‘Why would you say such a thing on a dance floor in front of hundreds of people?’
‘Because,’ he said in a whisper. ‘I want you to know exactly how I feel when you are in my arms, when I look into your eyes, when I smell your perfume.’ He held her secure in his embrace, leading her in the steps that were so new to the world of the ton.
‘You should not say such things. It is unfair.’
‘Unfair? To whom? Me and my distracting desire for you or you and your female sensibilities?’
‘I refuse to answer that question,’ she replied, pinning him with one of her glares.
He laughed. ‘That only makes me want you more.’
They said nothing for a few seconds until Lisbeth tried to get back onto a safer subject. ‘Where did you learn to dance the waltz?’
‘In Germany. Did I ever tell you that story about the —’
‘Bellamy,’ she whispered, clutching his shoulder in alarm. The room began to swim around her making her feel dizzy, out of control.
‘Focus on me,’ he said. ‘Do you feel dizzy? It happens sometimes when you are not used to all the turning.’
‘Focusing on you makes it worse,’ she replied trying not to panic. He slowed down so the outside world did not spin so fast.
‘Better?’ he asked.
‘Yes,’ she answered dutifully but in truth it was more than just the dance that had made her feel faint. It was the overpowering realisation that she might just love him. Did he love her? How could he? If he did, he shouldn’t. She desired this man, wanted to consume him, savour him like one would the last lemon drop in the box. Oh, how she wanted to kiss him, right here, right now. It was then that she realised how little time they had left with each other. The season ended soon and he would be free to go—and she would let him. She would have to watch him go, taking with him her heart, but she had known that from the start—that he would leave her.
‘Right, that’s it,’ he said, as he suddenly stopped dancing, took her by the hand, and led her off the dance floor. He walked slowly, smiling and nodding to the people they passed but he did not stop and she was too tense to take notice of where he was leading her. He halted for a moment then pushed her gently into a hall. He took her hand again and dragged her along at a quicker pace.
‘Where are we going?’ she managed to gasp out.
He did not answer. Instead he looked from side to side, and then chose a door on the right. He dragged her through and closed the door behind them before hauling her up against the wall and kissing her ardently. Relieved beyond words, she kissed him back, winding her arms around his neck and wrapping her legs around his waist as he lifted her.
Nothing else mattered in this moment. His lips on hers and his arms protective and strong around her made her feel safe and wanted. He rocked between her thighs, his hands now under her skirt skimming up her legs to cradle her bottom. She didn’t even notice the hard wall at her back. The only sensation she felt was an irresistible need for this man. This combined with her overwhelming want to weep at the injustice of having fallen in love with a man she could not have forever. She would take everything he had to give her because she knew in the darkest parts of her soul that this may be her only chance.
He wanted her and she wanted him and it didn’t make sense, but it did. Everything about him was right and yet they both knew it wouldn’t, couldn’t last. Perhaps it was this that made their coupling so intense, so reckless and so fragile. She cupped his face and kissed him with all her desperate heart.
‘Lisbeth, don’t cry,’ he said, softly reaching up to wipe at tears she had not even noticed. ‘Everything will work out. Ashton said that they all adore you. Why are you crying?’
She didn’t respond, couldn’t, so she just kissed him and kissed him until he too forgot everything but her. He made love to her against the wall, a completely indecent act that would have horrified her under other circumstances but with Oliver she didn’t care.
She loved him.
***
The thrill of their lovemaking still echoed through every nerve in her body and put a smile on her face. Warrington’s garden was beautiful but Lisbeth only had eyes for the man who was leading her up the garden path. Literally. She laughed at the thought.
‘I’m not going to even attempt to ask you what you are thinking,’ Oliver said as he returned her smile.
‘Perhaps I am just happy,’ she replied.
‘Perhaps?’ he lifted a brow.
‘Fine. I am happy.’
He laughed and kissed her softly on the tip of her nose. ‘Perhaps I should have my way with you in dark rooms more often.’
As she walked slowly down the meandering path she hugged Oliver’s arm a little tighter and laid her head on his shoulder. A strong, dependable shoulder. A shoulder she wanted to trust. It had been so long since she had felt this way. The feeling was liberating.
‘Gabrielle and Anna are lovely,’ Lisbeth said as they headed towards a bench in the middle of the garden. She hoped he would kiss her on that bench.
Oliver nodded. ‘They are indeed, and what do you think of Ashton?’
She contemplated her answer for a moment. ‘He is suspicious of me. He hides it well but I see it. He wants to find fault with me. I can’t blame him. He is only looking out for you.’
‘He is a good friend but perhaps he wants to decide for himself about you. Form his own opinion instead of what the ton has decreed.’
She looked at him, but he was looking towards the house. ‘Is that what you told him to do?’ she asked.
He turned towards her then and frowned at her wary expression. ‘No, but as you have so quickly surmised, he is naturally curious.’
‘From his time in the army with you?’
‘A man can hone many useful skills when he needs to. It is how one stays alive.’
‘So, you trust him?’
He looked her square in the eye and said, ‘With my life.’
She was startled by his answer and relieved at the same time. ‘Well, that is praise enough for me. However, I think he will not take me on as a friend until I have somehow proven myself.’ Like she’d had to do constantly with everyone she had met lately, including Oliver.
‘You prove yourself every day,’ Oliver said, taking her hand in his and pressing a small kiss to her palm. ‘It is only a matter of time before he adores you too.’
Adores me too? ‘To you maybe, not to the masses that still believe me guilty of heinous crimes of murder and mayhem. I have to find Nathaniel’s killer, it is the only way they will ever believe me. We have ruled out many from my list but there has to be someone who might know something.’
‘What if the killer is not even one of the ton? Maybe it was a hired thug?’
Lisbeth sighed. It seemed so easy for him to dismiss her concerns. It was not his life that had been ruined by a wrongful accusation. ‘Nathaniel let him in. He would not have done that unless he knew him or had invited him there in the first place. I don’t have time to speculate on other theories, believe me I’ve thought this through quite thoroughly. The season ends in a week or so and the ton will start leaving for the country. We must concentrate on the clues we have. The list grows smaller but not small enough. We need something solid.’
‘I could enlist Tony’s help. He is prodigiously clever at searching out the truth.’
Lisbeth gasped. ‘He knows? What have you told him, Bellamy?’ Her voice was soft in the garden but it was laced with anger.
‘I haven’t told him…much,’ Oliver confessed looking only a little contrite.
She gasped. ‘Oliver! You know how I feel about this. How could you?’ She wanted to throttle him.
‘I just bandied some names around and asked him what he thought, that’s all.’
‘And what, pray tell, did he say?’ She was finding it hard to contain her anger.
‘Not a lot. He said he may have some information for us, but he wants to verify it first. He would never tell me s
omething he was not sure of.’
‘I wish you had kept him out of my business, Bellamy!’ She stood up and took a step away from him. ‘He is not a fool, he will surely figure out what we are up to in no time. It is little wonder he was looking at me strangely, like he was trying to read my mind.’
‘No, that would be his normal look,’ Oliver replied with a smile.
She did not smile back.
He walked over to her and turned her towards him. ‘I did what I thought needed to be done. We were not finding what we needed going on as we are and as you said we are running out of time. He’s a professional, Lisbeth. He would never betray me.’
‘Maybe not you, but what about me? He has no reason to help me.’
‘He is helping you because I asked him to. He knows you mean a lot to me. He understands I want to get to the truth of the matter. So do you, so I see no reason not to use all resources at our disposal. I did it for you.’ He touched her face, skimming his finger down her cheek and lifting her chin so he could kiss her lips. ‘Don’t be angry with me, my love.’
All anger drained away as her heart sped up and her body moved closer to him, needing his touch, his kiss, his love.
‘You make it nearly impossible not to when you go ahead and do things like this,’ Lisbeth said, looking into his warm brown eyes. ‘Maybe we should return to the house now. People will wonder where we have gone.’ And what we have been doing.
Oliver offered his arm. ‘As you wish, my dear.’
My love, he had said, but was it just a turn of phrase?
***
In the shadows the man watched the pair leave the quiet haven of the garden. He gritted his teeth together until his jaw hurt. His eyes burned with anger and frustration. He was right to think they were up to something more than just dallying in disused rooms at the balls and soirees they had attended this season. Although, he had doubted himself for a brief moment earlier tonight, when he had seen them go into the room off the hall, when he had heard them together. He had followed them only because he was inquisitive.
He moved out of the shadows and from the fragrant bush he had been hiding behind. He had been close enough to clearly hear their exchange. They’d been so focused on each other he could have stood right behind them and they would not have noticed.
Now he knew the pair was up to mischief. They were trying to find out who killed Blackhurst. He would have laughed under normal circumstances but now they were involving Ashton. This was not good news. How could he use Ashton to his own ends if Bellamy was now enlisting Ashton’s aid? Bellamy had been useless in finding anything concerning the Black Raven’s involvement in the speculation, but then her pretty blue eyes had easily distracted him from his job.
The Blackhurst bitch was just as deceitful as he had thought her, just as deceitful as her dead husband had been. She was playing Bellamy for the fool and now she was going to try it on Ashton like she had everyone else.
It had been up to him to put her in her place after he had disposed of Blackhurst, to make sure her life was a misery. He should have got rid of her when he had killed Blackhurst, but the dignity of a quick death was too good for the likes of her. She was supposed to have hung, humiliated and shamed, for killing her husband, but she had not. She should have rotted in Newgate prison, got the pox, and died with her legs spread for some guard, but she hadn’t. Somehow, someway she had gotten off on a technicality and he’d had to work incredibly hard to keep her reputation suitably tainted.
Oh, the rumours he had spread, the tales he had told, the lies he had made up. As fun as it had been to play Machiavelli, none of his defaming had been sufficient to get rid of her. The stupid woman didn’t even have the sense to move to the continent until the hubbub died down. He’d been as surprised as anyone that the landlord had sold her the townhouse after her acquittal. But then again, who wanted to rent a house where someone had been killed? There were some advantages to having inherited nearly all the blunt Blackhurst had squirreled away, he supposed. Dirty, devilish money earned through deceit and lies by her bastard husband.
He knew she would want to seek out the truth, eventually. On her own she was no threat, but now with Bellamy at her side he had begun to worry. If Ashton joined their merry band of mischief there was a real chance he could be found out. He would not let it happen. He had just started to get over his own financial hardships and it had not been without great sacrifice on his side. He had vowed his revenge on Blackhurst’s bride when she had refused to return the capital from the speculation.
He ripped a flower off at the bloom and crushed the soft fragrant petals in his fist. She must die. It was the only way. He smiled then in the dim garden. Yes, killing the Black Raven was going to be so very, very satisfying. After all, he’d been the one to name her so he should be the one to snuff her out. He would enjoy seeing the life fade from her eyes. Only then would he be safe. Only then would he feel justice had finally been served.
***
Lisbeth was happy to be left at the refreshment table while Oliver danced with Anna. It gave her time to sort through her rolling emotions. Tonight had felt a bit like an out of control carriage ride, exciting and thrilling but also dangerous and scary. Was bringing Ashton into this a good thing?
Her eyes found Bellamy and Anna as they danced. She liked Anna a great deal. She was kind and she looked Lisbeth in the eye when she talked to her. She seemed like she genuinely was interested in what Lisbeth might want to say. She liked the feeling and wanted more, but she had to be realistic. She may never find out who killed Nathaniel before the end of the season. Lisbeth knew better than to get her hopes up. She must be happy with having Marie and her grandmother back in her life, for now. However, she also knew she would never give up trying to clear her name with or without Bellamy.
She looked to her right and saw that Gabrielle was leaving. She waved to Lisbeth from across the room. Lisbeth waved back and she felt oddly happy about the whole gesture. Such a normal thing to do, but not for her, and certainly not lately. It was only now she was realising how much she had missed the normal, everyday things one did without even thinking.
Lisbeth had avoided looking at Gabrielle’s swollen belly all night, looking only at her face when they had talked earlier and asking her no questions about the baby. In the wake of last night’s confession to Oliver she missed her son, Daniel, even more. A deep ache that had taken residence in her heart after his death was now throbbing and squeezing, the pain increasing whenever she even thought of him. How can she hold this grief inside her and yet be so happy and contemplating love whenever Bellamy was around? It didn’t make sense and she didn’t know how to un-jumble her feelings.
It wasn’t that she was jealous of Gabrielle but she was envious of her relationship with her husband and his obvious angst for both her and the baby.
Would she ever have the chance to hold another of her own babies in her arms? To have someone who loved her and her baby? Who would worry about her swollen feet and whether or not she was tired, as Harlow did for Gabrielle?
It was no use dreaming of things that would never happen. She would never want to bring a child into the world while her reputation as the Black Raven hung around her like shackles.
Finding a seat, she sat to watch the festivities around her. She watched Marianne giggling with a bunch of other girls and sighed.
‘Such a pretty picture, wouldn’t you agree, Lady Blackhurst?’
Lord Dalmere came and sat next to her. His golden curls, his light blue eyes, and the endearing and easy smile he gave her completed the picture of a very handsome man. He was reserved and quietly spoken, his manners impeccable. Everything about him was gentlemanly. Women adored him but he took little notice of them. He was Oliver’s friend and had been Henry’s too, so for them she would try to push away her concerns of their first meeting. He had been nothing but nice to her, she must at least give him the courtesy of the same.
‘Yes, the first season is a very big moment in
a young lady’s life,’ Lisbeth replied. ‘Being presented at court, making sure you remember all the rules of polite society, remembering everyone’s names and titles. It can be all a bit much for some.’
He looked at her and smiled. ‘Ah, the first blush of youth with all its perils. I remember you at your first ball, you know.’
This startled her. She looked over at him. His eyes told her he was not lying. ‘You were at my coming out ball?’
‘Indeed, I was. You were the picture of perfection. Every man was in love with you.’ He laughed. ‘Even me.’
She smiled back. ‘Really, Lord Dalmere, you are determined to see me blush.’
‘Of course, you only had eyes for Blackhurst, even then. None of us stood a chance.’ He looked at her, his expression one of regret. ‘Such a terrible thing that happened to you. I’m afraid people will believe anything, if they hear it often enough.’ He looked contrite. Was he apologising for believing the rumours? It could not be.
‘Thank you, Lord Dalmere. That means a lot to me.’
‘I do want to make it up to you. I have heard they are having a balloon ascension at Vauxhall Gardens tomorrow afternoon and later there will be fireworks. I would be honoured if you and Bellamy would join me. His brother, Henry, and I had planned to watch one but unfortunately…we never got the chance.’ He shrugged. ‘It would mean a lot to me if you would.’
She had always wanted to see a balloon ascension. ‘Well, I would have to talk to Bellamy first but I am sure he would be…pleased.’
‘Excellent. I will send a note around in the morning with the details. Until tomorrow, have a wonderful evening, Lady Blackhurst.’
With that he stood, bowed over her hand, and left her sitting with her plate in her lap and her mind in confusion. Perhaps she had misjudged Dalmere after all. Maybe he had simply been as wary of her as she had been of him. Perhaps she had let her own feelings of paranoia rule her judgement.
She danced a quadrille with Bellamy when he returned, managing this time to make it through the whole dance. She told him of Dalmere’s invitation.
A Scandalous Wager Page 22
