Where Have All the Scoundrels Gone?

by Donna Cummings

  "Now do not move," she said with mock sternness, her eyes twinkling with mischief. "Or you shall soon learn what an unyielding taskmaster I can be. Well, until I have need of your advanced skills to finish this painting. Then I shall throw myself at your mercy."

  "Now I shall stand here and ponder which I wish to see more, the taskmaster or the supplicant."

  She returned to her position behind the easel, her expression filled with delight. She picked up the brush, glanced at him, and then beamed while she filled the brush with paint.

  If William had thought he had lost his heart before now, he had been wrong. Completely mistaken. He should do a self-portrait, to memorialize this moment. It would show him on bended knee in front of Honora, his heart in outstretched hands, unabashedly asking for hers in return.

  Now all he had to do was ensure it was not merely a figment of his fevered imagination, or simply a depiction in oils and canvas. He needed, more than anything, to bring this particular portrait to life.

  Chapter 22

  How had time gone by so quickly? A fortnight was already past, and after tonight's ball, everyone would be departing the next morning. Everyone, including William, and excluding her.

  Honora tried to hold her sadness at bay, but it proved even more difficult than sketching noses. She stood at the edge of the ballroom, where everyone had been asked to gather, since William had insisted he wanted to unveil his masterpiece before the dancing started.

  She had no idea what the masterpiece might be. The only painting she knew for certain he had completed had been a portrait of her. It was not risqué, thankfully, since he had depicted only her face. She had teased him about it when she had seen the final result, especially since he had insisted she pose the entire time while barely clothed.

  The man was definitely a scoundrel.

  As well as a genius. He had managed to capture the unabashed desire in her expression, along with a playful brazenness only he could elicit from her. Honora had insisted the portrait was for him, and no one else, and he had solemnly agreed to that condition. There was no reason to believe he would share such a painting with everyone present. He understood it would prove ruinous for her if he did.

  Honora turned her gaze to the easel draped with a white cloth, and a very happy William standing next to it. Yes, her fears were indeed baseless. He had been painting constantly of late, and she was grateful for her part in luring his muse out of hiding. Who knew what subjects consumed him in the hours they were separated? It was more likely he had finished the still life of yellow roses he had abandoned some time ago.

  If not, a swoon was always a good diversion...

  Gemma and Constance scurried over, standing on either side of Honora.

  "I cannot wait to see what he has painted," Gemma said. "Miles told me it has been ages since he has completed anything, so this is quite momentous. I wonder what it might be."

  She gave Honora a pointed look, but Honora merely shrugged, since she had no way of knowing what might be in store.

  "Richard has tried for the past several hours to get a peak," Constance said, "but William has threatened him with something from their past. I must have him tell me what it is so I can use it in the future."

  They all chuckled. In the next instant, William cleared his throat to get everyone's attention. The whispered murmurs finally died down, even though everyone was clearly dying of curiosity. There were several flirtatious smiles from the debutantes gazing up at William. Honora did her best to ignore those.

  "I am overjoyed to share this painting with you," William began. "It may sound bold on my part, but I consider it a masterpiece. One that almost never saw the light of day."

  "Enough of your speechifying," Richard called in a teasing voice from the crowd. "Show us this creation."

  "He does like to keep his work hidden," Miles added. For some reason, it caused Richard to erupt in a coughing fit. Constance's eyes widened as if she had just solved an important puzzle.

  "Very well," William said. He reached for the cloth obscuring the painting, but at that moment, he turned, his eyes searching for Honora. Their gazes locked. Honora's heart thudded with anticipation, yet she trusted him implicitly. He had vowed he would take care of her. He nodded his head once, and smiled, reminding her of that promise.

  William swept the covering aside with a flourish, and everyone gasped. To Honora's amazement, it was not a vase of yellow roses, nor was it the intimate portrait he had done of her.

  No, it was much worse. It was the painting she had done of William, in all his half-naked glory.

  Every young woman leaned forward to examine it, no doubt comparing him to the sight of his muscled back on display, and the skin-tight breeches...

  "Rather clever how you have painted yourself," Richard drawled. "How did you accomplish it? With a mirror?"

  This time it was Honora who coughed. Gemma patted her gently on the back, while Constance gave her a concerned look and then dug in her reticule, presumably for a soothing drop. Hopefully she had a large portion of smelling salts available too.

  William's eyes met hers once more, and she knew from his stricken expression he was not the one who had switched the paintings.

  He tried to quickly cover it with the drapery, but the Dowager had made her way to the front of the room and halted him with a hand on his arm.

  "Of course he did not paint himself," she said in a chiding voice. "But I am curious. Who is this artist?" She leaned closer to the painting and studied the corner with her lorgnette. For a brief, uncharitable moment, Honora hoped the Dowager would be struck blind, at least long enough for her to flee. "Well, there is our answer. It appears they have signed it with HB. The only one with those initials in their name—"

  There was another round of gasps, and then the entire crowd turned en masse to gape at Honora. She would have gladly escaped the attention by melting into the carpet except Gemma and Constance both kept a reassuring grip on her arms. After all her efforts to remain invisible, she had stumbled into the worst possible scenario, one she would have never anticipated.

  The Dowager stood and trained her lorgnette on Honora. "There is obviously more to you than meets the eye. We shall have to effect a change in our current arrangement."

  Honora's stomach sank. Just as she had feared. She inhaled a deep breath, drawing courage for what was to happen next.

  "Auntie," William attempted. "There is no need."

  The Dowager waved him away impatiently. "It is quite obvious that Honora has been spending her time," she studied the painting in a little more detail, "improving her painting skills. You have a great deal of talent, my girl, with a better future ahead of you than serving as my companion."

  Honora had steeled herself for a rebuke, and a dismissal without a reference. When the words finally sank in, relief weakened her knees. Once more she was grateful for her newfound friends' support.

  William smiled at her, overflowing with happiness, but before he could make his way to her, the Dowager rapped him on the shoulder with her ever-present fan.

  "And as for you, young man. Your own artistic talents have always been impressive, but now I wonder if you should not also consider instructing others. In your own studio, of course, and with Honora at your side." Her lips lifted in a wry smile. "Clearly you both flourish when you are together."

  William grinned and then leaned in to whisper in his aunt's ear. She cackled and gave him another rap with her fan.

  "You scoundrel. I always thought you were the innocent one of the bunch. I shall have to reconsider that. Now go ahead and say what you need to say."

  Honora's heart fluttered. It began pounding incessantly when he began speaking, his eyes shining with an emotion that could not be mistaken.

  "I am accustomed to standing on the other side of the artist's easel, and could not understand why it was not providing the joy it had always done previously. Honora asked me to give her instruction on the finer points of painting. It gave me the chan
ce to see how much I had been missing, by standing back, observing the world around me. Her unbridled joy in creating this portrait gave me a new perspective, a much-needed one. It also ensured I have lost my heart to her forever."

  There were several heartfelt sighs in the crowd, and this time the gazes turned on Honora were envious ones. William stepped towards her, and the crowd parted to give him a chance to approach. Gemma and Constance faded away too. Honora felt even more exposed than when he had unveiled the painting she had made of him. This time, though, it did not matter.

  He had revealed himself, too. Something he had never done, except privately with her. This evening, however, he had chosen to tell everyone present how he felt about her. She would treasure his public declaration for the rest of her born days.

  Finally, after what seemed a lifetime, he was standing in front of her. He lifted her hand to his lips, and after a tender kiss, he pulled her into his embrace.

  She laughed and attempted to protest by pushing half-heartedly at his chest, but he merely grinned.

  "We are already a complete scandal," he said.

  "Only because you insisted on displaying your half-naked portrait."

  "But I did not." William laughed and whispered in her ear, "Besides, the scandal is that you painted it."

  "I might have weathered it by saying I did it completely from imagination."

  "Even more scandalous, admitting that you were pondering my half-naked state."

  Honora leaned back so she could see into his eyes. The unabashed hopefulness nearly did her in. "You know you shall always be my favorite masterpiece."

  Before he could answer, the Dowager was standing next to them, her lorgnette raised to her eyes. "I still cannot believe I was unaware of all that was going on right under my nose."

  Richard appeared out of nowhere, holding Constance close. "I would say you had been caught napping, Auntie. Just look at all that has happened at your matchmaking party."

  Miles joined them as well, with Gemma at his side. "That is the trouble with scoundrels. You never can know for certain what they might do."

  The Dowager harrumphed as she studied each one of her nephews. She finally lowered the lorgnette. "I suppose you are correct. It makes for interesting entertainment. Well, there is no reason we should not commence this ball."

  She clucked her tongue and headed off towards the orchestra, presumably to get them started with the music for the first set.

  Gemma turned to look at William. "While I quite enjoyed this masterpiece—" She laughed at Miles's ahem. "It is clear there was meant to be another one displayed."

  "I have no idea how they were switched," William said. "Though it did not stop me from telling the Dowager that Richard was the likely culprit."

  "I wish I could take credit," Richard said, grinning, "for it was quite clever. But I cannot."

  Miles laughed. "It is only fair to blame you, since you remain blameless for your previous crime."

  "I aim to keep it that way."

  In the next instant, the orchestra began to play, and to no one's surprise, it was a waltz.

  "The Dowager is such a romantic," Miles said, leading Gemma to the center of the dance floor.

  "She always has been," Richard added. He clasped Constance closer and followed his cousin.

  William already had his arms around Honora, so he kept them right where they were, and began to move them about the ballroom. She could see his cousins happily dancing with the women they adored, but they could not capture her attention like William did.

  "I wonder if we shall ever know who switched the paintings. It could have been a disaster."

  He pressed a kiss to her temple. "I should probably be grateful for your inability to paint noses. The Dowager would have most likely fainted dead away if my portrait depicted the other side."

  "I plan to do that one next. Though perhaps I shall omit your head entirely." At his mock pout, she added, "Which is such a shame, for I am exceedingly fond of it. Perhaps you shall have to instruct me on the fine art of noses one day."

  "I think that is an excellent plan. Fortunately, we shall have plenty of time to devote to that."

  She had no chance to reply, for William whisked her away from the dance floor and headed towards the terrace. They were the object of everyone's attention, but she did not care anymore. William had liberated her in so many ways. She was not about to retreat to her previous persona now.

  Even better, she had liberated William. He stopped and pressed a passionate kiss in her palm, causing her heart to pound with such fierceness, it made her lightheaded.

  His eyes lit up. "I think it is time we retire to the studio."

  "Surely you do not wish to paint right now."

  Perhaps her voice sounded petulant, or disbelieving, for he bestowed a grin that was the very portrait of wickedness and pleasure and happiness.

  "Let us see what the muse inspires."

  Epilogue

  The Dowager watched the couples dancing, the ballroom filled with at least three happy pairings, and hopefully more if the disappointed debutantes made use of the young men still present.

  She chuckled to herself. Those scapegrace nephews, thinking she was unaware of their tricks. She always knew what they were about, and it had been her greatest joy in life having them play their pranks. They were completely unaware how she had bested them, at long last.

  No need to spoil their fun, however. Just as she hadn't when they tried to make her believe she was shrinking, or losing her eyesight.

  She could not keep her satisfied smile at bay. It had been obvious to her from the beginning the women they needed, the ones who would make them fall head over ears, as much as they resisted it. The bevy of debutantes had been a misdirection designed to ensure they looked elsewhere, all while making them believe they were thwarting her matchmaking schemes.

  How else would Miles pay attention to Gemma? She was indeed the perfect woman for him, though he would never have realized it until Gemma had been "hired" as a matchmaker. Neither of them suspected the Dowager had played any part in their romance. They would traipse around the world in search of dusty relics, never knowing she had deliberately brought them together.

  And Richard, such a rake, flirting mercilessly with the hopeful misses surrounding him. Constance was the only one ever likely to catch his attention, or his heart. It had been easy enough persuading one of the debutantes to feign an illness so there would be a need for a doctor, and after that, well, Richard had succumbed just as she had expected.

  William needed Honora more than he knew, and the Dowager had been overjoyed to give them an hour each day to lose their hearts to each other. The nap had been yet another ruse. When had she ever needed a restorative sleep during the middle of the afternoon? Switching the paintings had required an accomplice, but fortunately she had found another of the debutantes who was up to the task. She might prove to be a suitable replacement companion, too, now that Honora was moving on.

  She sighed with contentment. Yes, Miles, Richard, and William were the most wonderful nephews an aunt could ever want. She was happy that she had helped them find the women who were bound to make their lives merry and overflowing with love and happiness.

  She was already looking forward to that day when they would bring their children round. Another generation of rascals to torment her with their tricks and pranks. Another opportunity to keep her house filled with mischief and hijinks and endless laughter.

  All thanks to these scoundrels she loved so fiercely.

  The End

  About the Author

  I have worked as an attorney, winery tasting room manager, and retail business owner, but nothing beats the thrill of writing humorously-ever-after romances.

  I reside in New England, although I fantasize about spending the rest of my days in a tropical locale, wearing flip flops year-round, or in Regency London, scandalizing the ton.

  I can usually be found on Twitter, chatting about writing, and
coffee, or on Facebook, chatting about coffee, and writing.

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  Available Regency Romance

  Truly, My Love (in the Fool for Love Valentine anthology)

  Lord Misrule (in the A Very Wicked Christmas anthology)

  Lord Rakehell's Love (Book 1 of The Curse of True Love series)

  Lord Wastrel (Book 2 of The Curse of True Love series)

  Falling for His Duchess (Book 3 of The Curse of True Love series)

  Lord Midnight

  Rogues Gallery (boxed set containing Lord Midnight, Lord Rakehell's Love, and Lord Wastrel)

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  The Debutante's Wager (Book 4 of The Curse of True Love series)

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