Hunt waited as Diana seemed to wrestle with something. He watched her, knowing she’d come this far, so whatever she had to tell him would eventually come out.
“At first I attempted to dismiss him, but he insisted he had the portrait in his carriage, and he wanted very much to bring it inside for me to see.” She wiped beads of perspiration from her upper lip.
When she swallowed several times, he said, “Go on, sweetheart, just tell me.”
“Thank goodness the portrait was covered in a sheet when he came back into the drawing room. He leaned it up against a chair and, once he had my complete attention, he whipped the sheet away.”
All the blood left her face. and Hunt put his arm around her waist, certain he was going to have to catch her since she appeared ready to swoon.
“And?”
“It was my portrait, exactly as he painted it, but—” She chewed her lip until he was afraid he’d see blood. Then she blurted out. “I was naked!”
Then she covered her face and burst into tears.
J. D. Mallory is a dead man.
4
Hunt wrapped his arms around Diana as she sobbed against his chest. He was still having a hard time understanding exactly what happened and what else occurred after Mallory showed her the portrait.
It was the sort of thing, however, that Diana had to tell in her own way and in her own time. While he waited for her to compose herself and continue with the story, he planned several ways to kill Mallory. Hopefully the most painful way possible.
She accepted the handkerchief he held out to her and leaned back, wiping her cheeks and eyes. “Thank you.”
Diana seeming somewhat calmer, he released her, and she sat back. Hunt took her hand again. “Tell me the rest.”
Shuddering to take a deep breath, she fisted the handkerchief in her hands and looked at her lap. “I asked him how he got the portrait from my home, and he said he didn’t, that this one was a duplicate he made when he painted the first one.
“Then he told me he had plans to sell the wicked portrait to a very wealthy client who wanted it but, considering my family’s status, he would reconsider and sell it to me instead.”
Hunt’s blood continued to boil at the man’s avarice and downright evilness. “How very considerate. And for a hefty price, I’m sure.”
“Yes. He wants twenty thousand pounds.”
Hunt almost fell off the stone bench. “Twenty thousand pounds! That’s outrageous.”
“Indeed.” She offered him a slight smile. “That sum would also drain my accounts. For all intents and purposes, I would be left almost penniless.”
Hunt’s jaw worked as he considered the situation. To think with clarity, he had to push aside the tempting idea of racing to Mallory’s gallery and pummeling the man. Even though, given what she’d just told him, it was apparent why she’d asked him to steal the portrait, he still wasn’t sure that was the best solution.
“Can you not notify the police? The man is blackmailing you, and I am sure there is a crime he has already committed by painting a second portrait without your permission.”
She shook her head vehemently, her eyes wide. “I cannot let anyone know about this. Word will leak, and I will be disgraced.” She stood again and paced. “This is not some girlish caper I can recover from by escaping to Italy. With my reputation for the little bit of trouble I’ve already been in,” she looked in his direction, and he quickly removed the smile from his face, “everyone will believe I actually posed for the portrait. You know how the ton is. Given the choice between believing the truth or considering what causes the most gossip, scandal wins every time.”
“What if I went to the studio and talked to the man?” He had no intention of ‘talking’ with anything other than his fists. Once the problem was solved to Diana’s satisfaction, Hunt still planned to beat the hell out of the cad.
“No. If he thinks there might be a chance that I won’t pay him, or if I send someone on my behalf, he’s already said he would turn the portrait over to the interested buyer.” She threw her hands out. “And who knows what the buyer would do with the portrait?”
This was indeed a muddle. As she clearly stated, this was no minor infraction of a young girl pushing at society’s strictures. Her life would be ruined, and her only recourse would be sinking to the level of the demimonde.
He would never allow that; despite all her ‘adventures’ Diana was a well-bred, innocent young lady.
Diana sat next to him and gripped his hands. “You must promise me that you won’t tell anyone about this. Not even your brothers. No one. Promise me, Hunt.”
He hesitated for a second. He’d just been considering asking his brothers for advice since he still didn’t care for the idea of breaking into a studio and stealing something. “I promise.”
She wiped her nose. “Now will you agree to steal the portrait?”