Page 6 of The Last Chance
Should she tell a half-truth to pacify him?
Perhaps avoidance was best.
“You’ll not hang for calling a constable,” she countered.
“I threatened to kill that man in front of witnesses last night.” He stabbed a finger at the blackguard’s lifeless body. “Now he’s dead in a premises across the street. The Earl of Berridge will have my neck for this. Do you know how many men would like to see me hanged?”
“But I would testify in your defence.”
“Half the men on the bench are corrupt.” He laughed, a cold, hollow sound. “You’d be surprised how many witnesses they’d find to say I entered this building at the time of death. How they would say I threatened to drive a jewelled blade into his back.”
“It won’t come to that.” The thought of Mr Chance suffering on her account left her nauseous. Bile threatened to rise to her throat. “He must have been dead for hours. The men at the gaming tables will give you an alibi.”
“The men who owe me a small fortune? I don’t think so.” His mocking snort echoed through the room. “Of all the women I’ve ever met, I never expected you to be so naive.”
“Naive?” The devil lying dead on the floor had stolen her innocence when she was barely eighteen. She had spent a decade learning hard lessons. “Is it wrong to believe that justice will prevail? Perhaps you should try being a little more optimistic.”
“Optimistic?” He stepped closer, her heart fluttering in response. “If you’d lived my life, you would know it pays to believe the worst.”
“If you’d lived my life, you’d know all I have is hope.” She squared her shoulders, making it clear she was entitled to her own opinion. “Sometimes the truth is hard to bear.”
“You’re wrong. The truth can be liberating.”
“We’re allowed to disagree.”
“Not when dealing with this matter.” Like his stamina in the fighting pits, his steady sigh held no promise of surrender. “You dragged me into this mess. You will follow my instructions to the letter. There’ll be no argument.”
She stepped back. “I have a voice, Mr Chance. You’ll not browbeat me into submission.” Though her situation was indeed dire, she dared to test his resolve. Why wouldn’t she? Every man in her life had failed her. “If you cannot accept that, I suggest you leave before Mr Daventry arrives.”
He reached for her, wrapping his long fingers around her wrist. He always avoided physical contact. It seemed to pain him to touch her now. “Don’t test my patience. I’m the King of Obstinacy. If I leave this room, I’ll not come back.”
She didn’t believe him.
A man of integrity lived beneath his devilish facade.
“I’m a woman, not a child. You will consult me before making decisions on my behalf. This will be a partnership. A joint effort to clear our names. What is so difficult about that?”
He released her like her skin burned him. “Why do you persist in being awkward? Were you born to torment me? Perhaps you’ve failed to grasp what it means to have a murdered man in your house.”
Born to torment him? Did he truly believe that? Though the statement was absurd, he often treated her like a thorn in his side.
“I’m more than aware of what’s at stake here.”
With a growl of frustration, he turned abruptly and marched towards the door. She expected him to storm out, but he hesitated, his reluctance to leave evident in his rigid stance.
And so she offered a titbit to feed his curiosity. “I was eighteen when I last spoke to Lord Howard. He was The Honourable Benjamin Wilson then. A title that proved wholly unsuitable.”
Mr Chance paused, one hand on the doorknob. He did notface her but turned his head a fraction. “Am I to understand you’ve reconsidered and mean to follow my direction?”
“I’m afraid not.” She refused to surrender just yet. Then he would assume he could always get his own way. “You seemed eager to know why I despise him. And you deserve something for your trouble tonight.”
“I would prefer brandy and your submission, not your feeble attempts to keep me here.”
Oh, he really was the King of Obstinacy.
But he would not forsake her.
She knew that about him, at least.
