A Scandalous Wager Page 7

  ‘It would perhaps loosen you up enough to act in a more rational manner and once and for all tell me the truth about your little plan for revenge against the ton.’

  Her heartbeat faltered in her chest. She schooled her features as best she could. ‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ she said, waving her hand in a dismissive gesture.

  ‘What were you planning? Blackmail? Or were you just going to play with their minds?’

  ‘You’re delusional,’ she scoffed. ‘The pistol will remain in my possession as will the brandy, thank you.’ She put her hand out again. ‘To be drunk will only make you look like a fool.’

  He lifted the flask again.

  ‘Let me warn you now, Bellamy, just so we know where we both stand, if you think to betray me, in any way, at any time, I will make sure everyone knows of your financial…position.’

  His smile fell from his face so rapidly Lisbeth clutched the seat for safety. Her hand went quickly to the shape of her pistol in her reticule and firmed around it.

  What did she truly think he would do, laugh? Well, yes, she thought he might, but of course, he didn’t. The fact she knew of his financial difficulties had certainly hit a raw nerve. A raw nerve indeed.

  ‘Ah, it is to be blackmail then. Are you really trying to threaten me, Countess? If you are, you had better do better than that.’ His voice was fierce and dark and his features matched, making her regret having played such a dangerous card.

  She lifted her chin high. ‘Of course not. Unless…you leave me no choice.’

  He sat back then and studied her for a moment. ‘What do you want from me, Lady Blackhurst?’

  ‘I told you last night.’

  ‘Last night I was drunk, madam. You took advantage of my inebriation then, but now I am in full control of my mind and I want there to be no confusion between us as to what we expect of each other.’ He took hold of her elbow to guarantee her attention and she gasped. ‘You need me,’ he went on. ‘Otherwise you would have simply hired some fool to go digging in Wainwright’s study and stayed at home in your library reading Lady Radcliff’s works.’

  He hauled her closer so there was no way she could ignore him. ‘How you found out about my financial difficulties when even my closest friends have no idea also intrigues me.’

  Lisbeth bit down on her lip to stop from crying out. He was angry. It was to be expected, she had provoked him, after all.

  She waited for it but no fist connected nor was she slammed against the side of the carriage. No hand clamped around her throat, or slapped her so hard her neck would feel like it had snapped off its moorings. What was he waiting for?

  She felt a scream building but knew it would do her no good. No good at all. It was her fault, all her fault! She had brought herself to this end. She waited, her eyes shut tight, for her punishment for surely it was coming. She kept her eyes closed and despite her resolve to stay silent through what was to come, a whimper escaped.

  Oliver watched the play of emotions which travelled across her face. Terror was the last thing he thought he would see, not from her. She looked like she was waiting for him to strike her. What kind of man did she think he was? He would never hit a woman. He had wanted to make it clear he would not be manipulated, not terrorise her.

  He released her.

  Was this all some kind of act? Surely, she was not so talented? He could feel her fear vibrating all around him. He knew fear like this, had lived it. No one should have to feel like this, let alone a woman.

  ‘Countess,’ he said his tone soft now. ‘There is no need for all these dramatics. Just tell me.’

  ‘How can I tell you?’ she bit out, opening her eyes and pinning him with a painful glare. ‘You, who would sell me up the river as soon as the price was right. You, who have no idea of what it is to suffer a false accusation, to live with a guilt which is not yours, day after day! You, who have not been given a name which breeds fear and loathing everywhere you go! A name which makes little children fear you will peck out their eyes if they do not eat their peas!’

  Her voice was near hysterical and Oliver sat, stunned. How was he to react to that? He realised his mouth was open and shut it. Part of him sympathised with her plight and had she been any other woman he may have offered her some kind of comfort. While the other part was a little upset she had such a low opinion of him. But how could she have otherwise? Last night had been a disgraceful display of stupidity. Yes, he needed money and had agreed to the damn wager, and yes, he was supposed to be reporting on her to Ashton, but he was not as amoral as she seemed to think. Sell her up the river, indeed!

  She was right though, he had no idea what it was like to be accused of a crime he didn’t commit. What was he supposed to do now? If he were her and was innocent of such a crime he would stop at nothing to prove his innocence.

  Fireworks went off in his brain like Guy Fawkes Night as he realised at last what was going on here. She was trying to find out who killed her husband. Hence the disappearing act, the snooping around in Wainwright’s study, the notebook, and even the pistol. He fell back against the swabs and stifled a groan.

  Dawn was so very bright after such a dark night.

  He lifted her chin and spoke softly and directly to her. Those eyes of hers were huge with uncertainty. ‘Despite what you think of me, you chose me for a reason. If you are truly innocent then I will help you find out who killed your husband.’

  She gaped at him. Her disbelief etched in her every feature confirmed he had guessed right.

  Well, damn me! It seemed his intuition had not abandoned him completely after all. This changed the game considerably.

  ‘Shall we start over?’ he offered. ‘This time we will be honest with each other, agreed?’

  Lisbeth stared at him, she couldn’t believe it. Doom fell on her like a lead blanket. It was too late to deny it. The shock was written all over her face. If he had figured her out so quickly, would others also guess so easily? She closed her mouth and looked at his large hand that he had offered her. He had strong-looking fingers. Fingers with character—if such a thing could be said of fingers. Little nicks and scars decorated them and she wondered briefly how he had come across so many. Lisbeth looked up from his hands.

  She had little choice in the matter now. She had to trust him. She just hoped she was doing the right thing. Tentatively, she put her hand in his. He brought it to his lips and brushed them over her knuckles. Warmth spread up her arm and rested on her cheeks. Her eyes swelled and she blinked furiously. She would not weaken, not now, not in front of him.

  ‘I am afraid I cannot accept your kind offer, Bellamy.’

  ‘I don’t know how you will be able to stop me.’

  ‘This is none of your concern. I am none of your concern. I appreciate your offer, I do, but I will not allow you to be put in danger on my account.’

  ‘Glad to hear it, Countess, but I am afraid my mind is made up. I am stubborn like that, you know.’

  ‘Foolhardy, more like.’

  He shrugged his shoulders. ‘Perhaps, but understand this, I can no more let you snoop around strange men’s…rooms than I could let my poor Aunt Petunia go off to far exotic India with nothing but a miniature of Mad King George in her pocket.’

  ‘How chivalrous of you, Bellamy. I’m impressed, really, but I’m not your Aunt Petunia. If you are going to help me you will have to remain out of the way. You are to be my escort not my protector. I made it quite clear last night and do so again now.’

  ‘Hmm yes, as renown as I am for my gallant nature—and perhaps because I am particularly attached to my head and it to my shoulders, I cannot let you conduct some misguided attempt at an investigation without me to protect your far prettier neck.’

  ‘I will not let you walk all over me, Bellamy. This is too important to me. I will defend myself with whatever information I have at my disposal, you must know this. I will not hesitate to use the information I have on you, should you betray me.’

  He smiled. A char
ming half smile. She hated when he did that. Hated what it did to her. How it made her heart skip a beat. She didn’t have time right now to analyse what those tingling sensations meant only that it happened every time he smiled at her.

  He inclined his head in acceptance. Although, she knew he would not play by her rules.

  ‘I wouldn’t expect any less from the Black Raven,’ he said.

  Lisbeth raised a brow. Perhaps he did understand, a little. Was it enough, though? ‘Then you had better eat your peas, Lord Bellamy.’

  Chapter 6

  The Countess of Blackhurst was the kind of woman who made a sane man run as fast as his legs, or better yet a horse, could take him. And yet, here he was. He already knew he naturally gravitated towards dangerous situations and now, apparently, to dangerous women. This was not something he would brag about at his club.

  The Countess was to be his new mission, but he would wager he would be far safer on a battlefield than in her company. Oliver’s main worry was how to keep her hands out of places they shouldn’t be. He had no wish to see her swinging from a gibbet or walking a gangplank in irons bound for New South Wales.

  Oliver glanced over at the Black Raven. What was he to do with her? How was he to handle a potential powder keg of doubtful substance? The last thing he could afford was for all this to blow up in his face.

  He crossed his arms over his chest. ‘So, what are you looking for, a bloody trail? A confession written in Ancient Greek? The murder weapon?’

  She gave him an impatient sigh. ‘Must you be so tiresome? I suspect the weapon has been sold ten times over by now or is at least at the bottom of the Thames. I am at this time only trying to confirm association. If I can prove my husband had business dealings with certain people I will put them on a short list of suspects.’

  ‘Ah, so the list in your notebook is for suspicious persons?’

  The disbelieving look she gave him was enchanting. She began frantically rumbling around in her small bag, her eyes never leaving his.

  He sat back, happy. ‘Yes, I have it.’ He answered the unspoken question in her eyes. The kiss to get it had been worth it in so many ways. He pulled it out of his pocket and handed it back to her. ‘You have lovely penmanship, by the way.’

  She snatched it back and held it to her chest. ‘How did you steal it from me?’

  ‘Steal? That is rather harsh. I simply borrowed it.’

  ‘You took it without my permission, therefore it is stealing.’

  ‘I had every intention of giving it back, therefore I borrowed it.’

  ‘But how?’

  ‘I have very skilful fingers,’ he confessed with a smile. ‘I have many other skills as well, which you may find…beneficial.’

  She rewarded him with a most terrifying scowl.

  ‘To the investigation, of course,’ he added.

  He loved that his having swiped the notebook from right under her nose shocked her. He loved that she was shoving the notebook back in her little bag with such force that he could imagine she was picturing the notebook as his head.

  ‘Do not take my notebook from my reticule again.’

  He grinned. ‘You have my word.’

  She did not smile back. ‘Why am I still not convinced?’

  ‘Ouch! Impugning my honour? That’s low.’

  ‘Can we concentrate on the matter at hand, please?’

  ‘Fine. I would think Blackhurst was closed-lipped on the fact he was in trade,’ Oliver said matter-of-factly.

  Her head shot up. ‘He was not in trade,’ she insisted. ‘He only invested with those who were and according to my sources he sometimes invited others to participate. It is not like he would be the first gentleman to do so.’

  ‘How charitable of him to want to share the wealth,’ he said in a sarcastic tone, thinking of his brother. ‘Nevertheless, these others would not have been eager to make their participation general knowledge.’

  She nodded. ‘You understand the difficulties I am up against. I have to be careful what I do and how I gain my information. Someone here in London seems to be willing to jeopardise their own reputation to ruin mine, continuously. I have no idea where the gossip and rumours come from. I would have thought this whole business extremely dull scandal by now.’

  ‘Murder and money are two things that never become dull, I assure you, Countess.’

  ‘So it seems,’ she replied.

  For a moment she looked tired, fatigued beyond what sleep could rectify. She had been battling her demons for years, he suspected, but she was determined not to show it.

  ‘Are you sure Blackhurst was not in debt? Perhaps he owed at the tables or —’

  ‘My husband rarely played games of chance and when he did he was usually successful. He was clever with numbers and had a good memory. I suspect there were not many who wished to play against him. He always said they held little challenge for him, in any case. He liked to gamble with much bigger stakes. As for debts, I can think of no reason why he would be. I have more money than I could ever spend in this lifetime or the next.’

  ‘Well, how nice that must be for you,’ he bit out between his teeth. Did she truly have no idea what her husband’s investors lost? How his demise and the breakdown of the speculation had ruined lives, including his own? His indignant scowl was wasted, he saw, as she again began her ritual. A look at her pocket watch, her schedule, and then back to the watch before looking out the window of the carriage. He felt like flinging that damn watch out the window.

  ***

  Lisbeth peered at her schedule. This is all too much, she thought, I need to keep myself in control. She knew what was on her schedule, of course, but it was the reassuring feeling of knowing what was going to happen next which kept her pulling it out of her reticule. It also gave her reason to avoid looking at Bellamy and his all-too-knowing eyes. She knew he was frustrated with her, and he had shown great restraint so far. That did not mean she meant to push him further, but she didn’t want to share everything with him either. He already knew too much.

  Now Bellamy knew of her plan, everything had changed. Men were used to taking control but this was her fight, no matter what sort of crusade Bellamy thought he was on. He could think himself heroic all he liked but she had to maintain her course to truth and justice.

  ‘He never spoke of his business affairs,’ she said now. ‘And I was rarely introduced to his friends. However, I do have my sources of information, as you now know.’

  ‘Indeed,’ Bellamy said. ‘Planned out, eh? Why does this not surprise me? I do have another question for you. Do I continue to commit to wagers regarding the Black Raven? Or do you intend to pay me in some other form?’

  ‘You may continue to gather your wagers, sir. I am happy with our arrangement as it is. I gather you have a list of these wagers?’ She was not desperate to see what stupidity had been made up but she would like to be prepared for the worst.

  Bellamy smiled and sat back against the swabs, crossed his arms over his chest and tapped at the breast pocket of his jacket.

  ‘May I have it please?’ She put out her hand.

  ‘No. Are you not worried that some may find it peculiar if I am winning money off your reputation when you are my mistress?’

  Her hand fell back to her lap, her expression incredulous. ‘I am not your mistress! I am not your anything.’ She tapped her pocket watch open, frowned, and then snapped it closed again in agitation. Why did she let him do this to her? He did it on purpose. He was tricky, manipulative, annoying, and she wished that he would not keep trying to challenge her authority.

  ‘That can be easily amended, my dear. You need only give me the nod.’ Bellamy moved his arm across her shoulder but stopped when her pistol jabbed his ribs.

  She shook with nervous energy. Lisbeth had tried to forget about the pistol but he was moving too close and she panicked. She wanted to give him the nod, alright, with something hard. He made her mad enough to scream but she must remain cool, detached and i
n control. The Black Raven must keep playing her part.

  ‘I need only pull the trigger to put a nasty hole in your lovely jacket and your list.’

  ‘You, madam, are a very difficult woman,’ he complained.

  ‘Not difficult, Bellamy, just determined. You must keep your hands to yourself. I told you I will be leading this investigation, you are merely assisting. Is that understood?’

  Oliver nodded. ‘Absolutely, Countess.’

  What was wrong with him? He couldn’t stop looking into the deep, inky depths of her eyes. He did not want to be involved with this woman and yet…confusion warred with desire while sanity seemed to sit back and laugh.

  He wanted to take her in his arms and kiss all the stiffness out of her and he had no doubt where that stiffness would end up. He also knew this woman held him in low esteem, somewhere under the coal boy, probably lower.

  His mental meanderings needed to be reined in because while he was swimming about in her eyes and bemoaning his status she had slipped her hand into his jacket and retrieved his list.

  A whisper of a smile passed over the corners of her lips as she tucked the list in her bodice and lowered her pistol.

  ‘Cheeky minx.’ She was just getting him back for the notebook, he supposed. He looked at her bodice. Was he really feeling envious of a piece of paper? Oliver smiled to himself as he watched her looking entirely too pleased with herself. ‘You may think yourself the cleverest of thieves but it will do you little good.’

  ‘Don’t be a bad sport, Bellamy. Ah, we are here. Shall we go in or do you wish to sulk for a moment?’

  ‘Oh, no, let us go in. I am exceedingly excited by the prospect of gaining a headache.’

  ‘Do you not like music, Bellamy?’

  She asked the question with such an innocent expression and yet he knew she was cheered by the prospect of torturing him.

  ‘It isn’t that I dislike music or singing. What I dislike is music played badly and singing which leaves ones ears near to bleeding. I despise caterwauling amateurs who do little but posture about playing a badly tuned violin like a two-year-old.’