A Scandalous Wager Read online

  ‘What exactly are you doing in here? Do you have a rendezvous with Wainwright?’ He frowned. ‘No, that would be inconceivable. If not, why are you sniffing about in his…drawers?’

  ‘I am not sniffing his dra…anything!’ she retorted. ‘And, why would it be inconceivable? If I did have a rendezvous with him or any other man, it would be none of your business.’ She turned away so he would not see her blush and pretended to be looking for something on the floor. This was humiliating. Of all the positions, he had to find her in this one. More ridiculous was she was still pretending to have some dignity left. She sat back on her heels, which was the most she could do with her skirts restricting her movements.

  ‘Oh, I see,’ he said, picking up a paperweight from Wainwright’s desk and examining it. ‘Who is it, then?’

  ‘Who is who, Bellamy?’

  ‘The man you are meeting.’

  ‘I’m not meeting anyone, you idiot!’

  ‘Have you hurt your ankle then?’ he asked in a casual tone, dismissing her nasty comment.

  ‘No, I have not hurt my ankle, though I hardly see what that has to do with anything.’

  ‘Then I can only assume you make a habit of getting about on your hands and knees. You know you really should have warned me, Countess. One could get the wrong idea when one is presented with such a view.’

  ‘Oh! For Heaven’s sake! I am simply stuck by my skirt.’

  He smiled, stood, and held out his hand. ‘Then let me lend you assistance, I would hate to have you tear such a lovely gown.’

  She shook off his hand. ‘You really are intolerable, do you know that?’

  He looked at his hand to see what had been so distasteful to her then let it fall back onto his thigh. His very impressive thigh. Thighs. Right at her eye level.

  He looked down at her. ‘I thought you found me irresistibly charming?’

  She lifted her gaze back up to his face, glad to be focusing on something other than his thighs. ‘Not in the least.’

  ‘Then I will simply have to try harder,’ he said with a chuckle as he hauled her up by the shoulders and against his massive chest which Lisbeth imagined would be like slamming into a warm, and not bad-smelling, cliff face.

  Damn the man. She immediately tried to put space between them by turning her back on him and crossing her arms over her chest. ‘Go away, Bellamy.’

  He ignored her as usual.

  ‘Do you realise you have the most beautiful neck? These little curls back here are very fetching, indeed. They are like little gates guarding the treasure beneath.’

  ‘Oh, please!’ Lisbeth rolled her eyes but his whispered words and hot breath had sent sparks down her spine. Confused, she went to turn towards him to give him a good push in the chest, so she could storm out but the warm cliff was in her way.

  ‘Shh!’ he said, stopping her. ‘Why don’t you try being quiet for a change?’ He turned her back around towards the desk and for some unfathomable reason she let him.

  He leaned in close behind her and spoke into her ear again. ‘You put both of us in a devilish position when you scamper off to play treasure hunt.’ His voice was deep and seemed to vibrate through her whole body in quite an unexpectedly pleasant way. ‘Especially in the middle of a ball containing over a hundred people. All of whom are waiting for you to do something…Raven-ish. Disappearing was not wise.’

  She closed her eyes for a moment as sensation tingled from her toes right to the top of her head. She wanted to tell him to go to the devil, to leave her be, that she had changed her mind and would find some other way to find her husband’s killer. Although she knew there was no other way. All her nerves were singing, trying to tell her danger was near but her traitorous legs were frozen to the spot as his fingers caressed her bare neck and shoulders and her voice caught in her throat.

  ‘Perhaps we should return then,’ she finally choked out, her voice just above a whisper.

  ‘Perhaps you should just tell me what it is you are looking for?’

  Lisbeth, still facing away from him, placed her hands on the large mahogany desk as her legs wobbled. She could not tell him. He wasn’t a man who could be trusted, yet she would have to tell him something.

  ‘I thought I had lost my ear bob.’ Willing her legs not to desert her, she focused on the ghastly deer head mounted on the wall.

  ‘On the floor, in Wainwright’s study?’

  She looked sharply over her shoulder at him. ‘No, Bellamy, in the Tower of London. Of course, here, you lack-wit.’

  He smiled as he tugged on one of her curls. She was seriously starting to think he actually liked her to call him names. She looked helplessly at her reticule on the far end of the large desk.

  ‘Alright, Countess, why were you in here in the first place?’ He was tracing the edge of the back of her gown where it dipped low.

  She shivered again and hoped to God he did not notice. ‘I was looking for the withdrawing room and I got…lost. I was about to return when I realised my earring was gone.’

  ‘How unfortunate. Let me help you find it. My eyesight is exceptional.’

  Tiny sparks of awareness erupted all over her body. She panicked, felt hemmed in by the desk, her lie, and his body. ‘No, it really doesn’t matter. Let’s return to the ball.’

  ‘Countess.’ His voice was even but charged with anger now. ‘I can plainly see you are in possession of both your ears and their accessories.’ Just for good measure he flicked both of her earrings with his fingers. He turned her now so they were facing one another, their lips mere inches apart, his eyes intense and searching. ‘I do not like being lied to and yet I get the distinct impression you have not told me a single truth since I met you.’

  She went to speak but he put his finger to her lips. She froze, not sure what he would do next or why her lips were tingling. Would he hit her or kiss her? She closed her eyes, waiting, expecting. All she could hear was the beating of her heart and the rushing of her blood in her ears, but nothing happened. She slowly opened her eyes to find him frowning.

  ‘We will discuss it in the carriage and it had better be good…and the truth.’

  She wanted to tell him hell would freeze over before she would give in to his demands. She looked up at him, her best scowl between her brows. His frown was far more effective. His eyes were more like dark bitter chocolate now and she knew then and there with a sinking heart she would have to tell him the truth or at least some of it. Another lie would simply not do. Unless…it was a really, really good one! She nodded her acquiescence and he studied her features.

  ‘Good. There is just one thing I must do before we leave —’

  His lips descended so quickly on hers there was no time for her to react rationally.

  He did not crush her in his arms but held her softly with one arm while the backs of his fingers on the other hand skimmed her cheek. She just stood there letting him kiss her. What was wrong with her?

  His lips danced lightly over hers, causing all sorts of chaos to invade her body. Shock was the least of her worries. She had not been kissed in such a long time and certainly not like this. She had forgotten how potent a kiss could be, how the simple act of pressing lips together could result in such a dangerous force of feeling. Her heart lurched and plunged inside her chest, causing her blood to thrum so violently through her veins it was almost painful.

  Oh, how she wanted to kiss him back and that was the real shock. After her husband, she had thought she could happily live without the touch of a man for the rest of her life. Her body did not completely agree, it seemed.

  She fisted her hands in her skirts, trying desperately to cling to something stable, something real. She failed and her legs sagged, but wedged between Wainwright’s desk and Bellamy’s chest meant she remained standing despite the desertion of her lower limbs.

  Unexpectedly, his kiss became more ardent, persistent, as his hands brought her forward and fully against him before caressing her back, his large palms heating her
flesh in their wake. She had to resist him but it was getting harder by the second.

  She tried to remember how annoying he was, how arrogant he was, but it didn’t help at all. Now all she could think about was how male he was, how hard and strong his body was against hers and how much she…liked it.

  She was surprised her body was responding at all. It had always closed off whenever her husband had forced his way into her bed. Numbing herself was the only way she had known how to endure. Numb was not how she was feeling now. Every nerve ending was fully functioning and shooting pleasure in all directions.

  It wasn’t fair. She could picture clearly how his face became boyish when he smiled. Her hands unclenched, itched. Her fingers stretched and fisted spasmodically in her skirt as she fought to keep control of her traitorous body. She could not let him know how he was affecting her. She could not lose control; it would destroy her and her plans for any kind of future.

  Finally he lifted his head and gave her a devastating grin. It was obvious he was immensely pleased with himself and his handy work.

  Lisbeth touched her lips which were now throbbing and longing to be kissed again. She gathered her anger and pushed him in the chest. ‘Damn you, Bellamy! How dare you…kiss me!’

  His smile never altered. ‘’Twas a chore but, I had little choice, it had to be done.’

  ‘Was it another one of your wagers, Bellamy?’ She pushed him aside, fighting for some air.

  ‘What use would it have been with no witnesses?’ He examined the fingernails of his hand while replying with, ‘The thing is, if we returned downstairs looking like we had spent our time looking for fictitious ear bobs there would be hell to pay and questions asked, I assure you. This way, with you looking like you have been thoroughly kissed, everyone will understand precisely what they think we have been doing. Do you see?’

  No, she did not see! She was so angry she could see nothing but a haze of red before her. ‘Don’t. Ever. Do. That. Again,’ she warned, poking him in the chest with her forefinger with every word. She grabbed her reticule and stormed from the room.

  Bellamy laughed and brought his other hand from behind his back. He looked at her notebook in his palm. Just a little longer and he would have had her pistol too. He wasn’t too worried; he’d have it before the night was through. He flipped open the notebook and read the names on the list.

  Chapter 5

  ‘I think you had better tell me everything,’ Oliver said. He had just consumed three long eye-watering swallows of brandy from a flask he had hidden under the seat of his carriage. He took another swallow and looked at the woman who sat so stiffly in the seat opposite him.

  He was still reeling from the kiss and her reaction to him. He had expected her to slap him silly, shoot him, skewer him with one of her hairpins, or all three. The fact she’d just stood there and let him kiss her was surprising, but then he found she did nothing he anticipated.

  Her expression when he had lifted his head from their kiss had shocked him. For the sheerest of moments something in her eyes had given him pause. Had he upset her? Certainly. He hadn’t been lying when he said they needed a reason to be away from the ballroom for so long, but the look she had given him had been something else entirely. Her lovely, bejewelled eyes had held what he thought to be bewildered wonderment and damn if he hadn’t imagined a touch of desire there too. Unfortunately, it had been so fleeting he could not be sure. Looking at her now he must have been mistaken. She looked as calm and cool as she always did.

  He raised a brow. ‘Well, Countess?’

  Folding her hands in her lap, she pinned him with those burning sapphire eyes. ‘What would you like to know?’

  ‘How about the truth?’

  ‘Ah, the truth. About what?’

  ‘Come, let us not keep playing these games. What were you doing in Wainwright’s private chambers?’

  ‘Looking for something, obviously.’ Lady Blackhurst smoothed her skirts and then clasped her hands lightly on her reticule and returned his assessing look.

  Oliver smiled. ‘Obviously,’ he drawled. ‘What was it you were looking for, exactly?’ He sat slightly forward so he had a better view of her face in the dim light of the carriage.

  This would be a lot easier if she were not so beguiling. The seriousness of her features, which he found charming but at the same time irritating, made him want to laugh at the perverse nature of his very thoughts as they were surprisingly gentleman-like. He most certainly did not want to get involved with this fallen angel even as his lips were desperate to find hers again.

  He couldn’t trust her that much was clear, but for some insane reason he wanted her to trust him. There was definitely something going on in her pretty little head and he was determined to get some answers.

  Sighing dramatically, she said, ‘Oh, Bellamy, can a lady have no secrets?’

  He laughed and shook his head. ‘Lady Blackhurst, you cannot expect me to play the doting beau while you disappear to rifle through our hosts —’

  ‘Things?’

  ‘Exactly! Now, if you please, what are your purposes for wanting to return to the ton in such a fashion?’

  Lisbeth pondered her answer. There was little to excuse her rifling, as he had put it, but she could hardly tell him she was on the hunt for her husband’s killer. He was, after all, a man who would probably do just about anything for money. A man like Bellamy could not be trusted with a cup of tea let alone her whole plan for finding out what had truly happened to Nathaniel that fateful morning.

  ‘The truth, Bellamy, is it has been three years since my husband’s death and well, it was time I rejoined life. I have been a virtual prisoner in my home for nearly the whole time. I do not really have any friends or…or…family who are willing to receive me and…’

  She had not meant to choke up and she swallowed hard to contain the lump in her throat before it formed into tears. She had not realised that to place her cards—even if only a few strategic ones—on the table would be quite so hard.

  Lisbeth could feel his eyes upon her. What did he think he would see? There was so little left of her if he looked too hard he may see right through her altogether. Like a ghost shimmering but of no substance. If only she could turn to smoke and disappear.

  His body was suddenly next to hers. She shuffled back in her seat in shock and gasped as he took her hand. She snatched it back and stared hard at him, warning him to keep his distance.

  She couldn’t bear it. ‘No! Don’t you dare pity me,’ she said with a resolve which took more out of her than he would ever know. ‘I may be a friendless wretch but I am determined, you see, to hold my head up high no matter what they say, or how often they whisper behind their fans. I will no longer have them decide on my guilt or innocence based purely on gossip.’

  ‘But have they not already condemned you…despite a trial which found you not guilty?’ He was searching her face and she wished he would see the bleak emptiness within and leave her be.

  A silence fell over them, whereupon Lisbeth tried to keep her tears at bay and Bellamy seemed determined to see them. It made her feel sick. She wanted nothing more than to go home, curl up in a ball of misery, and forget everything and everyone. She’d done it once before. It hadn’t helped her then and she doubted it would help now, but it was tempting. So tempting.

  Keep it together, Lisbeth, she said to herself.

  ‘The ton can be cruel,’ he said, looking at her hands as they lay on her lap. ‘However, it doesn’t explain Wainwright’s study,’ he went on.

  She took her chance. ‘Oh, I quite agree.’

  He looked up and frowned. Suspicious. ‘You agree?’

  ‘Oh yes, Wainwright’s study is terribly stuffy. What could he have been thinking? There are simply not enough windows and his desk is awkwardly situated.’

  ‘Countess.’ Oliver raked his fingers through his hair.

  ‘Yes, I know. Some people just have no understanding on the proper placement of furniture and th
e importance of light in proportion to…what are you doing? Give me that!’

  Lisbeth tried to snatch the flask away from his lips but he was too quick for her. He was not going to give it up easily.

  ‘I need fortification and lots of it if I am to get through this night.’

  She pursed her lips and placed her hands on her hips hoping he would see that she was as determined as he on this issue. ‘I won’t have it, Bellamy.’

  Bellamy chuckled. ‘Of course you won’t, because I’m having it.’

  ‘Give it to me.’ She held out her hand like she would with an errant child caught with a sweet stolen from the kitchen.

  ‘I’d be happy to, Countess.’ The infuriating man put his hand out in a similar gesture. ‘In exchange for the pistol.’

  She snatched her hand back. ‘No!’

  ‘What will make you hand it over?’

  ‘Death!’

  He laughed again. ‘Hmm. This conveyance may be bleeding me dry, but I am loathe to bloody it for real.’

  She fixed her features. ‘Then you shall have to learn to live without it.’

  ‘The carriage? Oh, good, because frankly —’

  She rolled her eyes and replied, ‘The pistol, you dolt.’

  He sighed dramatically crossing his arms over his chest. She watched him trying to anticipate what he might do next.

  ‘It seems we are at an impasse then. Although, I reluctantly confess you’ll be getting the better deal.’

  She was perplexed for a moment. What was he playing at? ‘Oh? How so?’

  ‘If you give me the pistol and I give you the brandy, then both of us would be spared the embarrassment of you being accused a second time of shooting someone. As for my brandy…’

  Lisbeth gasped. She had forgotten, just for a moment, he had no reason to believe her innocent. She must keep that at the forefront of her mind always. The notebook in her reticule and the list of names within it was what she needed to concentrate on. One of which could be her husband’s killer. She could not take the risk that Bellamy might do something stupid, especially if he drank too much.