Page 32 of A Scandalous Kind of Duke

She would swear he winced, as if her words had bitten him.

But when he responded, his tone was light. “Your favorite? Do you rank your dukes like I rank my waistcoats?”

“It would not matter if I did, for you would have the top twenty spots.”

“And where do I rank today?”

“Just for being here? Definitely in the top five. Beatrice is delighted by your presence, but upset you didn’t warn her. She threatened to give you quite the scolding.”

Leo turned an amused look on their hostess. Poor Beatrice was trapped in a conversation and fairly straining to escape. “It’s astonishing the number of ladies who chastise me for some terrible naughtiness I was not aware I had committed.”

“They’re flirting with you! How exciting!”

“If they must flirt, could they not simply compliment my superb hair or shapely calves or something, rather than telling me how naughty I am?”

“Perhaps some women harbor a fancy for scolding powerful men.” She eyed the crowd suspiciously. “Who knows what secret proclivities these people might conceal beneath genteel manners and fine clothes?”

Leo chuckled. “Juno Bell,” he said, in thrillingly stern ducal tones, “you are not fit to be taken anywhere. Keep such bawdy comments for your bohemian circles. One does not speak of secret proclivities at this sort of party.”

“I should be permitted to speak of whatever I please at this party, considering I helped pay for it.”

At his questioning look, she explained how Mr. and Mrs. Prescott had directed part of her painting fee toward paying for this celebration.

“The scoundrels.” Leo glared at Mr. Prescott’s straight, black-clad back. “I’ll have a word with him.”

“No!” she said hastily.

“Or scowl at him menacingly?”

“As dearly as I would like to see that, it would only make matters worse. They would turn it against me and paint me as some greedy conniving diva.”

“We could leave in a huff,” he suggested. “That’s always fun.”

“We could, but I must debase myself, for I am promised a look at Mr. Prescott’s newly acquired Botticelli, and my desire to see that painting quite obliterates my pride.”

“And perhaps Mrs. Prescott is not wrong.” He jerked his chin at the clump of gentlemen studying the portrait. “This party might lead to some lucrative commissions, given the wealthy gentlemen here known for their interest in art.”

“Art?” she scoffed. “Chances are they only attended in the hope of seeing pictures of naked women.”

“We-ell, to be honest, that’s all I’m here for.” He lifted his quizzing glass, peered around. “They promised paintings, yet nary a naked nymph to be seen. It’s terribly disappointing. Is it even an art exhibition if there are no breasts or buttocks on display?”

Juno laughed. “Thank you,” she said.

“For?”

“For coming today. For cheering me up. For being a friend.”

His gaze grew thoughtful. A chill shivered through her.

Then his aloof mask fell into place again, as Beatrice arrived, gazing at Leo with awe.

“Your Grace,” she said. “Might I say again how honored I am that you chose to attend?”

He eyed her coolly. “How fortunate you are, to possess something sovaluableas a portrait by Juno Bell, which is worth its weight ingold.”

“She is a wonder, isn’t she?” Oblivious, Beatrice squeezed Juno’s arm. “And how proud I am to have discovered her. The other ladies will be so envious!”

“Careful, or they’ll all be wanting one,” Leo said. “A woman artist will become the latest fashion accessory among the ladies of London.”

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