A Scandalous Portrait (The Rose Room Rogues #1) - Callie Hutton Page 0,16

He shook his head. Most likely the influence of her grandmother allowed her to agree to the pose.

Based on her pose, which Diana said Mallory had suggested, Hunt’s suspicions grew that the man had planned to duplicate the portrait from the beginning. He apparently had not counted on her leaving the country and held onto the altered version for a year.

He groaned and flipped the linen back down. He stood and paced the room, talking to himself. He was supposed to burn it. He said he would. However, he consoled himself with the fact that he hadn’t promised.

But did that truly matter? He sat on the edge of his bed and slumped down, his forearms resting on his thighs, his hands dangling between his spread legs.

He was tired. It was late. He would not decide now. This was not the best time to burn it anyway. The smell could possibly awaken the entire household.

Since the painting was covered so his valet wouldn’t see it in the morning, he turned it to face the wall and would leave it there and make a decision after a few hours of sleep. Despite the painting being burned into his brain, he soon fell into a deep sleep.

With very vivid, very erotic dreams.

About Lady Trouble.

Diana paced her drawing room, wringing her hands and wishing the time would pass faster. Hunt had sent around a note that he would call on her at two o’clock. It was now four minutes to two.

She assumed he had at least gone to Mallory’s gallery to retrieve the painting. Wasn’t that the reason for him visiting?

Her mind flooded with questions. Suppose the portrait wasn’t there? Perhaps he moved it somewhere out of his studio. Or, horrors, maybe he already sold it!

Her heart sped up at the sound of the front door knocker.

She took a deep breath and sat on the settee, her ice-cold hands in her lap as murmurs from Briggs and Hunt reached her ears. Soon footsteps sounded and Diana turned to her chaperone, Mrs. Strickland.

“Will you please go to the kitchen and ask Cook to send tea and leave Lord Huntington and me alone for a few minutes?”

She hurried on when Mrs. Strickland frowned and opened her mouth as if to argue. “You may leave the door open, but there is something we must discuss that is private.”

“I don’t believe that is proper, my lady.”

Diana gritted her teeth. “It is fine. No one will know we are alone for merely the short time it will take you to retire to the kitchen and request tea. I assure you, I will not get into any trouble.”

She swore she heard Mrs. Strickland snort, but ignored it when the woman left just as Hunt entered the room. She really needed to take that woman in hand.

“Well?” She stood, not waiting for the niceties. Her stomach was in knots, and her hands shook.

He stared at her with a strange look on his face. “I recovered the painting.”

She let out a deep breath but stopped and looked at him. “But what? You look odd.”

“Nothing.” He shook his head, and his eyes darted away from her. “All is well.” He waved to the settee. “Why don’t we sit?”

Something was wrong. Hunt looked at her in a way he’d never looked at her before. She licked her lips. “You didn’t. . .I mean, remember I told you not to. . .” Her voice faded.

“Diana, I’m terribly sorry, but there was no way to recover the painting without looking at it. I’m sure that’s what you’re worried about.”

She nodded, a heated flush rising to her face. “Yes, that was a concern.”

“Just put it from your mind. Mr. Mallory no longer has the painting. He has no idea where it is, and you are safe.”

“But—”

Hunt held up his hand. “I no longer wish to speak about it.” With a shaky hand, he tucked an errant curl behind her ear. “It’s over.”

She grinned with relief and threw herself into Hunt’s arms. “Thank you so much.”

He pulled her close to his body and groaned.

7

A week passed while Diana was able to breathe and not worry about the portrait. The blasted piece had been retrieved, burned, and she’d heard nothing from Mr. Mallory. That was surprising.

What appeared odd, however, was since then Hunt seemed to be avoiding her.

Normally they would meet at a few social events during the week, but he was absent from each one she’d attended. It was almost like when she was first trying to track