern and gladness you are currently feeling towards me.’

  ‘One would be thinking wrongly then.’

  Her tone was suitably cool but he saw her lips twitch. Oliver smiled, pulled the curtain to the box aside and bowed her through. ‘I do believe you have developed a sense of humour, Lady Blackhurst.’

  Lisbeth passed through and smiled to herself. Suspicious persons aside, she felt safe with Oliver around and she was grateful for his presence. Bellamy may have distracted her for a while but sitting here in the box brought back the reason for this visit to the opera. She closed her eyes for a moment and prayed that Marie would have matured enough to hear her out.

  She heard them before they entered. Marie’s voice rang sweet with excitement and Lisbeth could only hope it was because of her. When they were behind the curtain she could clearly discern their words.

  ‘And Mrs Merryweather said that I sang like an angel with a face to match. Martin was so proud and he bought me this gown and said that I may have whatever trimmings I pleased and —’

  The curtain was pulled aside and Bellamy rose to face the women. Lisbeth found herself shaking but could not stand.

  ‘Oh, hello,’ her sister said when she saw Bellamy.

  Lady Fortesque made the introductions. ‘Marie, this is the Earl of Bellamy. Lord Bellamy, my granddaughter, Lady Fenwick.’

  ‘A pleasure to meet you, Lady Fenwick,’ Oliver said as he bowed. Marie smiled and did a small curtsey but it was obvious she was a little shocked at his presence.
r />   Lady Fortesque then took control of the situation and bustled Lady Fenwick further into the box. Lisbeth stood and turned towards them.

  ‘Hello, Marie.’ She hoped the quiver she felt in her throat had not come out in her voice.

  They stood, both staring at each other. Marie gasped and took a step back, bumping into her grandmother. Lisbeth too was shocked. Marie was all grown up and beautiful. So like their mother. Her dark hair was piled high into a ring of curls with a large lower curl lying over her shoulder. Small beads had been threaded through her hair like raindrops. Her deep blue eyes were wide with confusion. The pain that settled around Lisbeth’s heart made it hard for it to pound in its usual rhythm. Oh, how she had missed her sister! Her arms were aching with the need to hold her.

  Finally, Marie looked away from Lisbeth and turned towards her grandmother. ‘How could you do this to me?’

  Chapter 12

  ‘Listen to me.’ Lady Fortesque stared at her granddaughter Marie, a ferocious frown marring her features. ‘It was against my better judgement at first but I think you should at least hear your sister out,’ she urged.

  Marie shook her head, glancing around her as if looking for the quickest escape route before returning her stare to her grandmother. ‘I must leave immediately. If Fenwick knew…he would never let me out of his sight again.’

  Lisbeth let her gaze drop to her lap. She should have prepared herself for such a reaction. She had let blind optimism rule her heart tonight. It was a foolish mistake. She understood Marie’s concerns. Her baby sister did not wish to displease her new husband. Lisbeth could not fault her for that. Still, there was an ache within her. It had been there since their estrangement began but now it threatened to consume her in a flood of pain and sorrow.

  ‘Pish posh, Fenwick will do no such thing.’ Lady Fortesque pulled her granddaughter further into the box. ‘Greet your sister as you should.’

  Marie whirled around, confusion written clearly on her face . ‘As I should? And how is that, Grandmother? With open arms? After everything we went through because of her?’