His gaze shifted over her shoulder to Nic, who stood with his back against the door. Arista glanced back and smiled. Nic’s arms were folded across his chest, his black jacket pulled tight across lean muscles. Though he looked almost casual standing there, no one could mistake his deadliness.
Lord Huntington cleared his throat again. “I trust, after this, I won’t see you again.” He handed her a thick envelope with a red wax seal. It bore the insignia of his family crest: an open-mouthed lion, crossed by a sword and spear. He seemed to relax enough to swallow the last of the brandy in several hasty mouthfuls.
The envelope was thicker than the normal payment. It appeared that Bones had set a much higher price on Huntington’s request. The going rate for a seat in Parliament, and a very powerful position at that, was indeed high.
Now it only remained to be seen who would eventually pay an even higher price to lay Huntington low. Every secret could be sold. Bones played no favorites. And those who had a secret and wished it to be kept—well, they would be forced to pay even more to keep it safe.
They never quite thought that part through—that someone else, someone more desperate, might be willing to pay dearly for their secrets to gain an advantage. Bones’s services went to the highest bidder, plain and simple.
Those prices grew higher every day.
“Lord Huntington.” Her voice came out perfectly manicured and a tad bored. It was all part of the aristocratic image she had to convey—her elaborate deception. “Whether you’ve fulfilled your side of the bargain remains to be seen. Bones will decide after he receives this. Until then, consider your obligation outstanding.”
Lord Huntington’s face turned beet red. He threw the crystal glass, and it flew past her head to shatter on the stone hearth. Arista did not flinch. She’d seen it coming. Nic, however, immediately started across the room.
“You’ve gotten your bloody secret from me as down payment, and now a small fortune to keep it quiet. If you think for one second you’re not done with me…I could snap you in half, girl.” The words exploded from his mouth and spittle flecked his chin.
He took a single menacing step toward her, and Nic growled a soft warning. Arista saw the surprise on Huntington’s face, and then something else. A tic began in his right eye. The fingers on his right hand flexed, and he shifted his weight to his right foot.
He would fight after all.
She knew he had a knife under his vest. The earl really should have chosen a more relaxed fit of clothing if he’d wished to use the element of surprise.
“He has a weapon.”
Lord Huntington shoved his hand into his pocket, but Nic was faster. He twisted the earl’s right arm behind his back. The buttons that had been on the verge of exploding flew across the room as Nic ripped open Huntington’s vest and disarmed him. Disbelief filled Lord Huntington’s eyes and he stumbled away from them. Arista chuckled.
The sound seemed to shock Lord Huntington. He pressed against the wooden doors as if trying to disappear through them. They thought they were so much better than her, men like Huntington, but in moments like these, she held all the power. Arista walked toward the sputtering man until she stood close enough to smell his overindulgence of cologne. It did little to mask the odor of sour sweat and hard liquor.
“You would do well to remember…” She lifted her booted foot and rested it against the door by his leg. Slowly, she raised her skirt well past the curve of her knee with a sly smile. “Cooperation would be in everyone’s best interest, and much less…messy.”
His eyes ran down the length of her exposed flesh, and he visibly balked at the sight of the knife strapped to her thigh. He swallowed nervously, and his Adam’s apple bobbed up and down like a dinghy adrift on the Thames.
“You’re mad.” Lord Huntington fumbled behind him, his cheeks getting redder as he struggled to find the lock. “I don’t know who you think you are, but you stay away from me or I’ll put a reward on your head the size of the palace, and then we’ll see who pays.”
He sneered at her, but his lips trembled.
Arista slipped the knife from its sheath. The earl’s gaze darted from the blade to her face as she lifted the knife and slowly ran the tip down his cheek. Not hard enough to draw blood, but enough for him to know that she was deadly serious.
“Are you threatening me, sir?” Her voice lowered and turned deceptively soft, coating the steel lurking just beneath the surface. If he thought he could scare her, he would be disappointed. She did not cower at the raised voice of a man like him. “You made a deal, and you will honor it. Are you not a gentleman of your word, Lord Huntington?” She lifted one eyebrow and let her words, and the blade, trail off.
He sputtered but did not reply.
“Good evening, then, my lord.” Arista sheathed the knife and sank into an exaggerated curtsy. Lord Huntington remained silent. With a dismissive turn, he clicked the lock and swept out the door in a flourish of peacock green.