A Scandalous Portrait (The Rose Room Rogues 1)

“Have you seen her?” Dante asked, still viewing him with a puzzled expression.

Although he would love his brothers’ input on Diana’s situation, he promised to keep silent about it, so he merely shrugged. “Yes. Briefly at the Billingsley ballroom the other evening.”

“I heard she’s looking quite dazzling.” Dante winked.

Hunt’s jaw muscles tightened. “What is that supposed to mean?”

Driscoll’s jaw dropped as his brother looked up from his work and regarded Hunt with raised brows. “Blasted hell, brother, since when are you so touchy about Lady Trouble?”

“I am not touchy about Diana. And don’t call her Lady Trouble.” Damn, if he didn’t shut his mouth soon, his brothers would start a lot of speculation and asking questions which he didn’t nee

d right now with her predicament looming over his head.

Also, it was highly unusual for him to be touchy about the girl. She’d been a thorn in his side for years, as well his brothers knew. Normally, he treated her with reserve, or at the very least, provided her with a wide berth.

Now the situation had shifted. He hated to admit it but, ever since their conversation, he’d thought about nothing except how she would look in the nude. Did she have pale or dusky rose, or deep brown nipples? Was the silk hair that covered her mound the same lovely shade as the hair on her head?

When he realized his body was beginning to react to his thoughts, he quickly switched the subject before his brothers noticed. “Didn’t you say you were about to go back to work, Dante?”

“Yes. I did say that.” Dante cast another bemused look at his brother and left the room.

Hunt pulled out a chair and sat, facing Driscoll. “How are we doing? It looks like a good crowd down there on the gaming floor.”

His brother laid his pencil on the desk and leaned back. “Very good. We had to cut off young Wentworth last night. He is too far in debt and rumors abound that he has been selling just about everything at his estate not entailed.”

Hunt shook his head. “What a fool. All that will get him is heavily into the market for a rich bride.”

Driscoll smirked. “No doubt. Better keep him away from Diana.”

Hunt stiffened. “What does that mean?”

Driscoll stared at him. “Damn, brother, you are definitely out of sorts when it comes to Lady Tr—”

“Don’t. Say. It.”

Driscoll raised his hands, palms up, in surrender. “Personally, I prefer not to delve into whatever it is that’s bothering you, big brother.”

“There is nothing bothering me.”

Liar.

“As you say. Are you here merely to keep me from my work, or do you have a purpose?” Driscoll tapped his pencil on his desk.

“No purpose. Just stopped in to have a chat with my brothers, but apparently my timing was off.” Hunt headed to the door.

“Either your timing or your attitude.”

Hunt saluted him with a rude gesture and left the room to the sound of Driscoll’s laughter. He hurried down the stairs and decided a late-night drink at one of his clubs was in order.

White’s was bursting at the seams which told Hunt most of the evening’s balls, soirees and musicales had ended. Before visiting his brothers, he’d spent some time at the Manning come-out ball for their youngest daughter, but when he didn’t find Diana there, he left after an hour.

Why it mattered to him that she wasn’t there annoyed him since he’d gone to dozens of affairs in the time she was hiding in Italy and didn’t miss her at all. Damn that portrait and the image he could not get out of his mind.

“Hunt!”

Hunt turned toward a small group of gentlemen, Lord Allenby waving at him. After instructing one of the footmen to bring him a drink, Hunt wandered in the direction of the group.

“I hear Lady Diana Pemberton has returned from Italy.” Stephen Blackmoor, a long-time acquaintance since Eton, nodded at Hunt as he took a seat across from Allenby.