A Scandalous Portrait (The Rose Room Rogues #1) - Callie Hutton Page 0,46

ratafia, warm lemonade, and punch.

“Why is he not in jail?” Diana nodded toward Lord Melrose as he made his way through the crowd, obviously headed in their direction.

“These things take time,” Hunt murmured as Melrose grew closer.

“Good evening, Hunt, Lady Diana.” The man bowed to her and slapped Hunt on the back.

“I’ve been wanting to thank you for arranging for your brothers to extend me further credit.” Melrose took time to leer at Diana.

Hunt glared at him. “’Twas no trouble. I hope you made good use of the extension.” He grabbed two glasses of champagne from a passing footman and handed one to Diana.

“Well, it seems I’m somewhat in the hole again.” Melrose cleared his throat and fiddled with his cravat. “I don’t suppose you can speak with them again?”

Knowing Melrose was headed for prison or worse, Hunt had no intention of sticking his brothers—and himself—with additional credits they would never redeem.

“Sorry, old man, but my brothers were tough enough with my last request, so I don’t think it would do much good.”

Melrose nodded. “I understand. I just know one or more times at the card tables will turn my luck around.”

Gamblers always thought the same thing.

Since there didn’t seem to be any response to that because Hunt had already told him no, he remained silent. Melrose chatted a bit more and then wandered off.

“Remind me again why he isn’t in jail,” Diana murmured as they walked toward the edge of the ballroom to stroll.

Hunt was unable to respond since Diana was inundated with requests for dances and Hunt was equally surrounded by eyelash batting young ladies waving their dance cards.

Didn’t anyone acknowledge that they were betrothed?

Hunt stood alongside Driscoll at the front of the small church he and Diana had chosen to marry in, instead of one of the larger and better-known ones. With the small group expected to attend, it wouldn’t look quite so forlorn for his bride.

His bride.

He still couldn’t believe he was marrying Lady Diana Pemberton. Had someone told him that a mere six months ago, he would have laughed himself silly. And then headed out of town.

It had been her idea to have a small ceremony. Also, she would have been happy to only include the few in the church to the wedding breakfast. Despite her argument against it, he knew tongues would continue to wag if they didn’t have the lavish wedding breakfast to show the world that Diana was not in the family way, which was among the rumors that had made it to his ears. It was also important for him and Diana to present the picture of a glowingly happy couple not being forced into this marriage.

“Stop fidgeting, Hunt. She’ll be here. All brides are late,” Driscoll said as he straightened Hunt’s cravat.

Hunt slapped his brother’s hand away. “I’m not worried. And I don’t fidget.”

Raised eyebrows was Driscoll’s only response. Turning serious, he said, “Are you sure you want to do this, Hunt?”

Hunt scowled. “Don’t even think to start that conversation. I am quite happy with my choice of a wife. I might not have anticipated marriage to Diana, but the more I think about it, the smarter my decision seems to be.”

“Hardly your decision,” Driscoll said as he nodded toward the back of the church. “It appears your bride has arrived.”

Diana stood at the back of the church in a white satin gown, that being the chosen color of most brides the last few years. Quite fashionable in style, the sleeves reached her hands, a row of pearls down the center of each sleeve.

The fabric had been pulled back, outlining her stomach and clinging nicely, but modestly, to her breasts. She carried a bouquet of some sort of pink flowers. A white veil that hung almost to the floor covered her head, with a ring of small roses anchoring it to her crown.

Hunt’s mouth dried up, and he had one thought, only.

They should skip the wedding breakfast and go right to bed after they chased away the few guests from the church. She raised her head and looked down the aisle. Their eyes met, and Hunt’s heartbeat sped up.

“Pull yourself together, man. You’re drooling.” Driscoll spoke from the side of his mouth.

Hunt straightened and scowled at his brother. “I am not drooling.”

She made her way down the aisle on her father’s arm. Hunt had met the man for the first time only two days before. Not very impressed with the man, or how he allowed Diana’s grandmama to simply whisk