A Scandalous Portrait (The Rose Room Rogues #1) - Callie Hutton Page 0,63

stomach was in knots, but she still didn’t think they should barge into Dante’s house. He would certainly question their anxiety to get the painting back and might come up with an answer she definitely did not want.

She reached across the space between them and placed her hand over Hunt’s. “Let’s just go home. I’m tired, annoyed, and ready for a large brandy.”

His brows rose. “Brandy? You? I’ve never seen you drink brandy before.”

She sighed. “If there ever was a time for me to start, I believe this is it.”

They remained silent for the ride home. Diana was indeed tired, actually bordering on exhaustion. She hadn’t slept in almost twenty-four hours, and she didn’t have the strength to worry about where the portrait was now.

If Mallory wasn’t already dead, she would shoot him herself.

It was a sorry, dejected pair who entered the townhouse in Mayfair. The servants were already up and taking care of their chores when Diana and Hunt arrived home. The aroma of fresh baked bread filled the air, making her stomach rumble.

Hunt regarded her carefully. “Are you sure you want a brandy? Maybe tea and some food instead?”

Truthfully, the idea of brandy did turn her stomach, and the thought of tea and food appealed much more. “Yes. Thank you. That sounds much better, but you go ahead and have a brandy if you want one.”

“Why don’t you go to the kitchen and have Cook send breakfast to our room? We can eat and then sleep before we decide what our next step is.”

Diana wandered to the kitchen, Cook’s eyes growing wide at Diana’s attire and early appearance.

“May I help you, my lady?”

“Yes. His lordship and I were out, and we would like our breakfast sent up to our bedchamber as soon as it is ready.”

“Yes, of course.” As a good employee, Cook turned and began pulling items from the larder. Most likely, after years of working for the nobility, she had learned to expect anything at all.

“Diana!” Hunt’s shout had her hurrying from the kitchen to the library. Hunt stood with a glass of brandy in his hand, staring at a spot behind his desk.

“What is it?”

He turned to her and grinned. “The portrait.”

“What?” Diana rounded the desk and looked down. There, leaning against the wall, sat the portrait. She turned to Hunt. “How?”

He shook his head. “The only idea I have is Dante took it down and returned it. Most likely on his way home from the club. He probably passed us on the street as we headed to The Rose Room.”

“I wonder why?”

Hunt took the final sip of his drink and placed the glass on the desk. “Most likely because I made such a fuss over it.”

“So now you won’t kill him?” Diana asked as she flipped the linen back over the painting.

“No. I’ve oftentimes wondered how someone as intelligent as Dante could be at times as dumb as a rock.” He shook his head. “Is breakfast on the way?”

“Yes.” She reached out and took Hunt’s hand and they wearily climbed the stairs together. “Maybe we can think of something to do that will keep us awake before breakfast arrives.” She smirked at her husband who smirked back.

“Yes, my love. I’m sure there is something.”

Two days later, Hunt loaded a picnic basket, a bottle of wine, and the cursed portrait into his open-air carriage. He turned to help Diana in, then strode to the other side of the vehicle and hopped in. “Ready?”

“Yes. More than ready,” Diana responded as she twirled her parasol on her shoulder.

The day was warm and pleasant, with the sun bright in the sky. They were headed to a spot far outside of London where the air was fresher and more agreeable.

Dante had stopped by their house on his way to work the afternoon they had returned to find the portrait in the library. He’d been very apologetic and asked their forgiveness for taking the painting without permission.

Frankly, she did not like the way he looked at her, which led her to believe he knew the painting was her. Hunt must have thought that also since he told Dante they were never to speak of the portrait again, and he must erase it from his mind. He also instructed him to tell Driscoll the same thing. Dante managed to keep the smile off his face, but everything about his demeanor told her he knew.

After about a thirty-minute ride with them chatting about their return soon to Hunt’s country estate, they arrived