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between you and me. Subject to further negotiation, of course.”
    Diane didn’t like that. He didn’t need to be schooled in reading anyone’s expressions to know she was tempted again to shoot him. Oliver held still, keeping his alert but relaxed pose. If he’d been a believer in fair play, then he might possibly have conceded that he deserved a ball in the chest. Fortunately or not, his own philosophy leaned more toward getting whatever he wanted at whatever cost—within reason. Being shot didn’t quite fall into that “reasonable” category.
    Finally she shoved the pen and inkwell in his direction. “Do keep in mind that I still have the letter from DuChamps. You’d be better served by signing precisely what we agreed to. But if you wish to continue with negotiating, well, I know how to do that as well.”
    Oliver signed over five thousand pounds for the period of two years, with repayment at the rate of three percent. Hm. That seemed very reasonable of him. There were, however, other ways to better his position. In for a penny, in for a pound—or five thousand pounds, rather—as the saying went.

 
    Chapter Four
    When Oliver set down the pen, Diane tightened her grip on the pistol. Simply because it seemed as though the danger had passed didn’t mean it had. Especially where Oliver Warren was concerned.
    Finally, though, he pushed his chair back and stood up. “When do I move my residence?” he asked.
    “Just for your information,” she returned, standing as well so he wouldn’t loom over her, “if I had a choice, you and I would be on separate continents. Once I begin hiring employees, you may begin calling on me. I will, of course, be intrigued but cautious.”
    “And ruined, once I move into your home.”
    “You’re moving into a room above my club—not my home.”
    “Semantics, Diane. No more invitations to Society events for you. No more teas with duchesses or luncheons for church charities.”
    The odd thing was, a few years ago that might have hurt. “I have no doubt I’ll be invited to fewer events. As long as I remain a mystery and a curiosity, however, I shan’t lack for invitations.”
    “Care to wager on that?”
    Of course he’d chosen those words on purpose. “Still scratching about for weaknesses, are you, Oliver? Be cautious about with whom you choose to play. I have claws, too.”
    He walked to the office door and pulled it open. “Yes, I know. I’ve felt them digging into my back.”
    “These days I aim for the throat. And I’ll expect to receive the funds by the end of the day.”
    “You’ll have them by noon. And I’ll be giving up my house at the end of the month. That gives you a fortnight, I believe.”
    So he wanted to push at her already. Diane nodded. “I’ll be summoning you before then to instruct my employees.”
    With a slight grin that looked much more predatory than cowed, the Marquis of Haybury left the room. A moment later she heard Juliet open and close the front door.
    Heaving a deep sigh that shook along the edges, Diane dropped into her chair again. “Damn that man,” she muttered.
    The side door leading from the adjoining sitting room opened, and Genevieve glided soundlessly into the room. “You weren’t exaggerating,” she said, taking the chair Oliver had just vacated. “That man is a terror.”
    “No, he’s formidable. But so am I.”
    “All the same, you might have compelled him to sign all the papers.”
    Yes, she could have—but she doubted she or any portion of her reputation would have survived the resulting carnage. “Let him think he can still negotiate. I can do the same. By the end I’ll have him wishing he’d agreed to all my terms right from the beginning.”
    “Blalock would have been easier to manage.”
    “Haybury knows more about wagering than anyone else in the country, and he has more money, these days. I suppose I’ll trade compliance for knowledge.” She sent a glance at her companion. “Not that we have