Page 73 of To Resist a Scandalous Rogue
Refusing to drop her gaze, she forced the words out around her clenched teeth. “Unless you’re willing to pay me for it.”
He took a step back. “You cannot be serious?”
As much as it hurt her, like a hot blade straight to the heart, she labored to say, “Oh, indeed I am, my lord. For I know what secret the locket hides.”
“I-I…” He snapped his mouth shut and clapped a hand over it. He stared at her unblinking for several thunderous heartbeats, his confusion so plainly visible in his eyes. “You would use it?”
Choked by shame, she managed to arch a brow.
“Oh, of course.” He paused, his face turning red. Charlotte died a little more inside. “For now, you possess proof of the scandal that could destroy everything my sister and I have worked so hard to build.”
She nodded, helpless in the face of such a declaration.
“And what makes you believe I won’t tear your flat apart until I find it?”
“I never said it was here.”
He slashed a hand. “What sort of payment do you require to return my property? Will it require multiple payments?”
The harshness of his tone, the disbelief tinging every word, made her toes curl in her slippers. “A one-time only transaction will suffice.”
“Oh, a one-time only blackmail fee is all.” Finlay chuckled. The sound raised hairs on her neck. “I guess I should be thankful you don’t plan on exploiting my secret for the rest of my life.”
Fighting the urge to wave her arms and declare it all a great joke nearly overwhelmed her. The words lay on the tip of her tongue, just begging to be released so he would be freed from this heinous exploitation. So her heart would thaw from the icy agony that encased it.
But she squared her shoulders instead. Very soon, he would be safe from her, and she would be free of her wretched in-laws.
Finlay ran his hand through his hair, clutching the strands with fingers curled like talons. His eyes looked almost crazed. “Tell me, Charlotte. How much is required to buy your silence? How much do I need to pay to have the locket returned to me?”
A long, dreadful silence expanded between them. It seemed to ebb and flow throughout her tiny flat, and she wanted nothing more than to throw herself on the bed and bury her head under her pillow. She was desperate to stop the echo of betrayal and anger that befouled the space.
“Well? Are you going to tell me, or have you changed your mind?”
She cleared her throat around the humiliation. “Two hundred pounds, my lord.”
“Is that all?” Finlay emitted a sound that could only be described as a snarl. “Now is your chance to demand an amount that will see you out of this hovel”—he gestured around them with his chin—“and into a place more appropriate for a beauty like you. You could demand enough to live comfortably, even grandly, for years to come.”
She jerked her head as shame stained her cheeks. “That is not necessary, my lord. Two hundred pounds will suffice.”
“Surely, you want more than that. Here’s your opportunity to lay me low. To bleed me dry. And I can’t do a damn thing about it. You know it, and I know it. If you were to hand that locket over to Abernathy, it would not take him long to realize its significance. Not only would my political career be over, but my title as Viscount Firthwell would be stripped from me as well.” He glared at her. “My total and complete ruination is worth more than two hundred pounds.”
Charlotte didn’t know how she remained upright in the face of such a question. Licking her lips, she said, “That is all it’s worth to me.”
He pondered her, his willow green eyes a tempest. Abruptly he spun away and grasped the door handle. But he didn’t open it. When he spoke, it was to the wood. “I’ll return tomorrow with the money. Please try not to sell the locket to someone else before then.”
She raised her chin, although he couldn’t see her. “That would be unsporting of me.”
“And we certainly couldn’t have that,” he grumbled. He looked straight ahead for a long moment. “Was it all an act? Did it mean nothing to you?”
Charlotte clamped her eyes shut and shook her head even while she forced herself to say, “What do you think, my lord?”
Finlay rested his forehead on the door, and his shoulder shook as if he laughed. But he said not a word as he swept out of the room, slamming the thin oak closed behind him.
With a choked sob, Charlotte collapsed. She drew her legs into her chest and rested her head on her knees as she sobbed out the geyser of emotions she’d stored up by betraying the man she loved.
One day, perhaps, she’d congratulate herself for doing right by him. But at that moment, with despair crushing down upon her, all she could think was how horribly she’d betrayed her heart.
…
