by Gayle Callen
In Pursuit of a Scandalous Lady
Gayle Callen
To my sister-in-law, Rosemary Kloecker:
Thanks so much for becoming my sister when
you married my brother. You bring such joy
and laughter to our family, but especially to
my mother, whom you love as if she were your
own. Words can’t express my gratitude.
Contents
Chapter 1
Julian Delane, Earl of Parkhurst, stared at the painting of…
Chapter 2
The next afternoon, when the luncheon ended, Rebecca Leland was…
Chapter 3
Rebecca marched boldly into the overheated ballroom that night, and…
Chapter 4
Julian knew that everything he did to Rebecca, every touch,…
Chapter 5
Rebecca didn’t think Lord Parkhurst saw her as she slipped…
Chapter 6
Rebecca found it terribly easy to switch her train ticket…
Chapter 7
Rebecca felt like she was flying. It wasn’t that long…
Chapter 8
When she felt big hands around her waist, Rebecca gasped…
Chapter 9
For Rebecca, the lone bed had begun to encroach more…
Chapter 10
After Julian had gone, Rebecca groaned and put her head…
Chapter 11
The sun peered behind hazy clouds, warming the spring day,…
Chapter 12
Julian enjoyed the curve of Rebecca’s hips on his thigh,…
Chapter 13
In the morning, Mrs. Lambe’s manservant Tusser was dutifully awaiting her…
Chapter 14
Rebecca knew she risked much—and not just by provoking Julian…
Chapter 15
Still on her knees, Rebecca gaped up at Julian, his…
Chapter 16
Julian walked at Rebecca’s side as they returned to the…
Chapter 17
Rebecca felt boneless with pleasure, bent backward in Julian’s arms.
Chapter 18
They spent the rest of the morning and early afternoon…
Chapter 19
Julian felt mindless, beyond pleasure into a world of sensation…
Chapter 20
Rebecca put their awkward morning encounter out of her mind.
Chapter 21
As Julian kissed between her thighs, Rebecca found herself shuddering,…
Chapter 22
Well before dawn, Julian arose to dress. Dazed with sleep,…
Chapter 23
Rebecca didn’t know what she’d expected in the way of…
Chapter 24
In the darkness, Julian made it at last to the…
Epilogue
Lady Rosa Leland did not understand the change that had…
About the Author
Other Books by Gayle Callen
Copyright
About the Publisher
Chapter 1
London, 1846
Julian Delane, Earl of Parkhurst, stared at the painting of the nude woman displayed in the saloon of the gentlemen’s club, transfixed. Behind him, the last of the evening’s gamblers called loudly to each other at the faro tables. He stood shoulder to shoulder with his friends, Leo Wade and Peter Derby, admiring the way the model’s body glowed in candlelit darkness, swathed in a long scarf that enticed rather than hid. She reclined on her side, body arched, head completely hidden in shadows. Though she was the perfection of the female form, his mind was already thinking beyond the obvious titillation to the realization that had swept over him the moment he saw the painting: regardless of her obscured features, he knew the woman’s identity by the red heart-shaped diamond resting between the lovely curves of her breasts.
A gift from a maharajah to his father, the rare jewel, called the Scandalous Lady, had been stolen from his family more than ten years before. Its loss had caused cruel gossip…and his father’s death. He’d thought it gone forever—until yesterday when Miss Rebecca Leland had appeared at a ball brazenly displaying it for all the world to see. He’d been stunned, nearly overcome by the urge to make a spectacle of himself by confronting her before all of the ton.
Since then he’d been making plans for how best to approach Miss Leland with his questions, and had only allowed himself to be dragged out this night in hopes that Leo, who knew everyone, could tell him something about the woman. As he had not considered Rebecca in his meticulous research for a proper bride, he realized he knew very little about her other than that an alliance with her scandal-plagued family would not meet his requirements.
Yet…how could the model in this painting be her, a sensual image, a man’s desperate dream, the supposedly innocent young cousin of the Duke of Madingley?
“Isn’t the painting magnificent?” Leo drawled, his cheroot clenched between his teeth.
Leo grinned, his dimples winking, his blond curls disheveled, as if a woman had recently run her hands through his hair. And one probably had. On Julian’s other side, Peter Derby, quieter, tall and sandy-haired, tilted his head and narrowed his eyes, as if he could will to life the secrets of the painting. Both men were younger sons, with competent elder brothers. Julian almost envied them.
Leo had been trying to lure him away from his work for several days, raving about the new painting. Now Julian regretted the lost time.
“Who is she?” he found himself asking, though he already knew the truth.
“That’s the interesting part,” Leo said. He raised his brows and gave a devilish smile. “She’s one of us.”
Peter choked on a cough. “What did you say?”
Leo laughed. “She’s of Society, my boy.”
Julian exhaled slowly. What more proof did he need of Miss Leland’s identity as the model? “Surely you’re mistaken,” he said in a mild voice, hoping for information.
“Not according to the artist,” Leo continued. “His name is Roger Eastfield.”
“I’ve heard of him,” Peter said, surprise in his voice. “My brother collects his work.”
“I can see why,” Julian said dryly. It was not so easy to concentrate on the jewel, the source of so much family trauma, when the woman’s golden assets were larger than life, glowing as if with the luster of a pearl.
“Eastfield approached the managers of the club with a sad story about the painting,” Leo continued. “Apparently he’s a rather reclusive young man and not wise in the way of the world. He said it had been meant for a private collection in France until the money fell through. There was something about an ill mother, and needing money to visit her, but in the end, the beauty of the painting persuaded the managers to purchase it.”
“But a woman of Society?” Peter asked doubtfully.
“All of us have secrets,” Julian mused.
“Let me finish,” Leo said with exasperation. “He wanted more money than the managers would offer, so he sweetened the deal, swearing that the model is a woman from a prominent family of the ton.”
A ducal family, Julian knew. One could not be more prominent unless a member of the royal family. But he somehow couldn’t see young Queen Victoria acting so foolhardily.
“And they believed him?” Peter threw his hands wide.
“They did. He has a reputation for honesty. The diamond helps, of course. Exquisite, don’t you think?”
Julian said nothing. Cursed was what it was.
Leo threw his arms around each of their shoulders. “I was looking forward to seeing your face, Julian. You’re settled now, man, your family at peace at last. Can you not enjoy life?”
/> Julian had hoped for that, of course, had begun to put into place his plan to find the perfect wife. But the reappearance of the diamond changed everything. He had to see what else Leo might know about Rebecca Leland—without appearing too interested. “I’ll enjoy taking your money,” he said, forcing a smile. “Shall we play?”
Laughing, the three of them left the saloon and found the private card room empty. For several more hours, they played and talked and drank, until the other members were gone, and they’d sent the last waiter to bed in the servants’ quarters on the top floor. Julian learned little else about Rebecca except a tidbit from Peter that she had spent much of her childhood closeted away due to numerous illnesses. Julian thought about the woman he’d seen at the ball, the bold way she’d strode across the gleaming floor, the way men had eyed her—she looked too alive to be sickly.
The club was quiet as they concentrated on their cards, eyeing each other with friendly competitiveness, smoke from Leo’s cheroot drifting around them. Suddenly, they heard a sound, muffled even as it echoed up the grand staircase in the main hall.
The three men exchanged curious glances.
“I thought the staff had gone to bed,” Julian said.
“So they told us.” Peter scratched his head and yawned. “Think they’re coming to kick us out.”
“They wouldn’t do that to an earl,” Leo said, nodding toward Julian.
“Or the brother of a viscount,” Julian shot back, thinking he’d had a bit too much to drink. He put up a hand, frowning, and spoke in a softer voice. “I heard nothing else. Someone is deliberately trying to be quiet.” He tilted his head toward the closed door and waited.
At the next creak of the stair, someone hushed someone else out in the hall. The gazes of the three men met and held, even as their smiles died.
Julian reached and turned down the lamp until they could barely see. “So they won’t notice us when we open the door,” he whispered, then got to his feet.
When the two men crowded drunkenly behind him, he had to push them back, the gloom too great for them to see his warning frown. Very slowly, he opened the door, grateful that the hinges were well oiled. He could see little at first, his eyes yet unaccustomed to the gloom, except for the tiny bobbing flame from a single candle. But the cavernous hall, with the staircase rising up through the center, was lit from below by a single lamp.
It illuminated the cautious steps of three figures just reaching the first floor. They wore dark trousers, coats and hats, but were slight enough that Julian whispered over his shoulder, “They’re boys.”
He turned back to peer out, feeling his friends crowding behind him. They all watched the youths creep toward the main saloon and disappear within.
Julian gestured and emerged from the card room, the other two trailing behind him. They made no sound, which was amazing for three men well into their cups. Large hunting portraits covering all the way to the ceiling of the hall were silhouetted in the gloom, a spark of light occasionally catching a golden frame.
Julian, Leo, and Peter reached the doorway to the saloon and cautiously peered in. The three young intruders stood with their backs to the door, facing the nude portrait.
“Boys will be boys,” Leo whispered.
Julian glared at him and Leo rolled his eyes.
The boys whispered among themselves, then separated along the length of the painting, put their hands on the frame, and attempted to lift.
Those were not the rough hands of boys, but were slim and delicate.
Julian stepped into the room, knowing that the meager light of a single candle would barely illuminate him. “Caught in the act,” he said, his deep voice cutting into the silence.
He heard several gasps. The painting frame banged against the wall, but hadn’t been dislodged. The three figures seemed frozen.
“You can’t run,” Julian continued. “We are between you and escape. Now why don’t you turn around, so we can see the thieves who dare attempt to steal the club’s painting?”
They seemed to share an unspoken communication, then slowly turned around, heads lowered, their faces shadowed beneath the brims of their caps. The single candle wavered on a table beside them. The “boys” slumped, shoulders rounded, hands in pockets, scuffing booted toes on the floor.
“We were just looking,” one said in a low, husky voice.
“As you lifted the painting?” Leo asked in amusement. As he used their candle to light a lamp, they all backed up against the wall, shoulders brushing the painting. “I didn’t know I was so threatening,” he added dryly.
“They should feel threatened,” Julian said. “We’re witnesses to their crime. It’s a shame they can’t induce us to forget that this happened.”
There was a pregnant pause.
Peter sighed loudly. “Shall I awaken the proprietor?”
“Wait!” one of the thieves called, voice desperate—and an octave higher.
“Take off your hat,” Julian commanded.
Again the thieves seemed to commune as they glanced at each other. The one who’d spoken stepped forward, shoulders back, and removed the cap. Dark brown hair gleamed where it wound about her head. One lustrous curl slid slowly to her shoulder. Julian inhaled swiftly.
Rebecca Leland, the woman who’d revealed herself without qualm for a public painting, taking the chance that she would forever ruin her reputation.
In the low light, her eyes glittered, full of pride and defiance. Her complexion glowed in her heart-shaped face, her lips taut but full. She didn’t betray her nerves by licking them, but something dark inside Julian wished she would. He mentally shook himself, irritated that he was distracted by a pretty face. And he never usually overindulged in drink either. The latter was surely why he noticed that the open collar of her shirt showed the delicate lines of her throat. The loose fit of her coat could not hide the roundness of her breasts. He well remembered the way such lushness had framed the heart-shaped diamond.
But the diamond and her indiscretion were all on display, bold as life, filling the wall behind her head like an invitation to sin. What did she think of her erotic exhibit? Was she embarrassed? Did her companions even know the truth?
As the tension in the room escalated, filling the air with the heaviness that usually preceded a thunderstorm, the other two women bravely followed their leader, removing their hats.
“Ladies, we have not been formally introduced,” Julian said, feeling as if he were speaking only to Rebecca.
“Susanna—” Peter began, but stopped himself.
The women all glanced at Peter with a trace of chagrin. He was evidently on more familiar terms with the young ladies.
Leo chuckled. “Lord Parkhurst, you are making the acquaintance of the Leland sisters, Susanna and Rebecca, and their cousin Lady Elizabeth Cabot, sister of the duke.”
Julian knew that the duke was half Spanish, so he deduced that the black-haired woman was his sister. That left the redhead for Rebecca’s sister. He thought he saw a resemblance to Rebecca beneath the spectacles Susanna wore. They had the same delicate nose and bold cheekbones. But Rebecca by far had the lushest mouth.
“I can think of only one reason that three ladies of Society would dare to invade a gentlemen’s club,” Julian said slowly.
Crimson splashed across Rebecca’s cheeks—but then he could not imagine that she was innocent.
“We dared each other,” she said.
He arched a brow and sauntered closer. He knew he was too big, too broad-shouldered for a Society gentleman. He had the body of a boxer, and he saw the flicker of apprehension in Susanna’s eyes as he approached.
But Rebecca only glared up at him, obviously unimpressed by his intimidation.
“You dared each other to steal this particular painting?” he countered.
She didn’t look to her compatriots for confirmation. “Of course not. We could hardly expect to steal such a thing. We wanted to play a prank and hide it.”
“So
you knew about this painting?”
“No! But how could we not choose it, once we arrived? I dare say, men as a species are rather vulgar.”
Said the woman who’d posed nude, Julian thought with a trace of amusement. “I think there is another reason you targeted this painting,” he said. “The artist, Roger Eastfield, claims the model is a young lady of Society. So which of you is it?”
He pointed to the painting, saw all three women look that way. Color rose in their faces, and he imagined they must feel embarrassed. Rebecca lifted her chin, determination flattening her mouth.
But before she could say anything, both Elizabeth and Susanna spoke in perfect harmony. “I’m the model.”
Julian heard Leo chuckle, but he didn’t take his gaze from Rebecca’s face. She grinned up at him, her changeable hazel eyes suddenly twinkling.
“I’m the model,” she said.
He crossed his arms over his chest, saw the way her gaze darted—nervously?—down his body. He could not help his reluctant feeling of admiration at their bravery. They were all protecting Rebecca.
“Now, isn’t this a puzzle,” Leo murmured, amusement lacing his words.
“Oh, come now, ladies,” Peter said. “I would not have expected this from any of you. If your brothers knew of this—”
“They aren’t in town,” Elizabeth interrupted boldly.
“During the height of the Season?” Julian asked. Now he knew why the women had felt so free to make mischief.
“They’re hunting in—” Susanna broke off at Rebecca’s warning frown.
“Hunting,” Leo said, openly rubbing his hands together. “Hunting in…the country? Another country? I happen to know the duke has extensive property in Scotland.”
Elizabeth said nothing, but her dark eyes were full of chagrin.
Julian’s focus was more intense than any he’d experienced in the ten years since he’d begun to resurrect the earldom. He wanted to demand answers, to shake Rebecca until she told him about the stolen diamond called the Scandalous Lady, and how she’d come to wear it to a ball.
“You have to let us leave,” Rebecca said.
