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It Happened One Night: Six Scandalous Novels

Page 161

by Grace Burrowes


  Flipping to a new page, she started sketching the real man instead of the stone replica. Quickly, before he disappeared from view.

  His angular, sculpted face was framed by crisp black curls that grew long at the back of his neck…long enough to make a woman’s fingers itch to comb through them. His eyes were the greenest she’d ever seen. Unfortunately, he was rather more clothed than the marble gods, but having sketched quite a few of them, she fancied she could imagine what he looked like beneath his well-made but conservative trousers, waistcoat, and tailcoat. Her pencil outlined broad shoulders tapering to narrow hips—

  She froze midsketch as the two men walked right up to her.

  “Good afternoon,” the shorter one said.

  Like the taller man, he was dark-haired and green-eyed and good-looking. And he was much more fashionably dressed. But all in all, she decided, not nearly of the same Greek god caliber.

  Still, she swallowed hard. She wasn’t accustomed to handsome gentlemen introducing themselves. Good manners dictated they ask permission of a young lady’s chaperone, who would then provide the introduction.

  She might have kissed a few men, but none who hadn’t gone through the proper channels to meet her first.

  “Good afternoon,” she returned guardedly. “Mr.…?”

  “Delaney,” he said smoothly. “Sean Delaney, at your service. And this,” he added, indicating the taller man, “is my good friend Mr. John Hamilton. Having noticed you sketching, he wished to be introduced to a fellow artist. You’ve heard of him, I presume?”

  Had she heard of him? Corinna’s sketchbook and pencil fell to the floor as her jaw dropped open. Everyone had heard of John Hamilton, the renowned, reclusive painter of landscapes.

  She turned to him, positively stunned. Her Greek god was John Hamilton—John Hamilton!—and he’d requested an introduction. To her, Corinna Chase, possibly the most unrenowned artist in all of London.

  “Mr. Hamilton,” she gushed, “I cannot tell you how much I admire—”

  “Please stop,” he interrupted, bending to scoop up her supplies. He straightened and, with a roll of his gorgeous emerald eyes toward Mr. Delaney, handed the items to her. “I’m sorry, but I’m not John Hamilton.” His lilting accent was distracting. The deep, melodious Irish voice didn’t quite mesh with the Greek physique. “I’m Sean Delaney. And I’m afraid my brother-in-law here—the real John Hamilton—has a horrible sense of humor.”

  “Now, Hamilton.” The other man dolefully shook his head. “There’s no need to hide your identity from this charming young lady.”

  “It’s your identity in question, and you hide it from everyone.” The Greek god drew a line in the air that traced the other man from head to toe. “You’ll note he’s the one dressed in artistic style,” he pointed out to Corinna before brushing at his own, much plainer clothes. “I’m merely a common man of business.”

  “Please forgive Mr. Hamilton.” Mr. Delaney—or perhaps he was Mr. Hamilton—raised a brow toward Corinna. “He’s much too self-effacing.”

  “Blarney!” the Greek god shot back. “You’re a dunce, Hamilton.”

  Corinna had observed a tennis match once, and she now felt like that little ball bouncing back and forth between the two men. She didn’t know which one to believe. But since she didn’t expect to see either of them ever again, she figured it didn’t signify.

  While they’d volleyed, she’d regained her senses enough to remember Mr. Hamilton was a member of the committee that chose artwork for the Summer Exhibition. That was what truly mattered.

  She clutched her art supplies to her chest. “I’m an oil painter myself,” she told both of them, praying one really was John Hamilton. “I’m here sketching the marbles to learn anatomy so I can improve my technique for portraits. It’s my fondest hope that one of my canvases will be selected for this year’s Summer Exhibition.”

  “I’m certain Mr. Hamilton will vote for it,” the shorter man assured her gravely.

  “I will not.” The Greek god’s fists were clenched, and his Irish lilt came through gritted teeth. “I mean, he won’t. Or perhaps he will, but I’m not Hamilton.”

  “Pshaw.” The other man waved a smooth, graceful hand. “He’s—”

  “Corinna!” She looked away to see her sisters hurrying near, the pram squeaking its way toward her. “I’m sorry we took so long,” Alexandra said. “Are you finished yet?”

  Corinna smiled in relief, certain Juliana would figure out which man was John Hamilton. The meddler in the family, Juliana had a skill for weaseling out secrets. “I’d be pleased for you to meet Mr. Hamilton,” she said, turning back to the men.

  They were gone.

  Lifting her sweet baby boy from the pram, Alexandra frowned. “Mr. Hamilton?”

  “The landscapist, John Hamilton. He was just here.” Corinna scanned the crowded gallery, to no avail. “He looks like a Greek god. Or perhaps it’s his friend who looks like the Greek god, or his brother-in-law—”

  “Whatever are you babbling about? John Hamilton never appears in public.” Looking sympathetic, Juliana touched her arm. “I think we should go. I must get home well before my mother-in-law’s wedding, and in any case, you’ve clearly been sketching too long.”

  Order your copy of The Art of Temptation!

  More Books in the Chase Family Series

  The Regency

  Lost in Temptation

  Tempting Juliana

  The Art of Temptation

  The Jewels

  Amethyst

  Emerald

  Amber

  Forevermore (a Chase Family Series novella)

  The Flowers

  Violet

  Lily

  Rose

  A Secret Christmas

  About Lauren Royal

  I decided to become a writer in the third grade (or, as my Canadian friends call it, grade three), after winning a "Why My Mother is the Greatest" essay contest and having my entry published in a major newspaper. Seeing my words in print was a thrill! But everyone told me it's too hard for novelists to get published, so after college I spent fourteen years as the CEO of my own jewelry store chain before writing my first book. A mistake? Maybe...but my first heroine, Amethyst, was a jeweler, so at least I took advantage of that wise old saying, "Write what you know." And I learned a good lesson: Don't let other people tell you what you can or can't do!

  I write humorous historical romance mostly set in England and Scotland in the 17th and 19th centuries (Restoration and Regency periods). I've been oh-so-lucky to see my books hit bestseller lists all over the world, including the New York Times and USA Today lists, making this second career a real dream come true. I live in Southern California with my family and a constantly shedding cat, and I still think my mother is the greatest!

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  Lauren@LaurenRoyal.com

 

 

 


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