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 todo 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 likeGuy Fawkes Nightas he realized 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!His intuition had not abandoned him completely it seemed. 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.Iam 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 ofMad King Georgein 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 renowned 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, youmustknow this. I will not hesitate to use the information I have on you, should you betray me.”
He smiled. A charming 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 analyze 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? “Thenyouhad better eat your peas, Lord Bellamy.”
Chapter Six
The Countess ofBlackhurst 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 this all 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 rummaging around in her small bag, her eyes never leaving his.
