It may as well be her.
CHAPTER 2
MAYFAIR, LONDON, DECEMBER 26TH
In Dinah’s opinion, most of life’s problems could be solved with a clever plan, a cool head and a steady hand. Failing that, a lady with precise aim could always resort to a pistol.
The trouble was, Oliver Angel wasn’t one of those problems.
She was out of clever plans, and her normally cool head was a bubbling quagmire of frustration. She hadn’t tried the pistol, but it was early yet, so she couldn’t rule it out. If ever there was a gentleman who could drive a lady to bloodshed, it was Oliver.
She trudged up the steps leading to the closed door of Lord Archer’s elegant mansion and paused at the top to peer down Curzon Street. There wasn’t a single soul to be seen. No leaping lords or milking maids. No partridges lazing about in pear trees, disturbing the silence with their tedious melody.
They didn’t dare. This was Mayfair, after all. Boxing Day would just have to wait for the ton to rise and take notice of it, just as everything else in London did.
Dinah no longer had the luxury of time. Since Oliver had taken up with Lady Serena and Lord Erskine a month ago, he’d returned to his wicked ways with a vengeance. The ton didn’t know whether to be scandalized or delighted by their Tainted Angel, but Lord Archer had run out of patience with his younger brother’s antics.
Today, Oliver’s debauchery was coming to an end.
Dinah grasped the knocker and let it crash against the wood with a resounding thump. It wasn’t as dramatic as a pistol shot, but it would have to do. She winced a little as the thud echoed from the marble floors to the gilded ceiling inside, shattering the silence.
Oliver wasn’t expecting her, and he wasn’t going to be pleased to see her. It was early enough he’d likely just found his bed an hour or two ago. His bed, or someone else’s.
Lady Serena’s, for instance.
Dinah grimaced. She didn’t fancy the idea of dragging Oliver out of Lady Serena’s arms, but he’d promised his family he’d leave London for Essex today. Dinah had come to see to it he kept that promise.
If anyone else had asked Dinah to drag a rake from his bed, she’d have scowled them right out of countenance, but it wasn’t anyone else. It was Penelope, and her distress had been plain in every sentence of her last letter.
He listens to you, Dinah. If anyone can get him on his way to Cliff’s Edge, it’s you.
Dinah wasn’t so sure. She and Oliver had hardly spoken this past month. She’d seen him at the Pandemonium a few times, but he seemed always to be taken up with Lady Serena and Lord Erskine. He still sent a hack to collect Dinah after every performance, but he no longer came himself.
Which was just as it should be. No good would come of her expecting him always to be there, waiting for her. Oliver might do as he liked, and in any case, she preferred riding alone. Of course, she did.
Only…
She worried at a loose button on her cloak. He’d only taken up with Lady Serena and resumed his wild antics after Dinah had pushed him away. Oliver had been more saint than devil up until then. She’d meant it for his own good, but then he’d fallen right into Lady Serena’s arms, and—
Blast it. She’d twisted her button off! Dinah tugged at the frayed thread, then shoved the button into her pocket.
Nonsense. This wasn’t her fault. No one had forced Oliver to take Lady Serena to his bed. If he chose to drink, wager and keep a poisonous mistress, then he could accept the consequences.
But what if those consequences should prove more dire than he anticipated? Oliver had nearly been killed in a duel last year and judging by the frantic tone of Penelope’s last letter, his family was terrified his recent riotous behavior would lead him into another.
If the worst should happen, if Oliver did get into another duel and it turned deadly—
No. It was unthinkable. He must go to Cliff’s Edge. With any luck once he was there, he’d remain for a time. Penelope had written that a young lady Oliver admired—a Miss Caroline Spence—had recently returned to the neighborhood. Perhaps her presence would entice Oliver to stay in Essex, far away from Lady Serena’s grasping talons.
But first, Dinah had to get him out the door and into the coach. She grasped the knocker again, but before the brass could meet the wood, she heard the muffled sound of footsteps. The door swung open, and Hugo Grimsley’s face appeared in the gap.
He blanched when he saw her. “Oh, dear. That is, I beg your pardon, Miss Bishop, but Lord Oliver is, er…indisposed. Will you come back during calling hours?”
Dinah snorted. “Calling hours, Grim? Come, you know better than that.”
“Please, Miss Bishop, I beg you—”
“Where is he?” Dinah wedged her foot into space between the door and the frame, pushed past Grim and marched toward the stairs. “Never mind. I’ll start with his bedchamber.”
Grim scurried after her, wringing his hands. “No! Have mercy, Miss Bishop. Lord Oliver had a trying evening last night.”
Trying. Yes, Oliver had had a number of trying evenings this past month. Dinah waved a dismissive hand. “Not to worry, Grim. I’m familiar with the results of Lord Oliver’s trying evenings.”
“Please, Miss Bishop. You can’t go up there,” Grim squeaked. “Lord Oliver won’t like it.”
Dinah sighed. “Oh, very well, but only if you bring him down at once. Lord Archer demands his brother come to Cliff’s Edge for the holidays. Lord Oliver is meant to leave today, and I’d rather not drag him from his bed.”
Grim paled. “Drag his lordship?”
“If I must, yes.”
Grim turned without another word and scurried up the stairs.
Dinah wandered down the hallway to the study and fell into the chair behind the desk. Good Lord, she was tired. The pantomime was on at the Pandemonium, and she’d been treading the boards until well past midnight. It was a grueling schedule, but Dinah didn’t mind it. If she kept busy, the holidays would fly by.
Why, they’ll be over before I know it…
She rested her forehead on her folded arms. Perhaps she’d nap for a few minutes, just long enough to gather her resolve in case Oliver proved difficult. Or worse, charming. If Oliver deployed his dimples, she’d need every bit of strength she had to resist them.
Dinah yawned, and closed her eyes.
“Go ’way.” Oliver reached up a hand to swat aside whatever was tickling his ear, then buried his head under his pillow.
“Forgive me, my lord, but, er…it’s rather urgent.”
“Grim?” Oliver opened one eye, then closed it with a groan. “For the love of God, man, have some mercy and leave me alone.”
“Oh, dear. You do sound cross. I beg your pardon, my lord, but—”
“Is the house on fire, Grim? If not, then I don’t want to be disturbed.”
“I assure you, my lord, the situation is much graver than a mere conflagration. Miss Bishop is here, and she’s demanding you come down at once.”
“Dinah?” Oliver emerged from under his pillow, tried to peel his eyes open, realized one was swollen shut, and gave up on both. “What the devil is Dinah doing here?”