A Scandalous Wager Page 20

‘Nor this morning,’ he said with a wink. ‘I can’t imagine what trials and tribulations you have in store for me.’

  ‘Not nearly as torturous as you deserve,’ Lisbeth replied, sipping her tea to hide her smile.

  ‘In that case I must confess to being a little disappointed. I’ve become quite attached to your particular form of torture.’

  Sighing loudly for effect, she put down her cup went out into the hall and returned with his schedule in her hand. She passed it to him and resumed her seat.

  He laughed as he unfolded it. ‘Now, let me see…’

  He took his time reading it. She waited for the inevitable snide remark or blusterous comment but he said nothing. He refolded the schedule and slid it into his coat pocket.

  Still, he said nothing. He picked up his cup and took a sip.

  Nothing.

  Lisbeth raised her eyebrow, wondering what he was doing. After a few more seconds he looked up and raised a brow too.

  ‘I take it you don’t find fault with any of our appointments, then?’ Lisbeth watched him, warily.

  He smiled. ‘Why would I?’

  ‘You know very well why.’

  ‘I have no aversion to Hyde Park. I do not harbour allergies for grass, bees, or ducks.’

  ‘But? Last night —’

  ‘Last night taught me to listen to my intuition and to be prepared. You have no need to fear. I will keep you safe. However, I do find it fascinating that a woman such as you would want to put herself through such a ritual in the first place. A pretty and petty procession through Hyde Park at the fashionable hour is, according to what I’ve heard, a painfully slow process with very little…procession about it.’

  ‘You’ve never ridden in the park, have you?’ Lisbeth put down her cup and studied him.

  ‘Ridden, yes, promenaded like a fool, no. Sorry to disappoint you but I was a little too busy dodging lead shot, cannon fire and sabres, I’m afraid.’

  She smiled. ‘I promise you will not have to dodge anything more alarming than a few stares and fakery.’

  ‘And we are doing this because?’

  ‘I need to show the ton that despite what happened last night at the theatre, I am not going to conceal myself in my house, not anymore. I refuse to hide from scandal, no matter how mad it makes my brother-in-law.’

  Oliver put his paper down, stood, and walked over to her. He leaned down, putting his hands on the arms of her chair. Then he leaned down and kissed her. She reached up and caressed his cheek which was rough with stubble. He turned his head and kissed the palm of her hand.

  ‘I do believe I should take my leave,’ he said.

  Alarm flew through her like a hurricane. ‘Why?’

  ‘It seems I must make myself presentable if we are to send the tongues of the ton to twittering.’

  ‘Oh,’ she said, quite lost in his eyes and much relieved. She felt her body react to him, wanting him. She squeezed her thighs together. How will she ever get used to the way he makes her feel?

  He stood and kissed her hand. ‘Adieu, Lisbeth, until this afternoon.’

  When he was gone the house seemed cold and lifeless again. She stood, took a few deep breaths, and made her way to her bedroom. She too must make herself presentable.

  ***

  Hyde Park was a mass of carriages of all types, as well as men on fine horses. Oliver guided the horses onto Rotten Row and joined the long and congested line of carriages. He longed to have the park empty so he could put the horses through their paces. Instead, he had to contend himself with plodding. He hated plodding.

  ‘I don’t know how you do it,’ Oliver murmured, looking up at the sky. It was a startling summer blue with only a few scattered clouds. He thought never to see it blue again but here it was with birds ducking and diving through its endlessness like they were dolphins in the Mediterranean Sea.

  ‘Do what?’ Lisbeth was fiddling about in her reticule while trying to balance her yellow parasol over her shoulder. It matched her afternoon dress and her bonnet which was trimmed with a ribbon of the same shade and a conservative peacock feather.

  ‘Have you looked at the sky today? Damn me, if it isn’t blue,’ Oliver said. What was she looking for in her reticule? He would have helped her with her search but he was driving her phaeton. A neat little beauty that she had surprised him with when he came to pick her up for this afternoon’s jaunt into Hyde Park. The black lacquer shone like onyx in the afternoon sun and thankfully did not have the Blackhurst crest emblazoned on it like everything else Blackhurst had acquired before his death. Oliver’s horses had been changed over to the speedy, high-perched conveyance in double-quick time.

  ‘Bellamy, language please,’ Lisbeth censored, giving up her search for a spyglass or whatever it was she had been looking for.

  ‘Beg pardon, my dear. It is just that it has been raining and grey for months and the day you decide to go to the park it is as if you commanded the weather just by writing it in your schedule.’

  ‘I hope you are not blaming the terrible weather we’ve had on me!’

  He laughed at her suddenly sour expression. ‘Not unless your powers extend to making volcanoes erupt.’

  ‘Oh, if only I could control the weather. I would command a little cloud to sit, just so, over your head and rain on you whenever you displease me,’ she said with a smirk.

  ‘Then I would be soaked from dawn until dusk.’

  She raised an eyebrow. ‘Only the daylight hours?’

  Oliver loved teasing her. ‘Of course, because I would never displease you when we were alone in bed together.’

  He had not been looking forward to the tedium of this afternoon. He now knew he would never be bored in her company.

  She tried for a censorious expression but there was laughter in her exquisite eyes when she looked at him.

  ‘That is a strong statement to make considering you have only been in my bed one night. Who is to say I will be inviting you back?’

  ‘Come, Lisbeth, are you trying to deny me the pleasure of my triumph?’

  She looked at him with that burning stare that made his trousers shrink. ‘Your modesty is unbelievable. Perhaps last night was actually my triumph, did you think of that?’

  ‘Perhaps we need a do over,’ he suggested, wiggling his eyebrows up and down. ‘Just to make sure, you understand.’

  ‘Oh, I understand, quite perfectly. There is only one problem.’

  ‘Which is?’

  She smiled sweetly. ‘It is not on my schedule and we have the Warrington ball tonight.’

  ‘That’s two problems and, really, both are worth ignoring.’

  ‘You have that smug look on your face again, Bellamy. I suspect you are making plans in that head of yours. I would advise against it lest it make your head explode and ruin your hair completely. I like it in that style—new valet?’

  She hadn’t removed the rod from her back completely but she was at least a little more bendable now. In fact she was endearingly flexible in all the ways that mattered.

  ‘Your concern for my hair is admirable. I think I like this kind and concerned side of you.’

  ‘Well, I do not want to spoil my dress, do I? That kind of stain just does not come out.’

  He threw his head back and laughed. He had an overwhelming urge to turn this expensive jig around and head for the nearest stand of trees. Just so he could ravish her most thoroughly.

  She was laughing, too.

  They travelled slowly, stopping to acknowledge the braver passersby every now and then. Lisbeth had been biding her time, waiting for the right time to ask him something which had been playing on her mind for a while.

  ‘Bellamy, why haven’t you been collecting on your wagers?’

  He looked sharply at her, his eyes like amber in the afternoon light. ‘What do you know of it?’

  ‘I know you haven’t collected one shilling. It was part of our agreement. I want you to collect the winnings.’

  ‘Was it Rollands? Y
our butler is far too sneaky.’ She watched as he contemplated the ribbons in his hands. ‘It’s not as simple as you make it sound.’

  ‘It is. You are making it more complicated. I wish you would not worry so much about your pride. Pride before a fall makes for a long drop, Bellamy.’

  ‘And you are an expert on pride.’

  What was he trying to say? ‘I’ve had to swallow my fair share.’

  He frowned. ‘So you have.’

  They travelled a little further, the slow pace grating on Oliver’s nerves. This all felt like a pointless exercise to him.

  ‘I want to see it,’ she blurted out when they had stopped again.

  He raised a brow. ‘I beg your pardon?’

  ‘The list. The list of wagers. I want to see it.’ She held his gaze. He couldn’t decide if she was the bravest woman he had ever met or the most foolish.

  ‘You already have it.’

  She crossed her arms. ‘The proper list, Bellamy. One I can read, if you please.’ She held out her hand, palm up.

  He took her hand and kissed it. ‘I think not, Countess.’

  Her expression was puzzled. ‘Why? Are they so terrible? So unimaginative you had to write them down in code?’

  He shook his head in disbelief. ‘Unimaginative? Ha! You have no idea how depraved the ton’s gentlemen can be.’ He took her hand and placed it back in her lap. ‘Half the wagers were committed to various betting books when the men in question were foxed. Do you really think they would put down nice, civilised things like, have a picnic in the park, or stroll down Bond Street? For all your Black Raven reputation you really are naive, aren’t you?’

  Her beautiful mouth formed a perfect O, but she recovered quickly. He felt regret for having to be so blunt with her but she had to realise that if she insisted on this farce, what exactly she was likely to discover. He didn’t want to put her through that if he could avoid it.

  Now her lips were pressed together and he knew he had lost his fight to protect her and instead brought out her fierce need to know everything.

  ‘I still want to see it. I think I have a right. They are about me, after all.’

  He sighed and shook his head. ‘I don’t suppose I can talk you out of this?’ She shook her head. ‘Fine!’ He pulled the phaeton over onto the grass and out of the way of the other traffic. ‘Here, read them for yourself,’ he said, handing her the list from his jacket pocket. ‘But don’t say I didn’t warn you.’

  She took it from him, biting her lip in indecision.

  ‘You don’t have to read it, Lisbeth. It won’t do you or me any good.’ He jumped down and handed the reins to a young boy. ‘Keep them safe and there will be a coin in it for you,’ he said to the lad, before handing Lisbeth down. He guided her down to a bench where she dutifully sat with list in hand.

  ‘I’ll be contemplating the plight of the ducks.’ With that he walked off, down to the edge of the serpentine that ran through Hyde Park only a few feet away.

  Lisbeth sat on the bench and watched him walk away. Her heart squeezed in her chest. She looked down at the folded list in her hand. Did she really want to know what was on it? Part of her yelled, No! The other half told her she must know, no matter the consequences. If nothing else it might give her an insight into why Bellamy won’t collect on his wagers as per their agreement.

  She unfolded the list and read the contents with shaky hands. She read down the list, noticing that some were already ruled out with a line where he had completed them. Her hands shook and her heart raced as she continued.

  My God! She was such a fool. Of course the men who had placed these wagers would want to humiliate her. They always had. Why, two years later should it be any different?

  She lifted a hand to her mouth in a quick involuntary move. He had tried to warn her, but still, the shock of finding out just how degenerate men could be had her gasping. Oliver had been right. She should not have read it, but she had now and she would have to deal with it.

  She gathered her breath and stood, looking around her. The park was filled to capacity, most likely due to the unusually fine weather. The sun may be peaking through but inside her if felt like it was cold and raining. A thunderstorm was brewing in her mind ready to strike out. How dare these men write such things about her, about anyone? She wanted to slap every man in sight but then she looked at Bellamy…and knew that she was wrong. Not all men were painted with the same brush. Some men held pride and honour above all else. Bellamy had tried to stop her from reading that revolting list of insults but she hadn’t listened.

  Lisbeth made her way to the stand of trees down near the water’s edge where Oliver was standing. He looked good, even from the back. The tails of his coat lifted slightly on the breeze, giving her a glimpse of his magnificent backside in buck-coloured breeches. He was tall and so handsome gazing out over the water, his hat sitting at a slight angle on his head.

  This man had loved her last night like she never knew she could be loved. He had opened her eyes to desire and pleasure so intense she thought she would go up in flames. He had offered her more than just his body last night. She had seen it in his eyes. Even now, he had tried to protect her, save her from hurt.

  She saw now that she would have to find some other way around their arrangement, but how? He would never take money directly from her and yet she knew he needed this money. Whatever fool thing his brother Henry had done, besides put his money and his faith in her late husband, Oliver should not have to pay for it. Still, if he would at least collect on those wagers he had already completed…

  She was so deep in thought she hadn’t realised she had made it to the river’s edge. She looked at Oliver and he looked at her. Was that pain she saw in his gaze?

  ‘Are you satisfied now, Countess? Has your curiosity been fulfilled?’

  She raised her chin a notch higher. ‘There are some wagers on this list I am willing to do,’ she said.

  Oliver gaped at her. ‘What?’

  ‘You were right. Most of them are…repulsive, but there are a few I would consider.’

  Now he looked astonished. She would have laughed at him under normal circumstances, but these were not normal circumstances.

  ‘Which ones in particular are you referring too?’

  ‘Well, the waltz for one.’

  He raised a brow at her.

  She raised one back. ‘I know what I said, but that was before.’

  He nodded. ‘Alright, what others?’

  ‘I will kiss you here, in Hyde Park and…and let you expose my ankle at the next ball.’

  ‘Really,’ he replied. Apparently, not at all convinced. ‘Even the kiss?’

  ‘I will not enjoy it, but I will do it.’

  ‘Well no, we can’t have you enjoying my kiss, can we?’

  ‘I meant the humiliation of the wager and the circumstances surrounding it. Not the kiss itself.’

  He shook his head. ‘I feel so much better now.’

  She ignored his sarcastic tone. ‘Now, shall we do it here or in the phaeton?’

  Oliver laughed because it was all so ridiculous. ‘Stop,’ he said, putting up his hand. ‘We are going to walk back to the horses, and then I am going to take you home.’

  ‘But the wager,’ she said, as he took hold of her arm and started dragging her back up to the path.

  He was not going to kiss her for money. No! He wanted to kiss her, more now than ever, but he would not do it for the entertainment of others. He’d already made up his mind that he would not be doing any more wagers from that damn list. He would find some other way to pay the bank back what his brother owed against the estate, even if it took the rest of his life to do so.

  ‘But our agreement demands that you collect on some of the wagers, Bellamy. At least collect what you are owed.’

  ‘And this will make you feel better about your idiotic arrangement? I don’t care about my side of the arrangement and neither should you. It was my choice.’

  ‘Bella
my,’ she said as they reached the horses.

  ‘Not a word,’ he replied. He paid the lad and helped her back into her seat. He took up his place beside her and turned back towards the entrance of the park. This fine day felt dark and dim to him now. He looked over at Lisbeth and saw she was biting her lip again. He hated to upset her but he had to stand his ground on this.

  ***

  A Warrington ball was always a crush. The fact that Ashton had ordered they attend made him feel even less like attending. He wondered what his friend intended to do. He would not let him interrogate Lisbeth. Tony would be more tactful than that. He had a way of knowing when people were lying. He was very observant. Perhaps he just wanted to test her, to see how honest she was. He would find her defensive but not dishonest, of that Oliver was sure.

  ‘Now, please, be nice to Ashton’s family. I think you will find them charming.’

  ‘It is your friend Ashton’s youngest sister who is having her coming out?’ Lisbeth asked as the carriage jostled while turning into Grosvenor Square where the Marquis of Warrington lived.

  ‘Yes, Miss Marianne. Only but a babe last time I saw her. But then I’ve only seen her twice when home briefly on leave. Delightfully wicked as a child but I put that down to having four older brothers.’

  Lisbeth Laughed. Four brothers! ‘Oh, the poor child.’ She would be the most over-protected young woman…and no doubt the most loved. She was a very lucky young lady. If only her own brother had lived long enough to have protected her. Would it have made any difference?

  ‘Exactly. Ashton thinks she is a complete hoyden, but what did he expect? He still thinks the sun shines from her, of course.’

  ‘I admit to being a little nervous about tonight.’ She looked over at him and he smiled that crooked smile at her, the one that crinkled his eyes and made her want to jump into his lap and kiss him.

  ‘Have no fear of Warrington or the rest of the family. They are no strangers to scandal or gossip for that matter. They will not treat you ill. Everyone is terrified of Warrington, you know.’

  ‘Really, why?’

  ‘He is kind of…scarily disapproving. Part of it is on account of his height. Part is the fact that he never smiles and is not approachable in the least. He does, however, always do his duty.’