Page 41 of A Scandalous Kind of Duke

If they were friends.

“Friends do not kiss like that,” she said.

Leo said nothing.

Anger lashed her again. “But we have established we are not friends. Tell me, Your Grace, you who knows so much, what are we?”

Leo said nothing.

“Nothing,” she said, translating his silence to answer the question for them both. “Ten years, yet nothing remains.”

She whirled around and stumbled away.

As she headed for the shrubbery, she focused hard on the leaves, on tracing their shapes with her mind’s eye. Anything to keep from weeping. Anything to keep from indulging her cartwheeling feelings.

Anything to keep from looking back.

CHAPTER12

Beatrice insisted on taking Juno home after the garden party, which meant she had to endure for what felt like years, pasting on a smile, making trite conversation with guests, waving away concerned inquiries from her cousins and aunt (“I’m merely tired,” Juno assured them. “It has been quite a day!”).

And, of course, suffering through Beatrice’s oblivious enthusiasm.

“I have the most exciting news for you, Juno darling!” Beatrice said. “I shall tell you when we reach your house. You are in for the most marvelous surprise!”

Juno wasn’t sure she could tolerate any more surprises today.

But at her house, she was too drained to resist when a beaming Beatrice dragged her into her parlor and pointed at the wall.

At an empty spot, right where Juno’s painting of Pandora had hung.

Her stomach plummeted through the floor. She stared at the space in horror. “Beatrice, what have you done?”

“Prescott has sold your Pandora painting! And for a lovely price too.” She caught Juno’s shoulders in a brief hug. “I insisted he act with speed for I am so ashamed of how we treated you over your fee, and there was Lord Renshaw, happy to take any piece of art that Prescott recommended.”

“Lord Renshaw.”

Juno smothered her laugh. If she started laughing now, she might never stop. The man who had insulted her today now owned her painting and its frame.

Which meant he also owned her secret cache of drawings of Leo.

Oh, dear heaven, she was going to be sick.

“Lord Renshaw would never buy art by me.”

“But ofcoursehe did. Prescott recommended it, and everyone listens to Prescott when it comes to art. We sent over his secretary with a note for Mrs. Kegworth to collect it. Renshaw is happy to acquire a new painting, you are happy to get a fine price from an earl, no less, and I am happy that you will forgive me. Isn’t this marvelous? Look at you, you are quite speechless.”

Juno forced her brain to work. “It was the wrong frame. We must get that frame back.” She gripped Beatrice’s shoulders urgently. “Tell Lord Renshaw there has been a mistake, take back the painting, and next week when the new frame is ready—”

“Whatever are you suggesting?” Beatrice yanked herself free, her expression appalled. “That I embarrass myself in front of anearl?”

“He’ll have secretaries or butlers to manage such matters. If you or Mr. Prescott simply explain—”

“I expected you to be grateful, Juno. Prescott supported you. Prescott! Every artist in London clamors for his attention, and he staked his reputation on you! And you want us to tell anearlthere has been amistake? I would soonerdie.”

Juno scrambled for an excuse. “That frame is old. The new frame I ordered is much better suited to that painting, and since Renshaw has paid for the frame too, he deserves—”

“Prescott approved that frame. Perhaps the one you ordered is better, but you need not be perfect every time.” Beatrice’s expression softened. “Do calm yourself. You know these men. They like the idea of art more than the art itself. They show off a painting to their dinner guests once and then forget all about it.”

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