So Diane had thrown him out. That made Oliver’s path somewhat clearer. As a gambler, however, he liked to know all the cards the other player was holding, or thought he was holding, before he proceeded. “You’re determined to take the matter to court, then? To take over ownership of a club with two—or three, rather—partners in tow? That’s doesn’t sound terribly ideal to me.”
Cameron frowned. “What do you mean?”
“I happen to know something of Greaves’s character. And Larden’s, for that matter. And I would imagine that their idea of an equal partnership varies somewhat from yours.” He took a breath, hoping Diane wouldn’t shoot him again for what he was about to do. But in a public setting, a public trial, she had a fair chance of losing. And that would devastate her. “You are the least among us, after all. To be blunt, of course.”
The earl’s face lost most of its color. “Adam House and, by extension, The Tantalus Club are mine.”
“Lovely words, Cameron, but perhaps you need to consider what it is you truly want. A quarter interest in a club where within a month of ownership you’d have no say and likely the majority of the work to do, or something more … tangible?”
“More tangible? You mean Diane? I don’t bloody want her. Aside from the fact that she was married to my brother, I detest the chit.”
Good God. For a man determined to engage in a conspiracy, Cameron hadn’t any clue at all. If Oliver needed to lead him by the nose in order to be rid of him, however, then so be it. “I was actually thinking that Diane’s doing most of the work. Why should you want that to change?”
“I can hardly be expected to make my way about Mayfair penniless while the woman who still carries my family’s name and title flaunts both of them while acting like a bawdy-house madam. I want what’s mine. No more, and no less.”
“Interesting.” Oliver leaned over to the door and banged on the outside of the frame. “Audley, drive us through Hyde Park,” he ordered, and sat back again. “Now we come to the crux of the matter.”
Cameron smiled cynically. “I still fail to see what you mean to gain from all this.”
Mentally sending up a prayer both that Diane wouldn’t object to this degree of interference and that his past misdeeds weren’t waiting for just such a moment to step in and drag him back into the mud, Oliver inclined his head. “Let’s suffice it to say that Diane is a bit high in the instep for my taste. So, considering that she will want to avoid a public dispute and you want to avoid being entangled with men who are more interested in their own pockets than yours, how do you propose … settling the problem of your empty purse?” For God’s sake, the fool had best take the bait. Otherwise Oliver would have to consider murder.
For a long moment the earl gazed through the coach’s window. “I think in exchange for my keeping my suspicions out of court and allowing her to continue as hostess of what should be my club, three thousand pounds a month would be acceptable. Do you like the residence above The Tantalus Club? I heard there were two apartments up there.”
Tattersall’s nearly abutted Hyde Park, and Oliver glanced out the window as the coach rolled onto the path that paralleled the Serpentine River. “I’m renting both residences,” he said, looking back at Cameron and altering his plans once more. The fool was cooperating; as much as he deserved to be booted out of the coach and into the river, that would likely dampen Cameron’s enthusiasm for the more subtle course of blackmail. And blackmail would give Diane time and privacy in the way a legal hearing never could. “And yes, they’re quite spacious.”
“That’s unfortunate. Perhaps we could make an arrangement, just between us, so that I could have the use of one of the residences. Diane and I are related, after all, even if it is only by marr—”
“One issue at a time, Cameron.” He rapped on the door again. “On to Tattersall’s, Audley.”
“Yes, my lord.”
“Why did we detour through the park?” the earl asked.
Because I was about to dispose of you. “I was making a decision about something,” Oliver said aloud. “I’ll assist you, if it will teach Diane some humility where certain other things are concerned.”
“Excellent.” Cameron grinned; then his face folded into another frown. “You wouldn’t happen to have any idea how I might end a certain other partnership, do you?”
Oliver lit a cheroot on a coach lamp. “I have an idea or two.”
* * *
“You’re certain?” Diane asked, attempting to keep her voice level.
Grace nodded emphatically. “They drove off together, my lady. In Lord Haybury’s coach. He invited Lord Cameron to go to Tattersall’s with him. It’s been three hours ago now.”
“I told you he couldn’t be trusted,” Jenny hissed from beside her, then swore in German. “The two of them together? Do you have any idea how much damage they could d—”
“I’m aware,” she snapped.
Damnation. Oliver might dislike personal entanglements, but she couldn’t believe he would actively betray her confidence. And not just because she still held a letter that could discredit him at every wagering club in England. He was not that kind of man. Irreverent, cynical, underhanded, jaded, yes—but not … dishonest or dishonorable. Not to her.
“What are we going to do, Diane?”
“I need to think. If Haybury should return, inform me at once. I’ll be in my office.” She turned on her heel and left the foyer.
How in the world could she have neglected to seriously consider the new Lord Cameron? She’d factored in everything else. And however much she wanted to forget four years of cold disappointment, Anthony was not Frederick. Anthony understood his own shortcomings, and he was intelligent enough to look for a way to compensate for them. Which he apparently meant to do by trying to take her club away from her.
Perhaps she should have let him finish telling her what he wanted, but just the idea of that … man waltzing in to upset her apple cart made her want to be ill. And now that man was in the company of the one man she no longer viewed with disdain. Or she had ceased doing so, until ten minutes ago.
Why would Oliver want Anthony anywhere near him unless he had something nefarious in mind? The two men couldn’t have been more different in temperament and character—or so she’d thought. One was a snake and the other one a … a lion, magnificent and regal, lazing about in the sun until something caught his attention. And then he was swift and deadly.
Unless she’d completely misread him again. After all, two years ago the last thing she’d expected him to do was vanish just when … just when …
“My lord, you are not permitted into Adam House!” Grace’s high-pitched voice came.
“I need to speak with Lady Cam—” Oliver stopped, Grace and Jenny both on his heels, as he entered the hallway and caught sight of her. “I need to speak with you, Diane,” he resumed. “Now.”
“So I heard.” For once she could read the expression on his face. He was angry, and worried. Swallowing back the remainder of her curt reply, she nodded. “My office. In private, Jenny.”
Scowling as well, Genevieve inclined her head and turned back toward the foyer with the butleress. No doubt she would find herself in the morning room pressed against the door, but for all Diane knew, she would require Jenny’s assistance.
Oliver glanced over his shoulder before he continued down the hallway. “Some day you’ll have to tell me precisely where you found that chit,” he commented.
“If you don’t have a very good explanation as to what you’ve been doing in Anthony Benchley’s company, this will be the last conversation we ever have.”
Diane entered her office, striding to the window as Oliver slammed and locked the door behind them. When she turned around he was eyeing her closely. Then he walked over to the door adjoining the morning room and locked it as well.
“We have a problem,” he said, sinking one hip down on the edge of her desk.
“Yes, we do,” she returned. “You know he’s b
een threatening my club, so what the devil were you—”
“He came looking for me,” Oliver interrupted. “And stop lecturing. I’m not going to tell you again that I am not one of your employees. Nor am I about to do anything to betray your trust.”
Diane took a breath. If she needed proof that Oliver had changed over the past two years, it was that statement—and the fact that he’d uttered it in such a straightforward way. “Anthony said he thought you might be more amenable to answering some of his questions about me and The Tantalus Club. Were you?”
“Hm. Firstly, what precisely did he want from you?”
“He was pushing to convince me to admit that I don’t have the proper title to Adam House, and that you were more involved than either of us admits.”
His shoulders rose and fell with the deep breath he took. “Thank you for answering me. I know you don’t wish a partner, but I’m attempting to at the least be a friend.”
She tilted her head at him. “Would you still be a friend if I didn’t have a certain letter hidden away?”
From his expression, her question had surprised him. As though he hadn’t been thinking about the letter. “Not when you first arrived in London,” he said after a moment. “It’s taken a bit for me to realize that you’re not the only one who’s changed.”
He had changed. She could simply no longer ignore that fact. Finally, realizing she’d been gazing at him rather intently, she shook herself. “That’s enough about trust. You’ve been gone for three hours. You must have had quite a conversation with Anthony.”
“He came within a heartbeat of being booted into the Serpentine on his head. I even had my driver detour us through the park for that very purpose.”
“What changed your mind?”
Oliver looked down at his hands. “I hope you aren’t armed,” he muttered. “I had to do some quick thinking.”
“Go on.”
“He strongly suggested that you forged your husband’s signature, and that Adam House is still his. And he stated that he looked forward to having the courts decide between an earl and a woman…” He paused, frowning. “These are his words, not mine.”
“Go on. I’m far past being insulted by anything these frivolous people have to say about me.”
“Very well. He’s willing to let the courts decide between an earl and a bawdy-house madam. When he ultimately takes ownership of the club, he and Greaves and Larden are to be partners. Me, as well. I negotiated up from ten percent to a full quarter share.”
Diane stared at him, feeling like her reality had just fled out the window. The inside of her chest abruptly felt cold and hollow. “How … how could y—”
“No, no, no. I didn’t. Let me finish.”
“Oh, this tale had best have a very good ending.”
“I don’t know how good it is, but I think it’s more workable than a legal fight.”
“Workable? Like a game of cards? I—”
“Let me finish, damn it all.”
Dread deeper than the worry already filling her pulled at her heart, but she crossed her arms over her chest. “Fine. Just speak quickly.”
“I’m attempting to. Believe me. After we’d settled on my share, I pointed out that he was the least among us, and that before long he’d end up doing all the work while the other three of us reaped all the rewards that owning a prestigious club would bring.”
He paused, as though waiting for her to interrupt, but despite her personal and keen interest in the outcome, she found herself fascinated by the conversation. His mind was a rather terrifying place.
“No? Then I’ll continue. We sought about for several minutes until he finally took the bait and hit on the solution. Blackmail. Of you. Your former brother-in-law means to ask you for three thousand pounds a month in exchange for his refraining from any legal action.”
Diane stared at him. Very few things in the world truly surprised her any longer, but this certainly had. “So you decided that my paying him an exorbitant fee every month was the solution to this little tangle? And why three thousand? Why not one hundred thousand? I can afford neither.”
He leaned down, grabbing her clenched fists in his hands. “You misunderstand. That man knew you married Frederick because of an arrangement. He knew, clearly, that his brother had no skill at wagering and that the fool was dragging you into poverty. And he still had the gall to insult you for surviving, and then to claim a right to grab onto your purse strings—while he insulted you the entire time. So I gave him rope. Now we need to hang him.”
“If this is a battle of morality, you seduced a widow a week after her husband’s death and abandoned her a fortnight later.”
Oliver closed his eyes for just a moment. “I expected a pleasant romp between the sheets,” he bit out, “not an encounter that would set me back on my heels and cause me to question the entire way I’d planned on living my life. Now may we return to today’s dilemma?”
Diane realized her fingernails were digging into her palms, and she flexed the hands he still held in his. Had he been as shaken by their first meeting as she had been? It made sense, but she’d simply never quite looked at it that way before. She took a shallow breath against the spinning of her thoughts. “Very well. I … understand your leading him away from any legal proceedings, but I do not have three thousand pounds per month to spare even if I was inclined to pay him. Which I am not.”
His face quirked in a dark half smile. “Well,” he said slowly, “there is still my original plan. I doubt anyone would miss a minor earl if he should happen to vanish.”
Good heavens. “You’re suggesting that I kill him, then?”
“No, I’m suggesting that I kill him.”
“Even if it were something I was willing to consider, you don’t owe me that much, Oliver.”
He loosened his grip, shifting to run a finger lightly across the back of her hand. “It’s not about what I owe you, Diane. It’s about what you’re worth to me now.”
Oh, my. “That’s very nice, Oliver, but—”
“But it doesn’t solve our problem. I know.”
Just when Anthony had gone from being her problem to one she and Oliver shared, she had no idea. And pride, independence, and oaths to the contrary, she was actually pleased to have an ally in this. To have him in this with her. She’d felt alone for so long, even with Jenny in whom to confide. “What is your idea, then?” Diane asked. “Other than killing him. Not that I object on principle, but I am attempting to live the life I want. And that doesn’t include murder. So far.”
Oliver gazed out her window for a long minute before his gray eyes met hers again. “Neither of us has the best of reputations; taking the high road, as it were, doesn’t seem a likely option.” Oliver moved to sit in the chair beside hers. “Regardless of anything else, I never meant that you would be expected to pay that rat anything. You needn’t worry about that.”
“I don’t even like the idea of him thinking I’ve given in to his demands,” she returned. “I mean, yes, legally Adam House should have been his. But I deserved something out of that wreck of a marriage. And I took it. I’m not giving it back.”
“I don’t expect you to. Just think a moment, and tell me what it is you want, Diane,” he said quietly.
She had the distinct feeling that he was inquiring about more than the situation with Anthony. One peril at a time, however. “I want Anthony Benchley and his threats to go away and leave me be forevermore.” She sighed. “You know, until he began threatening me and what I’ve done here, I didn’t dislike him. Until Frederick died and left me with less than nothing, he never overly troubled me, either. They were both just … there.”
“Like a dog is there?”
“No. Like a plant is there. You keep it pruned, you water it, and perhaps it provides you with a bit of shade now and then. But it doesn’t provide any sustenance, and no affection.”
Silence. Then Oliver half-stood and dragged her chair closer to kiss her. Sinking down t
o kneel in front of her, he pulled her face down, touching his mouth to hers in gentle kisses that made her ache inside. Diane ran her fingers into his hair, pressing him harder, closer against her. She didn’t want delicate or gentle. Not now. She wanted real and solid and arousing.
Finally he sank back onto his haunches. “I can say with some authority,” he murmured, running a finger down her cheek, “that you, my dear, are not a plant. Not by any stretch of my imagination.”
Her mouth quirked in a smile. “Likewise. But I still won’t agree to killing Anthony.”
Giving a deep sigh, he returned to his chair. “Fine. If you insist. I do hope you won’t object to something devious.”
“Oh, I prefer devious.” Diane cleared her throat. “And I assume you have something in mind.”
“As a matter of fact, I do. But I won’t—can’t—proceed without your permission.”
“Then perhaps you would join Jenny and myself for dinner at Adam House tonight and we could discuss strategy.”
He inclined his head. “Certainly. But may I ask why you want Miss Martine present? I know you’re not worried about being alone with me.”
Actually, this new aspect of him, this man who encouraged and supported her, upended her more than the one who’d only wanted her body. “Jenny will have a unique perspective to offer,” she said aloud. “And I trust her.”
“Very well, then. At what time should I call?”
“Seven.”
“I shall be there.” Standing, he unlocked the morning room door and pulled it open. “Miss Martine, I believe Lady Cameron wishes a word with you,” he said, standing aside as Jenny slipped into the room. “And I shall see you at seven o’clock,” he continued, glancing at Diane before he walked to the hallway door and let himself out of the office.
Despite the nonsense with Anthony Benchley, she found herself smiling. Whatever the outcome of this, it would affect not just The Tantalus Club but also her heart.
A Beginner's Guide to Rakes Page 24