A Scandalous Portrait (The Rose Room Rogues #1) - Callie Hutton Page 0,13

to marry the Viscount Stratford as was expected in those circumstances, she would not have been forced to escape London under a shroud of scandal.

However, Diana being who she was, refused to marry the man, said he tricked her into being caught, was only after her money, and furthermore, she declared loudly to all and sundry that Stratford was an arse.

In those very words.

Now there was a naked portrait of her floating around and, if it wasn’t retrieved before Mallory sold it, her reputation would be unrecoverable.

Truth be known, this was one time Diana was truly not at fault. Her only crime was trusting Mallory, although she had no reason not to. His reputation as a respectable art dealer was unchallenged. He had chosen his victim wisely, knowing that Diana was without male protection, wealthy, and could not afford another black mark against her reputation. Being the greedy bastard he was, Mallory had asked for just about every pound the woman owned.

Dressed in appropriate clothing, Hunt swung his leg over his horse, a dark Irish Hunter, named—appropriately—Black Diamond, and headed to Albemarle Street where the Mallory studio was located. It was not a long ride and, with most events of the evening over, the streets were quiet.

He viewed the building from the front, then climbed down from Black Diamond and surveyed the outside of the place from all sides. He took note of the structures on either side. He strode up the steps and tried the front door, which was, expectedly, locked.

Back down the worn steps, he took a final look at the building and surveyed the area. His mind made up, he mounted the horse and headed home.

The next morning, Diana looked up from the book she was reading at Briggs entrance into the drawing room. “My lady, Lord Huntington has called.”

“Oh, thank you. Please send him in.” She quickly slid her feet to the floor where they had been tucked under her bottom. She bent to retrieve her house slippers and pulled them on. She closed her book and placed it on the table. Assured she was ready for this visit, she looked up with a smile as Hunt entered the room.

“Good morning, my lady.” He bowed before her, and she extended her hand.

“Would you care for tea, my lord?”

My goodness, aren’t we being formal, she thought, and held back the giggle that was about to erupt from her throat.

“No, thank you, I have just broken my fast.”

Diana waved to the comfortable wing-backed blue and white striped chair across from where she sat. She hid her hands in her lap as they began to tremble. She knew by the look on his face that he had reached a decision about stealing the portrait. She briefly offered a prayer that he was willing to do it.

If he refused, she had no idea what she would do next.

“There is no point in dithering. The reason for my visit is to advise you that I have not come up with any other solution to your problem except for the one you have suggested. I need to steal the portrait from Mallory’s studio.”

Tears filled her eyes, and she released all the tension in her body. Her palms together in a prayer-like position, resting against her lips, she said, “Thank you, Hunt. You have no idea what that means to me.” Her voice trembled, and she dabbed at the corner of her eye.

“I cannot allow Mallory to take every pound from you, or in the alternative sell the portrait to whatever client he has that wants it. I will be honest with you and admit that, in my estimation, there is good reason to believe no client anxious to purchase the portrait actually exists, and he is only using that to push you.”

Diana nodded. “I have thought of that. But I cannot take a chance.”

“No. Indeed you cannot.”

Diana cleared her throat, anxious to get this last request over with. “However, there is one thing I must ask you to do. Well, actually, not to do when you steal the portrait.”

“What’s that?”

She took a deep breath. “You must promise not to look at it.”

6

Hunt stared at her with a blank expression. “Excuse me?”

Diana stood and twisted her fingers. She knew her demand was ridiculous but the thought of Hunt looking at her naked—although from what she’d seen of the portrait, it didn’t look exactly like her with no clothes since Mr. Mallory had been skimpy on her breasts and hips—had her heart hammering in