“Death!”
He laughed. “Hmm. This conveyance may be bleeding me dry, but I am loath to bloody it for real.”
“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. “It seems we are at an impasse then. Although, I reluctantly confess you’ll be getting the better deal.”She wanted to play games? Well, he could play them too.
She looked perplexed for a moment. “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 asecond timeof shooting someone. As for my brandy…” He thought of the small notebook in his jacket pocket. The list of names. Men’s names. Influential men of theton,all. “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 theton.”
“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?” For the first time tonight he had the upper hand, and he was not going to give it back to her.
“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 other 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 readingLady Radcliff’sworks.”
He hauled her closer so there was no way she could ignore him. “How you found out about my financialdifficultieswhen 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 traveled 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 terrorize 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 realized his mouth was open and shut it. Part of him sympathized 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 yes, he 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!
