“Nowhere near. But be ready to leave for the gaming rooms when he does.”
He set aside his tea, then swept a deep, elegant bow. “He won’t harm you; I won’t allow it.” Before she could reply to that, Oliver stepped up and softly kissed her.
She took a breath as he stepped away. “Don’t distract m—”
“No, that won’t do,” he interrupted.
Sliding one arm around her shoulders and the other across her hip, he dipped her. To keep from falling, Diane flung her arms around his neck. Bending his head, he covered her mouth with his in a deep, hot kiss that left her breathless.
“Much better.” With a last, swift kiss he set her back on her feet, strode over to collect his jacket, waistcoat, and boots, and left the room.
For a long moment she looked at the closed door. “Impossible man,” she muttered, shaking her head and pushing away the urge to smile. That would have to wait until she knew her Tantalus Club was safe. Only then would she worry about her heart.
Mary was just putting the last pins in Diane’s hair when Sarah, one of the footwomen, knocked at her bedchamber door. “My lady, Lord Cameron is here. Camille has seated him.”
“Thank you, Sarah. I’ll be down in a moment. Please inform Lord Haybury that Lord Cameron is here.”
“Lord Haybury is already in the Aphrodite Room, my lady. I believe he’s dining with Lord Manderlin and Mr. Appleton.”
He’d said he’d asked friends to come by and add to the morning gaming crowd. Oliver had been keeping his word with alarming regularity lately. In fact, since she’d blackmailed him into assisting her. And while he was very vocal with his opinions, he’d never attempted to force her into anything. Of course she would have shot him if he had, but he’d certainly been less an unwilling slave or even a dictator, and more a … a partner.
Her legs wobbled, and she took a hurried seat at the dressing table.
“My lady, are you well?” Mary asked, her voice concerned.
No. “Yes, I just need a moment. That will be all, Mary.”
Looking distressed, Mary left the bedchamber and closed the door behind her. Diane scarcely noticed; all her thoughts centered around the realization she’d just made. A partner. Him. Oliver Warren.
Was that what she wanted? She’d acquired an unexpected family in the young ladies who flocked to The Tantalus Club as a last chance for a semirespectable life. All of this had been her plan, her hard work, her responsibility, and her failure if she couldn’t manage everything. After Frederick had died, she’d sworn that she would never rely on anyone else for anything. She hadn’t counted on people beginning to rely on her.
She lowered her face into her hands. It was too much to consider. For heaven’s sake, she’d approached Oliver for help because she reckoned he owed her, she could control him, and she would certainly know better than to ever trust him again. What she’d never considered was that he would be trustworthy, that he would be a better man than the one she’d known before.
Diane straightened and took a deep breath. Later. The number of things she would have to decipher later was certainly stacking up, but so be it. First she needed to save The Tantalus Club—with help that, two months ago, she never would have expected.
The book in which she chose to secret Anthony’s payment was Dante’s Inferno, though she was certain he would never understand the threat or irony of it. She did, however. And Oliver certainly would.
Shaking thoughts of the Marquis of Haybury out of her mind yet again, she went downstairs to the club and entered the Aphrodite Room. Oliver had outdone himself; the room was twice as busy as it generally was on a Thursday morning. Apparently every titled member had stopped by for breakfast on his way to Parliament.
Anthony sat alone, his expression that of a cat who’d found a bowl of cream as he looked about the breakfast room. He clearly already considered this his own private bank and believed the more money coming in, the more would go out to him. She hoped he enjoyed the feeling; it wouldn’t last much longer.
“Good morning, Diane,” he said, not bothering to stand as he gestured for her to sit down opposite him.
“I hope you enjoy the book, Anthony,” she said, handing it over to him. “This one will have to last you for a month.”
“Yes, we’ll see about that.” He opened the book to the title page, saw the money, and with a smile closed it again. “Is the club always so busy in the morning?”
“A great many members enjoy breakfast and then an hour or so of cards before they leave for the House of Lords,” she replied, stopping herself from glancing in Oliver’s direction.
“An excellent idea.”
“Anthony, you need—”
“Do not tell me what I need to do, Diane,” he snapped, then smiled once more. “Frederick had no idea, did he? If he’d allowed you freer rein, he could have been living on Park Lane. It’s a damned shame I can’t marry you. I’d certainly allow you to continue managing The Tantalus Club.”
“Yes, a damned shame,” she echoed, clenching her jaw.
* * *
Oliver watched the exchange from across the room. As before, every time Cameron gave his smirking smile, he had to clench his fist against his thigh to keep from stalking over and punching the man unconscious.
“How much blunt do you want him to lose?” James Appleton asked in a low voice, following Oliver’s gaze.
“Two thousand pounds.”
“This morning? That’s a bit ambitious.”
“It’d be easier if he played whist or something where the other players could take his money,” Manderlin put in. “Losing to the club takes longer.”
Considering that it was his money to begin with, Oliver actually preferred that Cameron lose to the club, but Manderlin made a good point. “See what you can do to influence him, but for Lucifer’s sake, don’t make him suspicious.”
“You’re going to a great deal of trouble to help a chit,” Manderlin said in a low voice.
“My chit,” Oliver corrected.
Appleton blinked. “Beg pardon?”
“You heard me.”
His friends glanced at each other. “Very well, then. We’ll do our damnedest. You…” Jonathan trailed off as his gaze lifted. “Bloody hell.”
Oliver didn’t turn to look. “It’s Greaves, isn’t it?”
“Yes. That damned fool Trainor has brought him again. How did you know?”
“Because today will likely be the most difficult day of my life. I imagine the ghost of Uncle Phillip will appear next.”
James and Jonathan undoubtedly thought the difficulty of the day was Lord Cameron. That greedy toad scarcely concerned Oliver at all, however. Today the earl would cease bothering Diane, one way or another. No, the trouble ahead was Diane herself. She was proud and stubborn, and terrified of being dependent on anyone. Of needing anyone. And he had no idea how to convince her that he would never, ever let her down again.
“He’s walking this way,” Appleton muttered from behind a forkful of ham.
And he’d promised to be subtle, damn it all. Oliver rolled his shoulders, ready for whatever his former friend might attempt. To his surprise, though, Greaves continued past him without pausing. At the same moment a folded note drifted down to the table beside him.
Oliver swept it into his lap with his napkin and looked down as he opened it. The library. Now. G, he read to himself.
“What is it?” Manderlin whispered.
“An invitation to trouble,” Oliver returned, and pushed away from the table. “I’ll be back in a moment. Keep your eyes on Cameron.”
“Oliver, y—”
“Please.”
Taking a deep breath, Manderlin nodded. “Don’t get caught, whatever you’re up to.”
Unable to resist a swift glance in Diane’s direction, Oliver made his way to the Athena Room, nearly deserted at this hour. Greaves stood by a window, his gaze out over the garden. “Your Grace,” Oliver said, unable to keep his jaw from clenching.
; “I had a thought,” Greaves commented, unmoving.
“Just the one?”
“When I heard Cameron grumbling about how his former sister-in-law had stolen his property and his intention to reclaim it, I could not have cared less. Until I learned of your rumored involvement with Lady Cameron, of course. Then it all became a bit more interesting.”
“Perhaps I should mention that if you do anything to harm Diane or this club, I will murder you,” Oliver said evenly. “Even if I hang for the deed.”
“That’s very dramatic of you. I remember you being more understated and cynical.”
“That was before I realized I had something to lose. Why are you here this morning?”
“Because last night Cameron lost more money than I was aware that he had and this morning he seemed very confident that he would have more. He’s blackmailing your chit, isn’t he?” Finally Greaves turned to face him.
“That’s it,” Oliver said, balling his fist. “You’re going through the window.”
“Wait.” The duke took a half step back. “I’ll be more direct. I’m not going to interfere with whatever it is you’re planning on doing to that fool.”
Well, that was unexpected. Oliver stopped his approach. “This is the last time I’m asking: why are you here?”
“Because while I don’t believe in apologies, I do enjoy handing someone a well-deserved comeuppance. Cameron’s a snake, worse even than his brother, and I never liked Frederick, either.”
“Ah. So you’re offering your services if I should be attempting to roust Lord Cameron, then? Interesting how often you seem to betray the trust of people who call you friend.”
“I only befriended him because…” The duke took a breath. “Perhaps I feel that I do owe you something. Trust me or not; I don’t give a damn. But I thought I might do a bit of wagering here this morning. How much do you need him to lose?”
There was absolutely no way that Greaves could know precisely what Oliver and Diane were planning, but if he knew about the money going to Cameron it was entirely possible that he’d deciphered at least part of the plan. Oliver could deny it all, of course, but that would likely only gain him more trouble. “Somewhere in the area of two thousand quid,” he said shortly.
“Good to know.”
“This doesn’t make us even, and it doesn’t make us friends,” Oliver retorted. “And if you cross me today, I’ll—”
“Yes, I know. You’ll murder me.”
As they left the library, Cameron was on his way to the Persephone Room, Oliver’s friends on the earl’s heels. While the snake wandered about the room looking for the best game, Oliver and his two companions sat at a table to play vingt-et-un. It wasn’t his favorite, but playing well did require a modicum of skill. And he wouldn’t be directly challenging Cameron, since the wagering passed between a player and the bank. Now he had to hope that the earl would be interested in attempting to show him up by playing at the same table.
Ten minutes after play began, Cameron settled at the roulette table. Oliver cursed under his breath. Most of his fellows would only be here for an hour at most, and he doubted even Cameron could play roulette deeply enough to lose two thousand quid in an hour.
The Duke of Greaves appeared and threw his arm across Cameron’s shoulders. Damnation. Oliver stilled. Whatever they’d discussed, at best the duke wouldn’t set himself directly against Oliver and Diana, but he had ceased expecting the best of any circumstance. If Greaves misbehaved, it would mean a fight. Anything to keep Cameron and his allies separated.
Somewhat to Oliver’s surprise, the duke looked over at him, then guided Cameron toward the table where he sat with his companions. “You have room for two more, I assume?” Greaves drawled, taking the chair farthest from Oliver.
“The more, the merrier,” Appleton commented, and cleared his throat.
Oliver nodded at Mary Stanford, one of four Marys employed by the club, and the day’s vingt-et-un dealer. She dealt out five cards facedown, then turned up the one in front of her, a seven. The second pass delivered her a four, while Oliver had an ace and a three. He made his wager and asked for another card, most of his attention on Cameron.
The earl was wagering conservatively, and Oliver stifled a frown. The entire plot would only succeed if Cameron lost everything in his pockets. By the time of the third round, Oliver had won thirty pounds, while Diane’s former brother-in-law had lost only nineteen. Damnation.
“Good God, Cameron,” the Duke of Greaves said with a chuckle, “you wager like an old woman. Show some spleen, why don’t you?” As he finished speaking, he placed a two-hundred-quid wager on his cards.
As Cameron looked down at his cards again, Greaves’s gaze met Oliver’s, and the duke gave a slight nod. Hm. Whatever it meant, Oliver intended to take advantage of it. He chuckled. “Well said, Greaves. Thirty damned quid isn’t worth my time.” With that, he matched the duke’s wager on his own cards.
Appleton and Manderlin followed suit, all of them chuckling as if they were playing some amusing prank. With a scowl, Cameron matched the wager—and promptly lost, as did everyone but Appleton.
Thirty minutes later, with Greaves goading the earl whenever Cameron looked ready to balk, Oliver finally let himself relax a fraction. He glanced toward the doorway to see Diane gazing at him, and surreptitiously he waggled his fingers. She vanished.
A moment later she reappeared, striding directly up to Lord Cameron. “Anthony, I need a word with you.”
“Not now. I’m occupied.”
“No, Anthony. Now,” she repeated, twisting her hands together. “And you as well, Haybury.”
“Damnation,” Oliver cursed, and, gathering up his winnings, he nodded at the other players and stood. “Shall we, Cameron?”
The earl nodded and left the table, but grabbed Oliver’s arm as they followed Diane toward her office. “I’m down nearly seventeen hundred quid,” Anthony whispered. “I need more money.”
Oliver shrugged him off. “You’ve gone through nearly four thousand pounds in less than three days? Good God, man.”
“What do you need more blunt for?” Cameron continued, scowling. “You’re wealthier than King Midas. I should have your share. This place belonged to my family, after all.”
“I am not—”
“Hush,” Diane hissed, closing the door with the three of them inside her office. “She was looking at the ledgers this morning,” she continued in a low voice, her gaze on Oliver. “I think she’s suspicious.”
And his lady was a consummate actress. “We’ve been very careful,” he returned. “There’s nothing for her to see.”
“There certainly is, if she figures out where to look.”
“What the devil are you two talking about?” Cameron asked. “And I’ve lost the blunt you gave me. I need more.”
“Losing four thousand pounds is not like losing a horseshoe,” Diane retorted. “I can’t simply replace it.”
“I don’t think you understand,” the earl said in a low voice. “I want more money. If you want to keep your club, you’d best get it for me.”
She shot a glance at Oliver again. “Perhaps we should tell him,” she muttered.
“Absolutely not. I am not risking getting my neck stretched because your idiot former in-law has a hole in his pocket.”
“Tell me what?”
Diane took a deep breath. “The club’s investors,” she said slowly, backing toward the windowsill. “The ones from whom we’ve been … pilfering a little money.”
“What about them? They’re your friends; it’s certainly not my problem.”
“That’s the thing,” Diane continued. “They aren’t my—our—friends.”
“Then whose friends are they? And why are they financing your gentlemen’s club?” Cameron asked dubiously.
“I told you, it’s very complicated. And until she stops hunting about for discrepancies, I can’t give you any more money. Not even The Tantalus Club is worth my life.”
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“Your life?” he repeated. “You’re exaggerating. Do you think I don’t know you’re simply trying to escape our bargain? How stupid do you think I am?”
They were about to find out. Oliver cleared his throat. “She has to realize that we expect something for our troubles,” he offered.
“I’ve taken out four thousand pounds in three days, Haybury. Not even I consider that to be reasonable.”
“Who the devil is this ‘she’ you keep referring to? You’re not frightening me, if that’s your g—”
The door from the morning room slammed open. Genevieve Martine, her blond hair pulled back as severely as ever, gazed at the three of them. “I knew it,” she said in a thicker French accent than Oliver had ever heard her use before.
“Who the devil are you supposed to be?” Cameron demanded. “I’ve seen you about. You’re Diane’s companion.”
“I can explain, Genevieve,” Diane said, backing away until she came up against the wall.
“You can explain theft? I very much doubt that, mademoiselle. And you—I knew you couldn’t be trusted.” She jabbed a finger at Oliver.
“Listen,” the earl put in, the confusion plain on his face. “Whatever farce you think you’re playing at, I am not—”
“Shut up, you. We have planned this for three years. And you three are not going to ruin it for us—for him—because of your greed.” She slammed her fist down on the desktop. “We put the money into this club, and the money that comes out is ours. You will repay what you’ve taken.”
Cameron crossed his arms over his chest. “I’m not doing anything.”
“He doesn’t have the money, Genevieve. I gave him four thousand pounds, to keep him from going to court to get The Tantalus Club.”
Miss Martine whipped around to face Cameron once more. “You will not bring this club to the attention of any authorities. Is that clear?”
“I hardly think you’re in a position to stop me.”
Diane swallowed audibly. “Perhaps we should explain the situation to him, Genevieve. For all our sakes. Once he realizes what could happen, I’m certain he’ll be more understanding.”
Slowly Miss Martine faced the earl again. “Very well. One time, I will explain. If you say anything—anything—about this, I will know it came from you, and I will have you killed.”
A Beginner's Guide to Rakes Page 30