A Beginner's Guide to Rakes (38 page)

“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.”

“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.”

“‘Killed’? What is—”

“Lady Cameron lost everything when her husband died,” Genevieve said in her newly found heavy accent. “We knew she had some knowledge of wagering and clubs, and we needed a way to raise money without garnering suspicion from the English. So we put the money into the club, and she holds the money the club earns for us, to be used at the right moment. To return the emperor to power.”

For a moment Oliver thought the chit might be overplaying her hand, but Cameron blanched. “The emperor? You can’t mean … Bonaparte?”

“Mon oncle, Napoléon. Oui.”

“This … Your
uncle
? You can’t do this! Someone must be told.”

“You’ve taken four thousand pounds from The Tantalus Club, monsieur. If you speak a word of this to the authorities, I will make certain the world knows that you were a part of this. You will hang for treason.”

“I…” Anthony Benchley sat down heavily on a chair, his face white. “Good God.”

“He truly didn’t know, Genevieve,” Diane offered. “He only thought he was taking advantage of a widow. I know that wouldn’t matter to the government, but surely you don’t need to kill anyone because of that.”

“I don’t know why not. Three years, Diane. And you and Haybury and this … imbecile think you can upset our plans?”

“I didn’t know. Diane is telling you the truth.”

Miss Martine glared at Cameron. “You will go away,” she stated flatly. “I do not want the attention your death would bring to this establishment. And know that I am not the only one in London involved in freeing my uncle. And some are more lethal than I am. One word,
one word,
Lord Cameron, about Bonaparte or The Tantalus Club or our arrangement here, and you will never be seen again.”

“Yes, yes. Very well.”

“And when you leave, you will tell our guard at the door that you will not return. If she sees you again, she will put a knife into your heart.”

“Oh, God. The chit in trousers?”

“Oui.”
She snapped her head around to glare at Diane. “And you will pay back every penny you gave him. You do not get to escape this so easily.” She pinned her gaze on Oliver. “Nor do you. You wanted wealth, and now you will work for it.”

Oliver lowered his head. “You can’t blame a fellow for wanting some compensation for his hard work,” he muttered.

“Yes, I can.” Genevieve looked again at Lord Cameron. “I told you to go. Now.”

Stumbling to his feet, the earl backed up for the hallway door. “Thank you, my lady. I … You won’t hear from me again. I swear it. This is none of my affair. I had no idea.”