A Rogue to Remember by Emily Sullivan

Author:Emily Sullivan
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Grand Central Publishing
Published: 2021-03-09T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Thirteen

After Alec closed the bedroom door behind him, Lottie paced back and forth, waiting for her heart to stop skittering. She should have insisted on staying with him, or at least asked who that handsome, dark-haired man was, but she was still reeling from their exchange outside his door. Alec had been holding himself back, straining against some unseen force, but for one brief moment his carefully controlled facade had fallen away again.

Lottie let out a sigh as she stripped off her gloves and removed her hat. She tossed them onto the bed and sat down on the edge. It didn’t appear that Alec spent much time here, as the room was mostly empty. Aside from the bed, there was a small, battered wardrobe, and tucked away in a corner was a piece of furniture shrouded in a dust cover. Based on the dimensions, it was probably a desk. Like the rest of the flat, the room had high ceilings and tall windows. The afternoon sunlight saved the room from looking too dreary. It must have been lovely once, but now the walls were sun bleached, the plaster was chipped, and the tiled floor was scuffed and worn. Why on earth would Alec wish to own this place? She had caught a glimpse of the Grand Canal through the parlor window, but the view didn’t seem a fair trade for living in a run-down old palazzo.

When her heartbeat had returned to normal, she rose from the bed and pressed her ear against the door. All she could hear was muffled voices. The man must be another agent. And yet Alec had looked terribly put out by his appearance. She gave up on listening and walked over to the covered piece of furniture. A swipe of her finger revealed an impressive layer of dust. Whatever was under there hadn’t seen light in ages. Lottie lifted up a corner and peeked underneath. Her suspicions had been correct. It was a desk. A rather beautiful one.

She glanced cautiously at the door again, then gave herself a shake. It was only a piece of furniture, for heaven’s sake. Not Pandora’s box. Lottie carefully pulled the cover off so as not to release a cloud of dust and revealed a beautiful, black, lacquered writing desk with an elegant gold chinoiserie design painted over the surface. She ran her fingers over the smooth, cool edge. The fine heirloom seemed entirely out of place compared to the rest of the unremarkable furniture. The desk’s surface was empty, but the lone drawer held two small picture frames of a man and a woman.

One was a pencil sketch of Edward Gresham similar to the image that had been used in his collected works; Lottie picked it up to have a closer look. This must have been a sketch the artist composed during one of the sessions for the formal portrait. Edward Gresham had been a handsome devil, and Alec shared his father’s dark hair, strong nose, and powerful jaw.

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