Chapter 4 #2
Of course, it was Lord Archer who would open his mouth to point out whatever fatal flaw she’d missed.
Valentina braced herself.
Archie glanced around the room. “Everyone leave.” When Miss Hart made to stand, he said, “Not you.”
What he needed to say was for her ears only. He had no desire to cause her embarrassment.
As Delilah exited the room, she said over her shoulder, “Whatever plan you’re hatching, Archie, make sure I’m part of it. Nestor is a nasty piece of work.”
Now that he and Miss Hart were alone, he could observe her in the daylight. As beautiful as she’d been in the shadow of night, it was nothing to her beauty in the full light of day.
But he hadn’t cleared the room to do what he usually did when he found himself alone with a beautiful woman—namely to set about seducing her.
He was here to help her.
Not help himself to her.
“Here’s what will happen,” he began, his voice steady and utterly serious.
“After you throw your accusations around in front of all the ton, the room will go dead silent. You will never have heard a silence like it. Then Lord Nestor will rise to his feet in the stately manner he perfected while still in leading strings, and with a confused smile on his face, he will say he’s never had dealings with this woman—you—in his life.
Which you will have to admit is true, because you, dearest Contessa, are a terrible liar. ”
“Now wait a minute,” she protested.
He held up a staying hand. “We both know it.” He continued.
“Lord Nestor will ask the room to listen to the ‘contessa’ speak. She’s no contessa, he will say.
Her accent is pure English countryside. Then he will deliver the death blow to your plan.
He will accuse you of being the fraud in the room and of trying to extort money from a peer of the realm. ”
A dusky pink blush stained Miss Hart’s high cheekbones as her face transformed with pure outrage.
Before she could open her mouth to give it voice, Archie continued. “The room full of peers of the realm won’t take kindly to the accusation, and it’ll be off to the Old Bailey with you. And you’re too lovely for a place like that.”
Miss Hart’s shoulders sagged ever so slightly. She truly hadn’t thought her plan through. Archie admired her fire and passion and didn’t like that he’d been the one to dampen them.
Why had he added the last bit, though?
Because it was the truth. She was lovely.
Now that he’d told her the disheartening bit, it was time for the fun bit. “There is only one way to squeeze blunt from a swindler.”
She didn’t want to ask what. That was what her eyes were telling him, but how could she not? At last, she exhaled a long-suffering sigh. “I’m waiting.”
Archie smiled. “It’s simple. You outswindle him.”
“I wouldn’t know the first thing about orchestrating a swindle.”
“It’s a good thing you have me.”
“I…have…you?”
“There are worse things.”
“Such as?”
He wouldn’t dignify the question with an answer. “Listen, I don’t have anything on the calendar for the next fortnight or so.” Or for the next year or so. “It’ll be a lark.”
Her eyes narrowed. He’d pushed it too far. “A lark?” she asked, incredulous. “You expect me to place my family’s future in the hands of a man who considers it to be nothing more than a lark?”
He spread his hands wide. “I’m afraid you haven’t much of a choice.”
He had her. But he wouldn’t gloat. In fact, he felt quite serious about the whole thing.
And it was serious words that next flowed from his mouth. “I won’t let you down.”
The words did nothing to displace the skepticism in her eyes. He didn’t like that. For some reason, he wanted this woman to believe in him—to trust in him.
“If I fail you—” He thought fast. What to say… What to say… The magic words came to him. “I shall repay what your father and the others lost.”
A frown pulled at the corners of her mouth. “You? Why would you do that?”
Archie made himself shrug, striving for his usual glib indifference. “I’ve lost more in a single night in the hells of the rookeries, I can assure you.”
It wasn’t true, but it was what this woman would think of an aristocrat.
She didn’t relent. “I find that mildly insulting.” Her head canted. “What sort of a lord are you, anyway?”
“Not much of one. Just ask around.”
This pulled a dry laugh from her. He liked making her laugh.
“Truly, I’m your best hope for revenge,” he said, hoping that laugh had cracked open a door he could slip inside.
“I’m not out for revenge, Lord Archer. Only what’s owed my family.”
“But don’t you want revenge, too? Just a little?”
She was tempted to say yes. He could see it in her expressive eyes. He liked tempting her.
“We can get your money and revenge in one fell swoop.”
“And what do you get out of it, Lord Archer?”
Archie’s shoulder lifted in the unbothered shrug he’d mastered by age five. The one that led people away from truths he didn’t want to reveal. “A lark,” he said. “Besting Nestor.”
It wasn’t that these weren’t truths. It was just that they were small truths.
Spending more time with you, my muse.
That would’ve been the large truth.
“I really must insist that you let me help.” He supposed he couldn’t force her to stay, but he was directing the full force of his renowned charm and persuasion her way.
A few seconds stretched slowly past before curiosity won out and she asked, “What’s your plan?”
Archie could have jumped for joy. But he didn’t. He remained firmly planted in his chair so as not to frighten Miss Hart away. As for the plan… “That’s an interesting question,” he said, buying himself a little time to think.
“You don’t have one, do you?”
“Not as such, no.” Sometimes the truth was the best path.
A laugh chirruped out of her, then another, and another. Then she was laughing and couldn’t seem to help herself. Unable to let anyone laugh alone, Archie began laughing, too. “What is it that we’re laughing about?” he finally asked.
“You…” she finally got out.
“Me?” He wasn’t sure he liked the sound of that.
“You finally got me to agree to your plan, and you don’t even have one.”
Archie stopped laughing. “All we have to do is figure out how to extract five thousand pounds from Nestor.”
He’d set the stage for a plan, at least. Surely she could appreciate that.
Finally, she stopped laughing. “Seems to me all you lords think about are your pleasures. So, what does he like?”
She rather had a point, even if it made him appear deep as a puddle of mud.
“He likes gambling.” Too much. That was known.
“And women.” Well, who didn’t? “And—” Ah.
Here it was. A smile creased his face. “You’re a genius, Miss Hart.
” From a slight idea a plan began to form, but he needed to know something first. “Have you ever laid eyes on Nestor?”
“Once. From a distance.”
“Describe him.”
“Middling height.”
Archie nodded.
“Dark hair.”
Archie kept nodding. “From all the grease.”
“Very light skin.”
“Pasty is the word you’re searching for, I believe.”
“Perhaps on the heavy side.”
“Protuberant backside?”
She nodded.
“Sounds like Nestor, but we must know for certain. Could be a swindler impersonating a lord.” He doubted it, knowing what he did of Nestor’s character, but it must be confirmed before they acted on any plan.
“And how do we make sure?”
Archie’s gaze narrowed on Miss Hart. “You’re quite a small woman, aren’t you?”
“I’m large enough,” she said defensively.
“But not too large, and that is rather the point.”
“The point?”
He nodded. This could work. “We’re off to Tattersall’s.”
“Tattersall’s?” she asked. It was clear she’d never heard of the place.
“It’s a horse market. There’s only one thing Nestor likes more than fast women, and that’s fast horses.”
Miss Hart looked unconvinced.
“Unless you’d like to try the fast woman approach?”
“I think not.”
“Fast horses, it is.”
“Horses?”
“We are going to sell Nestor a racehorse.”
“A racehorse?”
“A fictional one.”
“Why?”
“Because an Arabian stallion can easily go for five thousand pounds, and we just so happen to know a lord who has that amount of blunt.”
“And how do I and my…small-ness…fit into this scheme?” She looked as if she hadn’t wanted to ask.
“Well, you don’t. Not as you are anyway.”
“Explain.”
“Do you still have the trousers from last night in your possession?”
“Pardon?”
From the expression on her face, it looked as if it was occurring to Miss Hart that he might not simply be an eccentric lord, but one who was madder than a March hare.
His next words certainly wouldn’t disabuse her of that impression.
“As my stable lad, you’ll do quite nicely.”
And with that, he stood. He’d always known when to make an exit. Miss Hart’s flummoxed gaze fast upon him, he crossed the room and stopped at the open doorway. “Meet me at the foot of the stairs within the half hour. In your trousers,” he added, as if that weren’t already clear.
With that, he exited the room, leaving Miss Hart and her dumbfounded expression behind. A spring in his step, Archie felt utterly inspired and utterly alive for the first time in months.
Somehow, he’d convinced his muse to spend more time with him.
How could this afternoon be anything other than a lark?