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.”