A Scandalous Portrait: Rose Room Rogues ~ Book One

by Hutton, Callie

  Blast the man.

  The carriage ride was short, and her stomach was in knots by the time they arrived. Peters had the door opened before she reached the top step. “I am sorry, my lady, but his lordship is out for the evening.”

  “Oh.” Her sense of excitement crumbled. “Did he say where he was going, or when he would return?”

  “I believe he was visiting his brothers at The Rose Room. If you would like to come in and wait, I can have tea sent in.”

  She glided past Peters and entered the drawing room. “Yes, that would be good.” She began to slide her gloves off when she called, “Peters.”

  “Yes, my lady.” He hadn’t gone far.

  “No need for tea. I will be leaving.”

  His shoulders slumped. “Oh, my lady. I believe his lordship really wanted to speak with you.”

  She grinned and headed back to the door. “And that is precisely what he is going to do.” She sailed past him, down the steps, and back to her carriage. “The Rose Room, please, John.”

  Like most women of her station, she had always wondered what the inside of the most exclusive and popular gaming hell was like. The business kept a low profile since gambling was illegal, but because most of the people who made the laws and could enforce the law visited on a regular basis, the Rose brothers were seldom bothered by raids.

  Once they rolled up to the front door, she decided going around back might be a better idea. Hunt had told her more than once that the only women who patronized the club were mistresses and the demimonde. She still planned to go inside to see him, but she didn’t want to flaunt herself by using the front door. After all, she was here to make up with her husband, not antagonize him.

  The man at the back door admitted her when she identified herself. He gave her directions on how to reach the business offices which were where she planned to start her search for Hunt.

  Driscoll sat at his desk, hovering over a book of numbers. There was no sign of either Dante or Hunt.

  “Is Hunt here, Driscoll?”

  The man jumped, apparently so enamored of his numbers that he hadn’t heard her enter. “Oh, Diana, you startled me.” He frowned. “What are you doing here? Women aren’t allowed. At least not decent women.”

  “I’m looking for Hunt. His butler thought he was here.”

  “He was a bit ago.” He looked around as if he expected his brother to pop up from behind one of the desks. “I guess he went downstairs.”

  She tapped her foot. “I need to speak with him. Can you go downstairs and fetch him?”

  Just then Dante entered the office. “What are you doing here, Diana?”

  She sighed. “I came to see Hunt. Has he left?”

  “Just a few minutes ago. I believe he was headed home.”

  An ache was beginning at the back of her head. As long as she’d come this far, she might as well finish her mission. “Fine. I will go to his house, thank you, Dante.”

  “I can escort you to your carriage.”

  She waved him off. “That’s not necessary. I can find my way.”

  Once she reached the bottom step, she stopped and decided to peek into the gaming room. There was no point in coming this far and not assuaging her curiosity.

  She approached the wooden door with a glass panel in the top and glanced through.

  The room was amazing. Tables held men playing various card games. A bar lined one wall with several men leaning against it, drinking and observing the crowd. There were a few women, and obviously from their mode of dress and painted faces, not the respectable women of London. She smiled at being given the chance to see this.

  On the other wall there was some sort of spinning wheel that men were shouting over, and a large table was surrounded by clients throwing dice and groaning.

  She glanced to the east side of the building where three men sat at a table with another man standing in front of them dealing cards. Her eyes drifted up, she blinked a few times, then sucked in a deep breath.

  It was not possible, and she was quite certain her eyes deceived her. Licking her dry lips, she pushed the door open and walked into the room.

  One of the men who was obviously an employee came up to her. “I am sorry, my lady, you are not permitted on the gaming floor.”

  She pushed him aside and continued into the room. The blood pounded so hard in her head sounds grew dim and black dots danced in her eyes. She got as far as the wall and looked up.

  With a soft sigh, Diana’s eyes rolled to the back of her head, and she slid towards the floor.

  22

  Hunt ran his fingers through his hair for probably the hundredth time as he continued to pace in his library. A half empty brandy bottle sat on his desk, but he’d had enough to calm him down, but not to forget.

  The damn portrait was hanging in The Rose Room!

  Every time that thought entered his brain, he felt the need to punch the wall, or perhaps his brother. He again went over his conversation with Dante after discovering the painting.

  He’d flown up the stairs, slammed into the office, and grabbed Dante by his cravat, lifting him off the chair. “Why the devil is that painting hanging on the wall downstairs?”

  Driscoll was even surprised enough to look up from his work. “What the hell, Hunt. What’s going on?”

  He shook Dante and let him go, dropping him back into his chair. “You took that painting from my house.”

  His brother straightened his cravat. “I did you a favor.”

  Hunt fisted his hands on his hips. “What favor?”

  Obviously, the look on Hunt’s face disturbed his usually devil-may-care brother because he leaned back. “You’re married now. You don’t need that kind of painting in your house. If your wife found it, she would probably shoot you.” He snapped his fingers. “Ah, I’ll bet she did see it and that’s why you’re so out of sorts.”

  “Keep my wife out of this.” God, just mentioning Diana brought sweat to his brow. “Anyway, take it down, I’m taking it home.”

  “I don’t think that’s a good business move, brother,” Driscoll said, pushing his glasses farther up on his nose. “Ever since that portrait was hung, we’ve had more crowds than usual. Word has spread, and everyone assumes the young lady is of the demimonde, and they are trying to guess who she is. I believe there is even a betting page.”

  Hunt felt as though he was punched in the stomach. His wife, the woman he loved more than anything in the world, was on display for the entire ton to ogle. The only thing keeping him from howling like a mad dog was the fact that Mallory got it wrong and that was not truly his wife’s beautiful body on display.

  “Do you have some particular interest in the woman, Hunt?” Dante asked. “Is she your former mistress?” He looked over at Driscoll. “All the more reason to have it out of your house.”

  Dear God, how to get out of this mess without letting them know it was his innocent wife who had been duped into that scandalous portrait? If he didn’t calm down, his very smart brothers might go in a direction he had no intention of letting them wander. “No. She is not one of my mistresses.”

  “Who is she? If you give us a name, we can encourage even more bets,” Dante said.

  Hunt leaned toward his brother. “I want it taken down. Now.”

  Dante and Driscoll glanced at each other, and Hunt was not happy with the puzzled look they shared. He needed to back off and give himself time to deal with this. “Very well.” He brushed the sleeves of his jacket. “I will leave now, but this is not over.” He pointed his finger at Dante. “Don’t ever take anything from my house again without my permission. I should call the magistrate and have you locked up.”

  With those words, he left the office, slamming the door hard enough that something fell from the wall and landed on the floor.

  Now he lived in fear that somehow—he had no idea how—Diana would find out about this. He was certain that would be the end of their marriage. Would she even believe him if he told her he had no
thing to do with where the painting rested now?

  He walked to the brandy bottle and was pouring another when Dante came striding into the library. “Hunt, you have to come to the club. Diana just passed out.”

  Could this night get any worse? “What was Diana doing in the club?”

  “Looking for you, but I told her you had gone home. She was headed out of the club when she collapsed.”

  He rubbed his hand over his face. Diana had gone to the club. There was only one reason why she would faint.

  Hunt returned the bottle to the table and headed past Dante. It would be faster on his horse, but he couldn’t sling Diana over his shoulder and ride her home through the streets of London like some pirate carrying his bounty. “Did you come in a carriage?” he asked Dante as he raced past a confused Peters.

  “Yes. It’s out front.”

  They climbed in after Hunt shouted at the driver to take whatever route would get them to the club fastest.

  Once they settled in, Hunt glared at Dante. “Tell me what happened.”

  Dante shrugged. “Once I told her you had gone home, I offered to escort her to her carriage, but she declined—”

  “—That was your second mistake,” Hunt growled.

  Apparently his brother did not have to wonder about his first mistake since a blush covered his face. “I left the office a couple of minutes later to see her opening the door to the gaming room. I tried to catch her as she wandered off, but people kept getting in my way. She walked almost the entire length of the room when she suddenly slid to the floor.”

  From what Dante had just told him, it didn’t sound as though he noticed Diana looking up at the painting before she fainted. There was no doubt in his mind that her collapse had everything to do with seeing it.

  Since there didn’t seem to be anything else to say, silence reigned in the carriage until they reached The Rose Room. Hunt jumped from the vehicle and hurried up the steps to the front door. A quick knock, and the door opened.

  “Where is my wife?” He asked Pomeroy, the guard at the door, as he pushed past him.

  “Upstairs in the office.”

  Hunt nodded and made his way through the club and upstairs to the offices. He opened the door to see Diana sitting upright, a crumpled handkerchief in her hand. She looked over at him and immediately flew across the room. Hunt fought the desire to duck, but instead of tossing something at his head, or walloping him on the jaw, she threw herself into his arms.

  * * *

  As much as Diana wanted to throttle the man, she was so glad to see him. It was obvious from the conversation she’d had with both Driscoll and Dante that they had no idea the painting hanging on the wall downstairs was her. The look on Hunt’s face, and the way he seemed to brace himself for a blow when he opened the door, told her he was not complicit.

  His eyes seemed to devour her. He rubbed his palms over her arms, concern written all over his face and demeanor. “Are you all right, Diana?”

  She shook her head. “Not at all. But I feel well enough to go home. I think we have a lot to talk about.”

  Dante eyed her up and down, then turned to Hunt. “I don’t think she harmed herself. Luckily I was close enough to catch her when she fainted, so she didn’t reach the floor.”

  “Thank you for that, Dante.” Hunt was unusually annoyed with his brother, but she was still reeling from the shock she’d received and pushed the thought aside.

  They said their goodbyes to Driscoll and Dante and left in silence. Hunt kept his arm wrapped around her waist, hugging her body close to his. She certainly needed the support, just the thought of her portrait hanging in The Rose Room made her knees weak.

  She looked around as they left the building. “Where is your carriage?”

  “I came in Dante’s carriage. I’ll send it back once we’re home.” He waved the driver forward.

  The vehicle rolled to a stop in front of them, and Diana leaned against the seat, feeling drained, like a rag doll. Although Hunt studied her carefully, he didn’t say a word, and she wondered if he was waiting for her to pull out a pistol and shoot him.

  “I might have planned a slow and horrible death for you when I first awoke from my faint, but given your attitude, it’s apparent to me you had nothing to do with my portrait gracing the walls of The Rose Room.”

  Hunt sucked in a breath. “Of course not! I was appalled when I saw it. In fact, I still owe my youngest brother a sound thrashing.”

  “Ah, so he is the scoundrel in this bad play?” She closed her eyes, hoping the headache that she’d awoken to would leave her. It was hard to think when in pain. “Why don’t you tell me how this all came about? I’m too tired to argue about it.”

  Hunt cleared his throat. “You left the portrait in my library. I had instructed Peters to take it somewhere far away and burn the damn thing and not return until it was in ashes.”

  She opened her eyes and glared at him. “Then he would see the painting.”

  He shook his head. “As noted before, your face is turned in such a way that unless you are standing right next to it in a very bright light, no one can tell it is you. I’m sure Peters thought it was a painting of a past paramour that I wanted to be rid of before you saw it.”

  “How did it get in The Rose Room?”

  “My idiot brother came to my house, for I don’t know what when I was out, saw the painting, assumed it was something I wanted to get rid of for the same reason I imagine Peters did, and decided to ‘save’ me, as he said, from you seeing it.”

  “So, instead, the male population of the ton got to see it.” She paused for a moment. “If you had only burned it like I asked. . .” She sighed and turned her head to look out at the darkness. “Why didn’t you demand they take it down?”

  “Because, once I began to make demands, Driscoll and Dante started to look at me strangely. I did not want them to figure out it was you.”

  She sucked in a deep breath. “Oh, God, no!”

  The carriage rolled to a stop in front of their townhouse. Hunt dismissed the driver back to The Rose Room and escorted Diana into the house.

  “Good evening, my lord, my lady.” Peters bowed as they entered.

  “Good evening Peters,” Diana said with a smile. “Will you please have tea and a light repast sent up to our bedchamber?” As they climbed the stairs, she said, “I have the beginnings of a headache, and tea and a little food oftentimes helps.”

  Once they were in Hunt’s bedchamber behind closed doors, Diana pulled off her gloves, dropped them onto the dressing table, and sat on the bed. “I had great plans to have you groveling at my feet, you know.”

  “I deserve it, sweetheart. The last thing I ever wanted to do was hurt you. And yes, you can trust me.” He walked to where she sat and took her hands, kneeling in front of her.

  She smirked. “Is this the grovel?”

  “Whatever you want from me to make it up to you, I will do.” He kissed her knuckles. “I don’t want to lose you, Diana. I love you and have probably always loved you.”

  Her brows rose. “You thought me a nuisance your whole life.”

  “No. I’ve been doing some serious thinking, and I realize the reason I kept pushing you away was because I was scared. A marriage to you will not be the calm, very boring one I had imagined all my life.”

  She shook her head with a slight laugh. “No, Hunt. No one has ever accused me of being boring.” She leaned in and kissed him gently on the lips. “I love you too, even though you are a cad.”

  He climbed up alongside her just as a tap on the door announced the arrival of their tea. Hunt hopped up and allowed Peters to enter with a tray. The butler placed the tea and small sandwiches on the table, bowed, and offered Hunt a wink.

  Hunt pulled Diana up from the bed. “Come, my love. Let’s eat and then go to bed. It’s been a long day.”

  Diana walked with him to the comfortable chair in front of the fire. “One thing as yet we have to decide on.”

&nbs
p; “What’s that?” Hunt said as he poured tea for them both.

  She stirred her tea and took a sip. “When are we going to break into The Rose Room and steal the portrait?”

  23

  Again, Hunt found himself dressed in all black to steal the same damn portrait. Only this time, like Melrose’s house, Diana would be right beside him. He had a feeling she insisted on coming along to assure herself that the blasted thing was burned.

  “These trousers are much too big.” Diana entered his bedchamber from the sitting room between their rooms, her hands clutching the gathered waistline. “I’ll need something to hold them up.”

  One look at her fine figure outlined by the trousers was enough for him to want to forget the plan and take her to bed. “I have a pair of braces you may use.” He walked to the dresser and pulled out a pair. “Here, try this.”

  She grinned and held them up, dangling from her fingers. “Um, what do I do with these?”

  Hunt took them from her hand. Who would have known he would have to act as valet for his wife? But then again, he played lady’s maid to her on their honeymoon. He quickly fastened them then placed his hands on her shoulders and studied her, his eyes eating up all her curves. “You will never pass for a man, if that is your intended ploy.”

  She shook her head. “No. I just don’t think a dress would be convenient attire for thievery.”

  It was close to four in the morning and, since The Rose Room closed at three, they were allowing time for the last of the gamers to leave and his brothers to indulge in their nightly wind-down brandies in the office. By the time he and Diana arrived, all should be quiet and empty.

  At least he would be able to enter the club using his key, instead of breaking into the place.

  Even though he expected no trouble, he stopped at the library first and took one of his pistols out of the case and tucked it into his pocket.