Oliver winked at him, took a sip of his champagne, and glanced around, looking for Lisbeth. Beside him Dalmere huffed, but Oliver ignored him. The truth was he wasn’t sure at all, bravado or not, whether he would live long enough to make even a small dent in her shell the way things were going so far. First things first; he had to get her pistol and notebook.
Where the devil was she, anyway? Why he felt the need to keep her within arm’s reach was beyond him. She was as likely to try and break that arm as not. Still, he felt he should protect her from those who might like to make mischief, and there were plenty.
“Well, old boy, you had better think of some novel ways to say nothing because the hordes are about to descend.” Dalmere motioned towards a group of young men coming towards them. They were already smirking and jeering within their little group before they had reason to do so.
Oliver groaned. He knew he would have to deal with this kind of situation but had foolishly hoped to avoid it.
“I say, Bellamy, just the man we wanted to see,” said one fellow who was bleary-eyed and sweating profusely. “How are you and the Black Raven getting on? At this rate you’ll be leg-shackled and spending her inheritance by the end of the month.”
“Really? Why on earth would I want to do that, Bently?” Oliver said in reply.
“Why, for her fortune, of course. It’s why she did it, don’t you know, for the money?”
Oliver decided he didn’t like Bently.
“Leg-shackled to her? I’d rather think he doesn’t want to wind up dead, like the last one,” said Dalmere in mock horror.
“Dalmere, that accusation was never proven.”
“If it was proven, Bellamy, she would have swung from theTyburn Tree. Doesn’t mean she didn’t do it,” said Lord Chalmers.
“Mind you,” said a young man who Oliver had seen last night at his club, but whose name had escaped him. “I’d risk it for one night with her. I’ve never seen anything like those eyes before, makes me so hot I could fry eggs.”
The men all laughed, all except Bellamy. For some reason he didn’t find their banter at all funny.
“I have nothing to fear from the Countess of Blackhurst I assure you, gentlemen, though your concern is touching.”
The others all snorted, coughed, and laughed in their amusement. He, on the other hand, had had enough of amusing them. “Excuse me, gentlemen, but I believe I need to see if the Black Raven is sharpening her dagger correctly.”
Their laughter followed him through the crowded room.They are all simpletons, he thought to himself and then stopped. Yesterday, he would have been laughing along with them. This thought did not sit well at all considering his dislike for the woman. He looked around the ballroom again.Now, where is she?
*
“Well, isn’t thisis averypretty picture of averynaughty little countess?”
Lisbeth’s heart froze at the sound of Bellamy’s voice behind her. How had he found her? She turned slightly from her position on her hands and knees, where she had been searching for a key or a hidden panel to Wainwright’s desk. Didn’t they all have hidden panels? The quick glance over her shoulder confirmed his presence, and the arrogant look on his handsome face as he leaned against the doorframe with his arms crossed over his chest and one brow raised nearly to his hairline made her groan. She closed her eyes. This could not be happening to her. The man was a veritable homing pigeon.
“What are you doing here?” she asked.
“Looking for my mistress, actually,” he replied casually. He stepped farther into Wainwright’s study, looked around, and tested the top of the nearest table for dust, before turning his attention back to her.
“Well, she isn’t here, is she?” Lisbeth hotly retorted, sitting up and absently checking her hair. She tried to convey she wasn’t the least bit flustered by his having found her. By the look on his face she hadn’t succeeded. She would like to wipe the grin right off his face but there were no fire pokers on hand.
“Au contraire, my dear, she is right where she oughtnotto be.”
It took a few seconds for her to realize to whom he was referring. “What? Me? No!” She put her hands on her hips. “What have you been saying, Bellamy?”
“Ihaven’t had to say anything,” he said as he pushed away from the doorframe and walked into the room. “They all presume it. You’re a widow, I’m an unattached man, and I am bandying you around town on my arm. What did you imagine they would think? We are whist partners?”
Lisbeth hadn’t thought about it. She was astonished she even cared what those people downstairs thought of her or her arrangement with Bellamy. If anything it made things morebelievable, but it also made her feel distinctly at his mercy, a feeling that was definitely uncomfortable. Of course he hadn’t expected her to answer his last question. He was now hooking one hip on Wainwright’s desk and looking down at her.
“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?”
