She did not like the way he was making her aware of every breath he took, of every move he made, and every annoying flashof his warm chocolate eyes. It was hard enough to breathe as it was. She told herself she was not the least bit jealous of his ability to converse with such an ease of manner she looked like a walking stick he just happened to be holding on to—She had better things to do than be any man’s accessory.
A half hour later and Bellamy was now happily bantering on about some horse at Ascot to an elderly gentleman and she looked around for an escape. She saw an opening in the crowd and excused herself.
She made as if to the withdrawing room but then made a quick right turn and found herself in the servant’s hall. Squaring her shoulders she took the first step.
*
“So, Bellamy, howdid we manage to get the devil’s daughter to leave her crypt?” Dalmere asked in a jovial tone.
Oliver turned to find his brother’s friend at his elbow. Dalmere had the look of an angel about him. His halo of golden curls had made him the subject of much female admiration. He was a thin man, with a sharp eye and a vicious wit when provoked. He had also been the first to offer his condolences after Oliver had returned from the Continent. He didn’t know how he would have survived the first few days in London without Dalmere.
“I would take offense to that if you had not described her so aptly.” Oliver took a sip of his drink, the stress like a boulder between his shoulder blades.
“Lord Fitzsimons and the others are going to be ill when they hand over their pounds to you on the morrow. I don’t think anyone quite believed you.”
“Considering the wagers put on in the last day, I would say a great many didn’t believe me.”
“Do you blame them? The woman has hardly left her house in years.”
“There is a first time for everything. This is your fault anyway. If not for you I would never have taken up that wager in the first place.”
“Don’t put the blame on me. I tried to talk you out of it.”
“That is not how I remember it.”
“I was surprised you remembered your own name that night.”
“You handed me the flask.”
“You didn’t have to drink it.”
Dalmere inspected Oliver with concern in his pale-green eyes.
Oliver raised both brows. “What are you doing?”
“Looking for bite marks and bruises,” Dalmere replied.
Oliver laughed. “Believe me there are wounds aplenty. Verbal ones. The woman has a tongue like a horse whip.”
“Ouch!”
“Indeed.”
Dalmere’s gaze turned serious. “Then what are you doing with her? You won the wager; surely you are under no obligation to adopt the chit.”
Good question. I’m selling my soul to a she-devil in return for money I make on wagers.It sounded ludicrous and desperate, even to him. As it was, Oliver wasn’t even sure about this arrangement with the Countess of Blackhurst himself, so how could he explain it?
Oliver looked at Dalmere. “Besides the obvious, you mean? Have you looked at her? Really looked at her?”
“I have eyes, Bellamy, same as you, so yes, besides the obvious.”
“I don’t really know, but she is an interesting woman. I am determined to figure her out,” Oliver explained.
Dalmere laughed. “Give up now then, my friend. The female species is a puzzle not even the brightest male minds have been able to comprehend.”
“Oh, I don’t think she will be so hard to understand, once I crack that shell of hers.”
“Is that bravado talking, or do you really believe your own balderdash?”
