Chapter Nine
Lisbeth had a newfound admiration for actors.
Not for their lifestyle, but for their ability to play a part and sustain it.
She too was playing a part. Her alter ego, the Black Raven, was used to stares.
Used to the finger pointing and the whispered conversations as she passed.
It was a part she’d been forced to play by the ton.
A part she no longer wanted to play but had to, for just a little longer, though it was getting harder to pull off, especially in front of Bellamy.
Lisbeth saw him standing alone, deep in his thoughts at the side of Selbourne’s ballroom.
She walked over and stood next to him, taking in the sights and sounds of the crowded room before her.
She didn’t really know what to say to him.
What could she say? He knew she was there, but he did not look at her or acknowledge her presence.
She looked around at the other guests. They all seemed to be having a grand time. Laughing and chatting and dancing. At this moment she hated them all.
Then Lisbeth saw her, just a flash as she moved in and out of the crowd, but she would recognize her anywhere.
Marie! Her sister was here? A frenzy raced through her veins urging her body into movement.
She took two steps before she even realized and was able to stop herself from picking up her skirts and sprinting across the crowded ballroom.
Her eyes frantically searched for one more glimpse of her beloved sibling.
Tears pricked behind her eyes, her throat closing around her sister’s name, but she was gone.
An ache invaded her chest, like a steel band pulled tight around her heart.
Marie!
She turned to Bellamy. He only raised a brow at her. “I just saw my sister,” she said, her voice filled with barely held back excitement.
He cocked his head to the side. “You have a sister?”
“Yes, younger by nearly five years… and she is here.”
“Then by all means, do not let me stop you from speaking with her.” His voice held more than a little annoyance.
“I can’t. Not here.”
“I would think this the perfect time,” he said but he was looking over her shoulder to the room beyond. “I would give anything to talk to my brother right now,” he said, his voice oddly strained.
“You don’t understand. There are too many eyes here.”
His gaze returned to her. “The Black Raven cowering to the mob? You should go to her.”
“I would not wish to upset her.”
“How long has it been, since you saw her?”
“Five years, seven months, and a dozen or so days.”
He looked shocked and waved her away. “Don’t waste this opportunity. You may not get another.”
“Like the opportunity you didn’t get? To say goodbye?”
Bellamy’s eyes narrowed. “Yes. And to ask him questions, about the speculation, Blackhurst and… you.” He looked at her with such a searching look.
Heat took over her body and sizzled all the way to her toes.
She broke the contact, uncomfortable with the way he made her feel.
When she chanced another look at him, he was frowning.
“It seems your sister is not the only member of your family here tonight.”
Lisbeth turned and gasped as her grandmother came limping towards them. Despite needing the aid of a walking stick she was moving at an impressive speed towards them. Her face was a mask of grim determination.
Bellamy bowed. “Lady Fortesque, what a pleasure.” His tone sarcastic.
“Bellamy,” her grandmother acknowledged. She gave no indication she had noted his tone.
She turned towards Lisbeth. “Marie is here.”
“Yes, I just saw her.”
Her grandmother’s eyes narrowed. “You spoke to her?”
“No, I have not spoken to her. I merely saw her in the crush.”
“Good. You and Bellamy must leave,” she said, waving her arms in a shooing motion.
Bellamy stepped forward. “With all due respect, we will leave when we are ready.”
“Do not make a scene,” her grandmother hissed, turning towards Lisbeth. “Your coming back among us is already bad enough.”
What other kind of response did she expect? “Does she know I am here?”
“Not to my knowledge, and I want to keep it that way.”
“I think it should be up to her whether or not she wishes it.”
“I agree,” Bellamy said.
“Stay out of this, Bellamy,” Lady Fortesque said, before she looked around her quickly then turned back to Lisbeth. “Do not be a fool and ruin it for everyone. I will try and organize a meeting… at the opera… next week. I cannot guarantee your reception.”
Lisbeth was dumbstruck for a moment. Her grandmother was offering to set up a meeting between her and Marie? “Thank you. I would never make a scene or do anything to hurt her.”
Her grandmother studied her for a moment, nodded, and walked away.
“You shouldn’t let her dictate terms with you. Seek out your sister on your terms.” His tone was irritated.
“I would if I thought it would be the best way, but my grandmother is right, in this at least.” Lisbeth looked down at her hands clenched in her skirts. She had an overwhelming want to sink to the ground and sob her eyes out in despair and happiness. But the Black Raven would never do such a thing.
Without a word, Bellamy stepped forward and offered her his arm. She took it and together they left the ballroom, her sister, and Selbourne’s armoire behind.
*
Lisbeth was thankful for the silence in the carriage.
However, there was an energy in the air, of issues unresolved, that had her sitting tensely in her seat.
Bellamy said not a word, just kept staring at her.
Was he still angry about the armoire? He wasn’t usually the type to hold on to his anger for long.
Still, he kept his gaze on her. What was he looking for?
Her nerves stretched like the fine hair on a violin bow, and she wondered how much more she could take before they broke into disarray.
Seeing her sister, being warned off by her grandmother, and the unquenched sexual tension between Bellamy and herself was not doing her anxiety any favors.
To make matters worse, she could still feel his kiss on her lips and remember the heat of his hand as it glided up her thigh… to her….
She felt the warmth of a blush on her cheeks and glanced over at Bellamy. He was still looking at her. She wished he would stop. It was doing strange things to her insides. Silly, girlish things.
The silence stretched. The only sound in the carriage was her breathing and the rattle of the carriage wheels on the cobbles below them.
She was tired of constantly battling her emotions.
It was difficult trying to maintain indifference when what she felt was so much more.
Anger, desire… shame. What a terrible combination.
Yet her body thrummed with the awareness of his body being opposite her.
If she moved her leg a fraction she could touch him.
Had he liked her hands on him? He certainly seemed to.
He hadn’t liked it when she had burst out of the armoire, halting his seduction.
Neither had she, but she’d had little choice at the time as her brain had argued for rational retreat.
She had liked him touching her and so had her body.
Oh, but there were so many reasons not to complicate this relationship any more than it already was.
He is going to leave you in two weeks, when the season is over.
Yes, but why not enjoy yourself for this short time? Why must you always deny yourself?
Because I am scared.
Lisbeth closed her eyes—longing for some relief from all she was feeling. When she opened her eyes, it was to find Bellamy still studying her with a slight frown upon his handsome face.
“I’ll take you home,” he said.
“No, that won’t be necessary. I am quite prepared to go on to our next engagement.”
“Countess, there is no use in exhausting yourself.”
“So eager to be rid of me?” she retorted in a manner which disgusted even herself.
“With all possible haste,” he replied.
Lisbeth tried to hide her shock and hurt at his comment. So, he was still angry with her. Well, she was angry with him too. It wasn’t like she started the incident in the armoire, he did.
She had to remember her purpose for re-entering society and his part in it.
She had tried so hard to keep to their agreement and yet after the dance at her grandmother’s soiree he had not asked her to do another wager from his list. She could not lose sight of her goal now.
Neither could she let him forget their agreement.
It was business, not personal. Both of them had let their baser instincts shadow their focus. It couldn’t happen again.
She needed to prove her innocence beyond doubt. If she didn’t, all her self-worth would be lost, and she would have nothing left but this cynical shell which she despised.
“Well, I’m afraid you will have to wait to be rid of me until after…” Digging out her schedule with shaking hands, she attempted to read it in the dark.
“Phelps is next on the list,” he said, his tone bored. “I’m surprised you don’t remember. You must surely have memorized it by now—you have looked at it so often tonight.”
Ignoring him, she tapped on the roof and instructed the coachman to stop under a streetlamp.
Oliver tried to keep his annoyance under control, but it was difficult when she kept doing irritating things like leaning half out the window with her backside absorbing his view.
Did she have any idea what kind of picture she was presenting him?
Was she doing it on purpose? What he couldn’t see in the dimness of the carriage, his mind was more than willing to make up.
He had contemplated her backside more times than was healthy as it was.
He had held it in his hands tonight and that was something a man did not forget in a hurry.
He doubted he would ever forget what happened in that infernal armoire.