‘I’m the Comtesse de Vane now, or have you forgotten?’ She held out her hand, a large diamond glittering on her middle finger.

‘How could I forget?’ He slid his fingers beneath hers, squeezing them as his lips brushed the knuckles, catching more of the large stone than her skin. The clear gem danced with small rainbows and jealousy cut through him. Even before Paris, he didn’t possess the means to offer such tokens. No wonder she’d abandoned him for the Comte. ‘Especially after the trouble you took to secure it.’

‘It was hardly any trouble at all.’ Cornelia slid her hand out of his grasp, tilting it to view the stone, as if checking to make sure it was still in its setting. ‘The Comte didn’t possess the necessary vigour to fulfil his conjugal duties.’

The ever-so-subtle tightening of her full lips didn’t escape Rafe’s notice. So, the marriage hadn’t been all bliss. He should have taken delight in the subtle revelation, but he couldn’t, nor could he believe she’d sold herself to the old man for a few thousand francs and a title. The idea of the Comte’s gnarled hands pawing at Cornelia made his meagre dinner roil in his gut, but he hid it as he would a disappointing hand in a tight game.

She’d chosen the hunched old man as her bedmate. No one had forced her into it.

‘And now you’ve returned, the happy, wealthy widow.’ He sat down next to her, the cushion beneath him sinking and making her lean closer.

Her full lips eased into a gloating smile as bright as the diamonds dangling from her ears. ‘I couldn’t have imagined a more delightful way to come home.’

He motioned to an exceptionally tall footman carrying a tray of champagne and selected one of the offered flutes. He took a sip, allowing the tart liquid to cool the acid remarks dancing on his tongue. ‘And you’ve also stumbled upon an inventive way to increase your widow’s portion. Tell me, who do you intend to threaten for money?’

He’d never thought her cruel enough for blackmail, but after the clever way she’d duped him with the Comte, he wouldn’t put anything shady past her now.

She tilted her head to one side, placing a small amount of distance between them. Pulling open her fan one stick at a time, she revealed the painting of Venus lounging nude in Mars’s arms. He knew the fan. She always carried it when on the hunt for a lucrative and less talented opponent. ‘What makes you think I purchased the register for such a sinister reason?’

‘What other reason could you have? It’s hardly pleasurable reading.’

‘Oh, you’d be surprised at how much fun it is to peruse.’ She fanned herself with three quick flicks, making the candles on the pillar behind them waver. ‘The full list of every titled man Mrs Ross ever paid to betray our country during the colonial revolt. Some of the names are quite shocking.’

‘For instance?’

She cast him a sideways glance, her eyes skimming the length of him, focusing on his foot before rising to meet his face. For a moment he didn’t think she’d tell him, then he saw the sense of satisfaction widen her eyes. He inwardly cringed. She wasn’t just going to tell him about the register, she was going to torture him with it.

‘For instance, the Dowager Countess of Daltmouth.’ She lowered her arms, levelling her fan at the imperious woman. ‘It appears her late husband accepted quite a generous amount from the French to turn coward at the Battle of Saratoga.’

Rafe let out a low whistle. ‘Which means all the old rumours are true.’

She sat back, adjusting her diamond bracelet. ‘Given her massive efforts to reform the Daltmouth name, she can hardly afford to have any evidence of his treason come to light.’

‘Which she’ll avoid by paying for your silence.’

‘It is but one possibility.’

She flicked the top edge of her teeth with her tongue as she always did at the end of a well-played hand. He eyed her mouth, bitter desire twisting his insides. He wanted to brush his lips across the delicate blush of her cheek, take one small earlobe in his teeth and remind her of everything he could do to her, to make her want him beyond reason. Then he could leave her the same way she’d abruptly left him.

He straightened and set his champagne glass on the side table. There would be time for more pleasurable business later. ‘An interesting plan, but incredibly flawed. She’s weathered worse storms than you. Threaten her and she’ll crush you.’

Cornelia’s eyes flashed with irritation before she took a deep breath and they softened to their usual languid blue. ‘Ah, Rafe, ye of little faith. I have no plan to blackmail the Dowager Countess.’

A loud laugh from the far end of the room silenced the gentle murmur of conversation and everyone turned to watch the current Earl of Daltmouth, the dowager’s pudgy son, throw back his head so far, he nearly stumbled into the sharp-jawed footman passing behind him. The Earl straightened himself with a great deal of effort and the footman’s assistance. ‘I’m going to blackmail him.’