Page 19 of Wickeds Scandal
Caro rippedthe cloak from the butler’s hands, wrapping the wool around her half-dressedform.
“You willregret this, Cam. I am not some common whore.”
“No, you arenot,” he scoffed, “a common whore has better manners.” Sutton filled thebrandy glass from the sideboard and walked from the room just as Caro began toscream.
SEVEN
“My dear, Miss Dunforth, how absolutely charming you lookthis evening.” Mr. Runyon greeted Alexandra, bending over to brush a kissupon her knuckles.
Alexandra smiled back. “The peoniesyou sent yesterday were lovely and so thoughtful.”
“Did you enjoy the book on Romanhistory?”
Alexandra nodded with enthusiasm. “Ofcourse.” She enjoyed everything Mr. Runyon chose for her. Over the lasttwo weeks, some small token from Mr. Runyon arrived at her uncle’s nearly everyday. Flowers, books, even a charming print of an etching of theParthenon, found their way into her hands. Mr. Runyon appeared just asoften, coming for tea and once, escorting her to a play at the RoyalTheater. While she did not desire marriage to him, her false courtship byMr. Runyon certainly bore benefits. Helmsby Abbey was safe, at leasttemporarily, and her uncle brought her no other suitors. “The book wasfascinating. I fear I read it in one evening!”
“Your mind is as inquisitive as myown. Perhaps we are destined to be together.” His hand cupped herelbow as he guided her down the hall.
Alexandra ignored the sudden stab ofguilt.
“How kind of you to invite my uncle andme for dinner.” Alexandra quickly changed the subject. She used thisgentle, intelligent man for her own ends and it did not sit well withher. Alexandra focused her attention on the beautifully decoratedentryway.
Art niches were set in the walls atvarious intervals and each seemed to contain a tiny statue or urn of somesort. A vase of white roses, extremely rare this time of year, sat on anexpensive looking table to her right.
Alexandra turned her head and a curlspilled free. Her coiffure needed attention before they dined or it wouldlikely fall down during the soup course.
“Mr. Runyon? Is there an area whereI can see to my hair?” Her hand ran up to a group of curls threatening tobreak free of the carefully placed pins.
His gaze flickered over her hair inappreciation. “I would adore your hair down, Miss Dunforth. But Isuppose you must repair it.” He said the last regretfully and squeezedher elbow. “Down the hall is a small sitting room, possessed of a largemirror with which you can make your adjustments. A ewer and wash basinare also on hand, should you need them.”
What a thoughtful man! Alexandramade her way down the hall to the room Mr. Runyon indicated. She could hear heruncle muttering to Mr. Runyon about requiring drink before dinner. Heruncle cared nothing for the nuances of conversation, his only concern seemed tobe gluttony. She shook her head and opened a door to her right.
This was no sitting room. Heavy,dark walnut furniture dominated the room. Paintings, the colors dark andmuted, hung from the paneled walls. Her sense of direction, alwaysquestionable, led her to the wrong room. Curious, Alexandra steppedcloser. Mr. Runyon’s taste, based on what she saw in the entryway, wasexquisite. She thought perhaps she ventured into his private collection.
Her eyes attempted to adjust to the dimlight as she stepped up to the first painting, a large landscape framed ingilt. Upon closer inspection, she could make forms and shapes. A satyrand several nymphs lay on a field of red poppies. Naked bodies writhedtogether making it difficult to actually decipher what belonged to whom. Alexandrablinked. The scene before her was erotic, but also obscene. The satyr held awhip in one hand. Her gaze ran to the other paintings in the room.All were filled with even darker depictions of the sex act. She shouldnot be here. She spun around to leave, fear pricking her spine.
“There you are, Miss Dunforth. Youseem to have no sense of direction. This room was not the one I intendedyou to find, but find it you did. Is the art to your taste?” The silkentones greeted her exit. Mr. Runyon stood directly in front ofher. He stared at her bodice in an assessing manner.
Startled, Alexandra took a step back. “Ifear I chose the wrong door.”
Mr. Runyon hovered over her like avulture.
Unease rippled through her. Did heintentionally send her to this room?
Fingers touched her lightly on her arm.
Alexandra jumped.
“Miss Dunforth,? I see thepaintings in this room have left you a bit unsettled. Your hair canwait. Let us have a sherry in the parlor.” His voice was calm,lacking the menace of a few moments ago. Mr. Runyon features were calmand placid. He gave her a shy, questioning look and tucked her handsecurely in the crook of his arm. “Come Miss Dunforth.”
Alexandra felt a bit foolish. Mr.Runyon surprised her. The paintings were odd, but there was likely anexplanation. She did not wish to seem naïve in regards to art. Sheobserved the kind man next to her. Her current situation and the shock ofthe paintings mixed with her own guilt made her paranoid. Mr. Runyon didnot deserve such quick, harsh judgment. She imagined things.
“Miss Dunforth?” Mr. Runyon watchedher anxiously, his brow wrinkled with concern. “I feel I must apologize.When I lived in Italy, I studied art, in all its many forms. I fear thatthe Italians have much more sophisticated tastes than we English. The paintingsyou saw are considered questionable here in London, but in Italy you see thelike in nearly every drawing room. I should not have brought them backwith me but as an art lover, I could not bring myself to simply put them instorage. I sincerely hope I have not offended you. I’ll have them removedbefore you visit again.” He stated the last bit firmly with a shake of hisblonde head.
“Oh please! It is I who mayhave offended you, Mr. Runyon.” Never had Alexandra felt more like abackward country girl. “I fear my education in the arts is limited, though Ihope to increase my knowledge. I lean toward the scientific. Isimply have not been exposed to Italian art before.”
A smug look crossed Mr. Runyon’s face,then, just as quickly disappeared.
Alexandra paused, deciding she definitelyneeded a sherry. “Tell me about the paintings. I assume by yourcomments you purchased them in Italy.”
