To Love a Wicked Scoundrel by Anabelle Bryant

Author:Anabelle Bryant [Bryant, Anabelle]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
ISBN: 9781472095213
Publisher: Carina
Published: 2014-04-08T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter Thirteen

Constantine swallowed the last of his brandy as Brooks entered the study. The valet carried correspondence and an appointment book, his discerning gaze as sharp as his pencil. Business needed to be conducted regardless of the late hour of half past three. Brooks indulged Con’s unorthodox schedule and he, in turn, overlooked his valet’s frequent impudence. In truth, he enjoyed Brooks’ cocky audacity, but he would suffer a thousand deaths before he’d admit it to the man.

‘Did you find the letter I left for you from the curator of The National Gallery?’ Brooks removed Con’s empty glass and gave his attention to the desktop. He wiped a nonexistent water ring with his handkerchief, then picked up the appointment book and scanned the page.

‘I did. And my patience grows shorter. The curator claims the artwork arrived anonymously and is to be considered a donation. He refuses to release the pieces unless he discusses the matter with the owner. It is possible my visit and subsequent questions evoked his nervous nature into automatic defence, yet the whole bloody mess leaves my hands tied unless I reveal myself as the artist.’

‘Would an imposter suffice?’

The servant straightened his shoulders as if he offered his services and the action provoked Con to chuckle. He had no idea what type of trouble Brooks dabbled in during his first lifetime, but he certainly would not encourage him to revisit the past.

‘No, I am afraid that will not resolve the issue. As long as the paintings are safe, I see no urgency to settle the matter until I decipher the best way to proceed. In the meantime, I am considering a change of scenery.’

It would be difficult to leave London, to leave Isabelle, but he did not plan to be gone long. Other issues demanded his attention and he would somehow make her aware. Were she not an innocent, he could have taken her along for the trip. A smile turned his mouth as his thoughts clouded with memories of the sleek softness of her beautiful body, her skin as delicate and fragrant as a newly opened rose.

If he didn’t distract himself with purpose, the same ardent condition would plague him whenever Isabelle invaded his thoughts. And that was too damned often.

‘Milord?’ Brooks’ voice obliterated the fantasy.

‘Send word ahead to alert the staff.’

‘The townhouse in Paris?’ The servant began to write in his book.

‘No. Paris is more crowded than London at this time of year.’

‘Your estate in Hampshire then?’ The valet crossed out a line with vigour.

‘No, the vineyards there are thriving.’

‘Then I presume we speak of Highborough House?’ Brooks held his pencil motionless.

‘Yes, a visit is long overdue. Although I won’t be hanging artwork, will I?’ He muttered, exasperated with the recent turn of events. ‘I need to check on the vineyard and I am sure Gillie wonders at my absence.’

‘Very good then. I will make all the necessary arrangements and notify the staff.’

‘Thank you.’ A reluctant smile curled Con’s lips as he continued to think aloud.

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