Dicing With the Dangerous Lord Read online

  ‘And still you turned him down.’

  Venetia sipped at her coffee and knew she must be careful in what she said. Alice’s attitude was understandable. It was Venetia who, for her own very personal reasons, was at odds with what was considered normal within the acting profession. ‘What answer did you give Razeby?’

  ‘I told him I needed time to consider his offer. I wanted to speak to you first.’

  ‘And what are you thinking?’

  ‘Whether to hold out for more money.’

  Venetia looked into her friend’s eyes.

  ‘Please don’t look at me like that.’ Alice averted her gaze to the corner of the room. ‘I already know what you think of a woman selling herself to a man. But...a thousand pounds a year is so much.’

  ‘It is. But after your success in this run, Mr Kemble will increase your wages. He has no choice if he wishes to compete with other theatres who would offer you better. I know that you send money to your mother. If you need some help financially...’

  Alice shook her head. ‘I couldn’t allow you to do that. You’ve already done so much for me, Venetia. Besides, it isn’t just about the money. Razeby’s a marquis and he’s young and handsome and I...I like him. It would be no hardship to be his mistress.’

  ‘Alice, Razeby may be all those things, but do not be fooled by his charm, he is a rake, every bit as much a gentleman of disrepute as the rest of that crowd. You have to be aware of that.’

  ‘I’m under no illusion, Venetia. Believe me, with my history I know how these things work. I’m not a fool, just practical. And I may as well get the best price I can.’

  ‘Well, in that case...’ Venetia gave a sigh ‘...hold out for more. Do not name your price. Do not appear persuaded or that you have reached a decision. Entice him with less rather than more. And, most importantly, do not so much as let him touch you until you have the arrangement legally drawn up, signed and a copy of it in your own hand.’

  ‘Yes, ma’am!’ Alice grinned. And then the grin faded, to be replaced with a thoughtful look. ‘Razeby said something...about you and Viscount Linwood. I saw Linwood in the green room the other night, but I hadn’t realised that you were with alone with him out on the balcony.’

  Venetia did not deny it. Nor could she explain what she was involved in. Not even to Alice. She gave a tiny shrug as if it meant nothing.

  ‘You’re never alone with men in private places, Venetia. It’s the thing you’re always warning me against.’

  ‘I made an exception for Linwood.’

  Alice frowned. ‘You should be careful of him.’

  ‘Why?’ she asked slowly. ‘Do you know something of him?’

  The pause before Alice answered was just that little bit too long. She shook her head and glanced away. ‘Not really.’ Then bit her lip. ‘You aren’t...interested in him, are you?’

  Venetia smiled to reassure her friend. ‘I am as interested in him as I am in Hawick or Devlin or any of the others. Which is not at all.’ But she was lying. She was very interested in Linwood, just not in the way that Alice thought. She did not allow herself to think of the unprecedented response she had felt on looking into his eyes, on being close to him, on spending just that short time within his company. ‘What have you heard of him?’

  ‘Nothing specific.’ Alice did not meet her gaze. ‘Only that he’s a dangerous man to get involved with. And, as they say, there’s no smoke without fire, Venetia.’

  ‘Indeed.’ Venetia had listened to Robert’s suspicions about Linwood and a fire that had razed an entire building to the ground and destroyed the possessions accumulated across a man’s lifetime.

  The two women moved to talk of other things.

  * * *

  Venetia did not see Linwood the next night. She left Alice to Razeby and the green room and slipped out of the theatre by the stage door into Hart Street. Her carriage was waiting outside as usual, to take her home. As her footman opened the coach door she drew him a nod and, pulling the long black cloak tighter around her shoulders, climbed inside. The door closed behind her with a quiet click and the carriage was pulling away along the street before she saw the man lounging in the corner of the opposite seat. For a moment she thought it was Linwood and gave a small shriek before realising the man’s identity.

  ‘Robert!’ she chided, pressing her hand to her chest. ‘You frightened me!’

  ‘You need not be so jumpy, little sister. I am not Linwood.’

  ‘You should have warned me you were coming.’

  ‘I could hardly do that now, could I?’

  She gave a sigh, knowing her half-brother was right.

  ‘How do matters progress with the viscount?’ he asked.

  ‘I have secured his interest.’

  ‘I did not doubt it. Your talent is unsurpassed. Who else could feign an interest in such a man?’

  She looked away, unable to meet his eyes in case he saw the truth in them. She did not tell him that Linwood was a man who could have had his pick of many women. Not because of his handsome looks, but because of the danger and darkness and mystery that emanated from him. He was what other men were not. Acting an attraction to him was uncomfortably easy, even knowing what he had done.

  ‘This is one role I do not like playing, Robert.’

  ‘Understandably so. But it is the best way.’

  ‘As you said.’

  ‘I hate asking this of you, Venetia.’ Robert’s face looked grim. ‘Maybe I should call the villain out and be done with it.’

  Venetia looked across the carriage at him. ‘He would kill you.’

  ‘Such confidence in me,’ he said drily.

  ‘We both know of what he is capable and I would not have you risk your life.’

  ‘I know and I am glad of your concern for me.’ He took her hand in his and gave it a little squeeze of reassurance before releasing it again. ‘We must proceed as planned. It is our best chance of bringing Linwood to justice.’

  She nodded.

  ‘Have you learned anything of use yet?’

  ‘Nothing so far, except that he is definitely brooding upon something dark.’

  ‘I expect murder on his conscience might have such an effect.’ Robert’s voice was low and serious. ‘But a beautiful woman can always make a man lower his guard and loosen his tongue, even a man as careful as Linwood.’

  She said nothing, just kept her mind focused on why they were doing this.

  ‘When are you seeing him again?’

  ‘He does not know it yet, but Monday night. At Razeby’s dinner party.’

  ‘Good.’ Robert rapped on the roof of the carriage with his cane and the carriage drew to a halt. He looked at her through the dim light. ‘You will be careful, won’t you, Venetia?’

  ‘Am I not always?’

  Robert gave a low laugh before kissing her cheek and disappeared like a shadow into the darkness of the night. And when the carriage drove on, Venetia thought of Linwood. A man who had killed. A murderer. The only man that stirred a whisper of desire through her. She pulled the soft fur-lined cloak all the tighter around her, but it did nothing to warm the chill that crept in her bones.

  Chapter Three

  Linwood stood alone in the crowd of Razeby’s drawing room and wondered if it was Razeby or Venetia Fox who had lied. Razeby’s words from that afternoon played again in his head.

  ‘I am not gammoning you! I tell you, Miss Fox did send a note not two hours since. She will attend my little dinner on the proviso that she is seated next to you.’ There was an excitement in Razeby’s eyes as he had paced the drawing room of Linwood’s apartment. ‘So much for your denials that anything happened between the two of you on the green-room balcony, you sly dog!’

  ‘We exchanged polite conversation, nothing more.’

  ‘I do not know what you said to her, but evidently she liked it. She has never attended one of my dinners previously. Indeed, she has never attended any dinner held by a gentleman.’ He had given a wry s
mile. ‘God only knows why, but it seems that the divine Miss Fox is interested in you, Linwood.’

  Linwood had shaken his head to deny it, but Razeby’s words had kindled something within him. Since then the pulse of desire that he felt for Venetia Fox had beat all the harder. What man would not respond to a woman like her?

  ‘Naturally I sent a note back by return, saying that the seating arrangements would be to her preference and that I looked forward to seeing her.’

  The two men had looked at one another.

  ‘You cannot let me down, Linwood. You will have to come now.’ Razeby smiled before adding, ‘To have Venetia Fox grace my little soirée will be quite the coup. And you do owe me one.’

  And so here Linwood was, waiting only for her.

  He stood alone, the glass of champagne in his hand untouched, the bubbles rising in a riotous frenzy through the pale golden liquid. All around him the conversation buzzed loudly. Snatches of other people’s conversations reached his ears. Men’s talk of horses, gaming and politics. Women’s, of fashion and wealth and men. There was the chink of glass and silver as footmen glided silently through the small crowd, topping up glasses. And the high, tinkling, affected laughs of the women, mistresses and actresses and courtesans, not a respectable one amongst them. The latter were all beautiful creatures, all expensively and provocatively attired, their necklines so low as to reveal nipples that had been rouged to attract even more attention, the skirts revealing, even transparent in some cases. It was most certainly a demi-monde affair. And then all at once the talking seemed to fade away to leave a hush.

  He saw the almost imperceptible effect that rippled through the room the instant she appeared. All eyes riveted to the door. In the men there was a sudden gleam of both interest and appreciation, a puffing out of chests, a preening, a sharpening of expression that was almost predatory. And beside them the change did not go unnoticed by the women who stood by their sides. While their men’s darkened with desire, the women’s eyes narrowed. Linwood did not need to look to know that it was Venetia Fox that stood there in the doorway, but he looked anyway...and was not sorry that he did. The murmur of conversation began again.

  * * *

  Venetia saw Linwood almost immediately. He was standing by the farthest window, alone, unsmiling, emanating an air of such dark, brooding intensity as if to ward off any that might approach him. Their eyes met through the crowd and her stomach tumbled and swooped and that tiniest of moments stretched and expanded to fill the room and render it empty save for the two of them. With every beat of her heart she could feel something of him calling to her, every thud that reverberated through her chest; inside knowledge spinning a false sense of connection between them.

  ‘Miss Fox, so delighted you could come this evening.’ Razeby’s voice smashed the illusion, bringing her back to reality, allowing her to break free from Linwood’s gaze. She smiled at Razeby with gratitude.

  ‘It is a pleasure to be here.’

  ‘A glass of champagne, first, and then allow me to introduce you to a few of my friends before we go in to dinner.’

  She saw the way his eyes flickered towards Linwood before coming back to hers.

  She met Razeby’s gaze boldly, almost daring him to say something of the request she had made, a hint of amusement playing around her lips. She knew that he would have told Linwood.

  Razeby made no mention of it; he was too shrewd for that. She drew him a small wordless acknowledgement and accepted the crystal glass of sparkling wine, touching its rim to her lips without actually drinking anything of it. Then she allowed Razeby to make his introductions without a single word or glance in Linwood’s direction. And all the while, she prepared herself and focused her mind on what she was here to do—to see that a man guilty of murder did not evade justice. It was the least she owed to Robert and to the man she could only ever call Rotherham, even if he was so much more.

  The forest-green silk she was wearing had cost her a fortune, but was worth every penny. Both the cut and colour suited her well and gave her a confidence in her appearance. The skirt clung just a little to her hips and legs, the neckline showed the promise of her breasts. To Venetia it was like donning her armour. She knew her weapons well and wielded them with expertise.

  She exchanged pleasantries with Fallingham, Bullford and Monteith. Spoke to Razeby and Alice, who, having taken her advice, was wearing an almost-virginal gown of cream silk that Razeby seemed to be having trouble keeping his eyes from. Until, eventually, she found Linwood before her.

  ‘I believe that you have already been introduced to Lord Linwood?’ Razeby said for the benefit of those that surrounded them. She knew her every move was being scrutinised, that who she spoke to and what she said had every chance of appearing in tomorrow’s gossip sheets.

  ‘We have met,’ she said and her eyes touched Linwood’s and, despite how much she had steeled herself against it, she felt that same nervous fluttering in her stomach.

  ‘If you will be so kind as to excuse me, for a moment...’ Razeby melted away, leaving her and Linwood alone in the crowd.

  ‘Miss Fox,’ he said, his eyes never leaving hers.

  ‘Lord Linwood.’

  The dinner gong sounded before Razeby’s butler announced that dinner was served in the dining room.

  ‘Allow me to take you in to dinner.’ Linwood’s voice was low, the words polite, assertive rather than forceful, but there was something in the way he was looking at her that made a shiver run over her skin.

  ‘What a pleasant suggestion,’ she said and arched an eyebrow ever so slightly. Both of them knew it had been her suggestion. He was cleverer than most men, she thought, more perceptive.

  ‘I thought so.’ His smile was small, secret, the jest shared between just the two of them.

  She flexed her lips in return and, tucking a hand into the crook of his arm, let him lead her into the dining room.

  * * *

  The food was exceptional, as it ever was at Razeby’s table, guinea fowl and peacock, goose and a pie of turkey and ham combined. A medley of the sweetest quinces, potatoes sliced and scalloped in a cream sauce with capers, rabbit jelly, spiced leeks and ginger-fried cabbage, and an enormous tart, each slice of which contained a different honeyed fruit, and on a fine glass dish all of its own a rich plum pudding. But afterwards, had he to say what they had eaten Linwood could not have told them. His attention was too much on the woman by his side.

  She did not flirt. Indeed, she did nothing of what he expected. Rather, the conversation between them flowed easily and naturally. They spoke of Bonaparte and the war that was raging across the Continent, of the exhibition at the Royal Academy of Arts and Captain Diamond’s wager with Milton. Anything and everything, but nothing that touched anywhere near the subject of Rotherham and all that worried him.

  The time passed too quickly, too comfortably. Just an hour in her company and already he felt something of the darkness lift from him. The burden that he carried grew light. She engaged him completely, making him forget in a way that his family and friends and everyday life could not. And when the plates were cleared away and the table brushed down, he found that he did not want her to leave.

  ‘I believe our evening is at an end, Lord Linwood.’ Even just the sound of her voice stroked against him to both soothe and excite. He breathed in the scent of neroli that seemed to follow wherever she went and watched her beautiful face and those clear pale eyes that only hinted at the mysteries that lay beneath.

  ‘It does not have to be,’ he said in a voice that was for her ears only.

  They looked at one another, her eyes scanning his as if she would take the measure of him.

  At the head of the table, Razeby got to his feet. ‘And now I have a surprise. Something new to bring to my table. A feast for both the eyes and the lips.’

  The double dining-room doors opened and six footmen, three on each side, carried in what looked to be a long silver salver on which lay a masked naked woman w
ho had been strategically and artistically decorated in fruit. Sliced oranges overlapped sliced lemons and limes, apples, green grapes and red ones, blackberries and gooseberries—the rainbow medley lay against her skin and over it all a fine white powder of silvered icing sugar had been dusted. He doubted that any of the men would be wondering where the hell Razeby had found such a variety of fruit so late in the year.

  ‘Ladies and gentlemen, I give you Miss Vert.’ Miss Vert, whom no gentleman in the room could fail to be aware of, was a courtesan from the London’s most famous high-class bordello, Mrs Silver’s House of Rainbow Pleasures.

  Razeby’s footmen placed the salver on the table before them.

  Linwood felt Miss Fox stiffen beside him. He glanced round at where she sat on his left-hand side and caught the look that passed between her and Miss Sweetly. Miss Sweetly gave a tiny shake of her head and smiled at Miss Fox, then the younger actress’s gaze shifted to his, lingering there for only a moment, before moving back to Razeby by whose side she was seated. He saw Razeby thread his fingers through hers where their hands lay on the table, uncaring of who saw it.

  He and Miss Fox were seated close to Razeby at the head of the table. Miss Vert’s head lay on the salver before them, so close that he would not have had to stretch out his arm if he wanted to touch her, so close that he could see the slight quiver of the soft green feathers and glittering glass beads that made up the mask that hid the upper half of the woman’s face. Against her mouth a cherry had been placed like a glossy red pearl on the cushion of her lips.

  ‘Something beautiful to grace the scene while the ladies withdraw to their own refreshment and the gentlemen enjoy their port,’ Razeby said.

  The room was filled with lewd laughter and ribaldry, even though the women’s chair legs were yet scraping the floor and not one of them had left. But then they were the demi-monde and did not warrant handling with the same consideration accorded to the respectable women.