“Please come in.” She gestured to the hard-backed chair in front of the desk.
He glanced from the chair to her. “Do you always torture your guests by making them sit on such uncomfortable pieces of furniture?
“You are hardly a guest. I allowed Jennings to permit you entrance because I didn’t want to give my neighbors the satisfaction of having something to gossip about when Jennings and Daniel removed you from the premises.”
Lazarus sat on the corner of the desk and leaned toward her. His finger tapped her chin. “Do you honestly believe they would have been able to do so?”
She moved back, away from his touch. She didn’t bother to respond to his question. They both already knew the answer. “Why are you here?”
“I see your manners need as much polish as mine.” He slid from the desk, walked across the room, and closed the door.
“I would prefer the door open.” Olivia stood.
“I would prefer our conversation is not overheard.”
“I have nothing to hide from my staff. They are already in possession of my worst secret.”
He looked at her for a long moment as though he was trying to decide how much to say. “I’m searching for someone, and I believe the Duke of Sandhurst has the information that will help me locate her.”
“Why are you here and not at the duke’s residence then?”
“I’ve already approached him without success. You may be able to help me get the information.”
She stared at him in disbelief. “I’m afraid you are mistaken if you think the duke will give me more than a passing glance. I may attend some of the same entertainments, but I am hardly among his acquaintances.”
“But surely your friends, such as the Rivertons, count him among their number.”
“Perhaps.”
“I thought we could strike a bargain of sorts. You have a secret you need to keep from Polite Society, and I need a way to gather information.”
Olivia stared at him, outrage and a strange sense of disappointment stealing over her. “Ah. I understand now. I give you entrée into Society, and you will not tell anyone how I am losing my mind.”
Lazarus moved to stand in front of the desk. “How are you feeling today?”
How dare he show concern when he just proposed to blackmail her. She stalked toward the window and stared out at the street below. “You needn’t concern yourself, sir. I suffer from nightmares and the occasional slip back into the past, but I rarely howl at the moon like a mad dog any longer.”
He clasped her upper arm and turned her to face him. “I do not ask to insult you—”
“No, you ask only to remind me that you will tell the
Ton
if I do not bow to your blackmail.” She pulled her arm free.
“You paid me a kindness by attending to my bullet wound and then sought me out to ensure I was healing properly. Why do you not think I might want to repay that by being concerned for your health?”
“Because I am nothing but a pawn in this strange game you are playing with the Duke of Sandhurst. You, sir, are not a friend of mine, so don’t pretend to be. People do not blackmail their friends.” She crossed to the door and held it open. Lazarus had more than overstayed his welcome.
He moved with a powerful grace she tried hard not to notice. Wresting the door from her grasp, he closed it with a quiet click.
She glared at him, grabbed the handle, and opened the door mere inches before he slammed it closed with the flat of his hand against the wooden panel. Leaning his weight on it, he smiled at her. “Do not tempt me into a tussle with you over the door.” His smile grew wider. “Though on second thought, I may enjoy it.”
Looking away from his coal dark eyes, Olivia tried to fight the burning sensation spreading across her cheeks. She moved away, eager to put space between them. “I do not understand how you can blackmail me and then in a matter of seconds play the flirt.”
His smile disappeared. “Must you harp on about blackmail? Can you not see it as an agreement to help one another?”
“Help one another? How are you helping me? By not having me ostracized by a society that barely accepts me as it is?”
“Perhaps I can help you in another way.” He moved toward her, his gaze predatory.
Olivia backed up until she hit the edge of the desk. Afraid to take her gaze from him, she reached for some type of weapon. From what the Bow Street Runner had told her, Lazarus could be dangerous. She just never expected him to hurt her.
Her fingers closed over a paperweight shaped like an apple. It was small, but heavy, being fashioned from sterling silver. Could she use it to cosh him over the head if necessary?
As though he had read her thoughts, he grabbed her hand and forced the trinket from her grasp with ease. He turned it over in his hand, tossed it up in the air, and caught it. “You weren’t thinking to hit me in the brain box with this, were you, Olivia?”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” She hoped the tremor in her voice didn’t give away her fear. Leaning back to put as much space between them as possible, she cleared her throat, gathered her courage, and continued on as any good soldier would. “I do believe I haven’t given you leave to use my Christian name.”
“Surely after seeing me without a shirt, not to mention having your hands all over my body, we are beyond formality at this point.” He tossed the paperweight onto the desk, his eyes alight with laughter.
“My hands...” she sputtered. He made it sound as though they had been intimate when nothing could be further from the truth. She’d cared for his injury, nothing more. “You are no gentleman to say such things.”
His smile disappeared, and his gaze turned serious. “I’ve never claimed to be one. It is best you remember that.” He took a step back.
Olivia took advantage of the movement and slid three steps to the left.
He watched her, his gaze hooded. “I noticed you seem to be enamored of Lord Michael Huntley.”
“Lord Michael?” She automatically used the name she’d called him since childhood instead of his proper address. How could he have learned of her
tendre
for Huntley? She always made certain to treat him no differently than anyone else. “We have known each other since we were children. I do not know what you mean.”
“I’m certain you were being discreet, but when you thought no one was paying attention, your gaze rarely left him at the Riverton Ball. A woman doesn’t watch a man like that unless she has feelings for him.” He paused. “More than likely, feelings that aren’t returned.”
She lifted one shoulder in a careless shrug and turned away. “So now you know another of my secrets. It must please you to have even more ammunition to hold over my head.”
“That’s not why I mention it.”
She turned back. “Then why do you?” she snapped. “To torture me, punish me perhaps for asking questions about you, seeking you out to make certain your wound was healing properly?”
“You will be doing me a favor by ensuring I get invitations to the same events Sandhurst does.”
“I would hardly call it a favor, as my only other option is having my private life given to the gossips to salivate over.”
Lazarus scowled. “Must you natter on about my supposed blackmail of you?”
“Supposed?”
He ran a hand through his hair. Olivia watched the black strands run across his fingers and found herself wishing she could do the same. Would it feel as soft and silky as it looked? She shook her head as she realized what she was thinking. Good lord, perhaps she should be in Bedlam. How could she be attracted to a man who could crush her with just a word in the wrong ear?
“I’m trying to make amends for forcing you into helping me. I thought I would help you make Huntley jealous.”
Olivia burst out laughing. Putting a hand over her mouth, she bit her lip in an effort to gain control. “Please do not take this as an insult. But Lord Michael is hardly going to be jealous if he sees us together.”
“Why not? You are a beautiful woman.”
She clenched her jaw and felt her lips tighten into a thin line. “Flattery is not necessary. Lord Michael sees me as nothing more than a childhood friend, an honorary sister, if you like. It would be a waste of time and an embarrassment to me to try to make him jealous.”
Lazarus opened his mouth, and she rushed into speech, cutting him off. “I’ll help you gather the information you seek, not because you plan on filling my head with lies of my great beauty, but because I have no other choice.” She held up a finger. “But I do have one condition you must agree to.”
“I don’t think you are much of a position to put on conditions on what you will do.”
She nodded her head in acknowledgement. “What you say is true. And although you claim you are not a gentleman, you do say you are a man of honour.”
He glared at her. “What is your blasted condition?”
“You will help me locate my brother.”
He rubbed a finger back and forth just below his lower lip, his expression thoughtful. “Help you?”
Olivia conceded she needed him to do more than help her. “Being the person you are, I’d like you to find Phillip. I fear he has somehow gotten himself involved in something he may not know how to get out of.”
“The person I am?” Lazarus’ voice was quiet with just a hint of impatience.
“I didn’t mean that as an insult, but you must admit you would hear things among your…friends and…acquaintances that I would never know of.”
“True.” He lifted her hand and held it between them. “What benefit do I receive if I agree to your condition?”
“I will secure as many invitations as I can as you requested.”
“And?”
“And what?”
“Helping me gain entrance to various social events was already part of the bargain before you insisted on your condition.”
“What else do you want?”
He lifted her hand to his lips and gazed at her. “Honourability makes for a lonely bedfellow.”
She snatched her hand back. “I will not become your mistress. Not even to find my brother.”
He gave a careless shrug. “Pity.”
She crossed the room, needed to put space between them before her temper took control and she told him to go to the devil. As much as she loathed to admit it, she needed his help to find out what Phillip had gotten himself involved in.
“Do not fret. I will do what I can to learn your brother’s whereabouts.”
She stalked back to him. “I am not fretting. I’m trying to decide how much I would care if you spilled my secrets. I have but one true friend associated with the
Ton,
so my life would not change so much if I am no longer welcome among them. I’m not certain I want to help you secure invitations to events given by the
Beau Monde
.” She crossed her arms over her chest, daring him to do his worst.
Lazarus smiled, and Olivia felt the first frisson of unease. He walked past her, stopping just behind her. She started to turn, but he held her in place. “You will help me or I will do more than tell your secrets,” he said in her ear.
“I no longer care if you do.”
“Are you certain?” he asked in a silky voice. “Perhaps I will locate your brother and ensure he meets a less than pleasant end.”
She whirled around then. “You wouldn’t.”
“You’ve been asking questions about me, surely you’ve learned just what I’m capable of. My reputation was not acquired by issuing empty threats. I have earned it by word and by deed, and I am quite pleased with the results it brings me.”
The Bow Street Runner’s words came back to her. Durant had said it was rumoured Lazarus had blinded a man and worse. How could she have thought to try to bargain with the man? Now, she may have put her brother’s life in danger. “If I secure you invitations, you won’t harm Phillip?”
“You have my word.”
Olivia took a deep breath. “Then I shall do my best to ensure you are invited to the same entertainments as the Duke of Sandhurst.”
“I knew you would agree to my proposal if given the proper incentive.”
Chapter Seven
Olivia paced in front of the rows of books that took up the entire east wall of the library. She seemed to be doing a great deal of pacing lately. Coming to a halt, she closed her eyes and took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. Calm. She must stay calm.
She had done as Lazarus insisted—secured an invitation for herself and a guest to an upcoming ball. Now she felt as nervous as a green recruit before his first battle.
It had been nearly a week since he proposed his so-called bargain. She’d received no response to her note, sent two days earlier, informing him of the engagement. Should she seek him out? Would he tell her how he planned to proceed once they arrived at Lady Bingham’s townhouse?
She rubbed the area above her left eye. The tension of her current situation and lack of proper sleep had combined to give her a headache. The nightmares had returned with a vengeance these last two nights. She placed the blame at Lazarus’ feet for their sudden reoccurrence.
She sighed and glanced around the room. The fire flickered in the grate, sending glimmers of light into the late afternoon gloominess of the room. The club chairs and small writing desk were shrouded in shadows. Perhaps she should light a candle. Outside, the rain pattered against the windows, but thankfully, there was no thunder.
Curling up on the settee, she closed her eyes and tried not to contemplate how she managed to get into such a predicament. A knock on the door pushed her into a sitting position. “Come in,” she called.
“A man come to the servants’ entrance,” Bridget said. “He is wantin’ to talk to you. Says it’s important.”
Lazarus.
Olivia jumped to her feet. “Where is he?”
“I left him waitin’ in the kitchen.”
She hurried down the hall. Pushing through the kitchen door, she came to a stop. It wasn’t Lazarus waiting to see her, but Patrick. “Yes?” she asked. His earlier threat to hurt her if she didn’t stop asking questions made her wary.
“Lazarus be needin’ ye.”
Olivia shook her head and backed up a step. She wouldn’t be going anywhere with him. She didn’t trust him.