Love's Portrait (2 page)

She grimaced slightly. That wasn’t completely fair of her. After all, she’d only heard rumors about the man’s behavior. She knew better than to take the stories at face value. But on the other hand, she’d been on the receiving end of St. Claire’s charm when he’d thought to circumvent her determination to review his books. Just yesterday, he’d teased her about wanting to learn everything she could about the shipping business.

“And your antipathy for the man makes me wonder why you chose to invest in his company?” Catherine eyed her mockingly.

“Business should never be guided by emotions. St. Claire Shipping is a sound investment.”

“I see.” Catherine’s ironic tone earned her a look of puzzlement from Alva and a glare from Julia.

St. Claire Shipping had been an excellent investment. Armed with Baxter’s list of candidates, she’d selected four different ventures including the shipping company. If Albert or any of the other Westgards were to discover she was actually reviewing accounting ledgers and conducting business in person with St. Claire, the family would immediately close ranks in an attempt to control her just as her husband had. Perhaps they would have good reason in this instance.

Morgan St. Claire. A shudder rippled through her at the mere thought of the man. He’d been the one drawback to her investing in the company. Although she’d never met St. Claire until investing in his company, she was quite familiar with the man’s reputation.

But it wasn’t until she met him that she understood why so many women fell at his feet. Morgan St. Claire wasn’t just handsome. His sinful dark looks were like a fierce storm threatening to tear her asunder. All the more disturbing were those piercing blue eyes that saw everything yet revealed nothing. There was an air about him that commanded obedience.

And he definitely didn’t like his authority being questioned. Particularly when it came to her examination of his business. Something she’d done quite a bit of over the past few weeks. Even she’d been surprised by her daring when she’d insisted on reviewing the company’s books before she invested her money.

Although she’d trusted Baxter’s recommendations, she’d wanted to learn more about the businesses she’d chosen to invest her monies. Initially, St. Claire been stubborn in his refusal to grant her access to his accounting and clerks, but when she wouldn’t budge on the issue, he’d begrudgingly agreed.

The fact that he’d conceded defeat in the face of her persistence had amazed her. Morgan St. Claire was a man who gave commands. He didn’t take them. And his concession had bolstered her confidence more than anything else she’d done since Oscar’s death. It had helped ease the feelings of worthlessness her husband had cultivated in her. But more importantly, it had given her a confidence she’d lost on her wedding day.

Oscar had controlled her every move their entire marriage, and that she’d found the wherewithal to stand up to Morgan St. Claire illustrated how far she’d come in such a short time. St. Claire was used to getting his way, but she’d stood her ground with him and won. The small victory had fortified her confidence, and strengthened her resolve never to let any man control her ever again.

“I still don’t see why you find it necessary to sneak into the man’s hotel room instead of just asking for a handkerchief.” Alva’s disapproving tone pulled Julia out of her thoughts.

Frustrated, she shook her head. Didn’t either one of her friends understand why she needed to do this? Her actions would have appalled Oscar, and that alone was enough to make her do it. But it also gave her the opportunity to provide the Society for Lost Angels with an item that would fill their coffers. She had no doubt that there was more than one woman willing to pay handsomely to own a St. Claire handkerchief, if only for the notoriety of its original owner.

“Because, Alva, it won’t have as dramatic an impact if I ask him for one. Sneaking into the man’s hotel room and taking a handkerchief without getting caught will cause a stir among the ladies. They’ll want details about his hotel room, which I’ll be happy to elaborate on as long as they bid on the blasted thing.”

“Surely you’re not going to admit to the Society that you entered the man’s room.” Alva looked askance at the idea.

“Of course not.” With a wave of her hand, Julia smiled patiently at her friend. “I’m simply going to explain that the woman who took the handkerchief prefers to remain anonymous. For obvious reasons, of course.”

“Of course.” Catherine coughed her disparagement forcing Julia to glare at the woman.

“I’ll tell everyone the woman took the handkerchief on a dare and agreed to let me share the tale of her nerve wracking adventure.”

“I think it’s far too dangerous, Julia. Surely there has to be some other way to acquire the man’s handkerchief.” Alva frowned in clear disapproval. “Catherine, she’ll listen to you. Tell her it’s a mistake to even attempt this.”

“I’ve already tried,” her cousin said in a disgruntled tone. “I can’t reason with her.”

“Because you’ve not been able to tell me that my plan won’t work.” Julia eyed Catherine with irritation. “I’m taking every precaution, and it’s something I
have
to do.”

She wasn’t altogether sure why this latest scheme of hers was so important. It just was. The only real risk with having Peebles painting her had been trusting him not to show the canvas to anyone. The man had an impeccable reputation for discretion, and she’d paid him well to keep the portrait a secret. As there had been not the slightest hint of rumor regarding her sittings, she was certain the man had kept her confidence.

But the entire time the man was painting her, she’d experienced an exhilaration that had been intoxicating. Maybe that was why her plan to steal St. Claire’s handkerchief was so important to her. She wanted to experience that sensation again. The pleasure of doing something wicked and getting away with it.

The portrait had been a simple adventure. Taking a handkerchief from St. Claire’s room was much more risky. Frighteningly so, but she wanted to test her newfound courage to be even more daring. Of course, she wasn’t sure how courageous it was to undertake what was a rather foolhardy venture. But she’d made up her mind and refused to back down now.

“But how will you prove that it’s really Mr. St. Claire’s handkerchief?” Alva’s brow puckered as she was clearly trying to find holes in Julia’s well-laid plans.

“His monogram. We’ve all heard the story of how he gives a handkerchief to each of his mistresses as a parting gift when he breaks with them.” Julia grimaced at her words. “Supposedly for the woman to dry her eyes.”

She had no idea if the story was true or not, but she wouldn’t put it past the man’s arrogance. The man was a well-known womanizer, and she could see why. As much as she hated to admit it, St. Claire had a dizzying effect on the senses.

“Oh that sounds so romantic.”

“Don’t be a ninny, Alva. It’s not romantic at all.” Catherine turned her glare on Julia. “As for you, cousin, I think you’ve gone mad. You’ll cause a sensation if you’re caught, and there’s the distinct possibility of being ostracized. You know how the Queen is about circumspect behavior. Although as far as Prince Edward is concerned, the man would probably applaud you. Still, polite society won’t overlook an outright discretion of this sort.”

Julia waved her cousin’s concerns aside. “I won’t get caught. I have it all planned out. Dinner is being served in St. Claire’s private dining room at the Clarendon tomorrow night. I’ll simply ask to refresh myself then run upstairs and retrieve the handkerchief from the man’s room. I’ll be back at the dinner party before anyone is the wiser.”

“What is that old adage? The best laid plans go astray?” Catherine mouth was tight with disapproval, but there was concern in her gaze too.

“My maid knows the maid on St. Claire’s floor. The girl is quite trustworthy. I promise you. Nothing will go wrong.”

Julia smiled at both of her friends with a sense of extreme satisfaction. Nothing would go wrong. She was certain of it, and she was going to enjoy auctioning off one of St. Claire’s handkerchiefs. She would be the first woman to own one that
hadn’t
been given in a moment of pity.

Chapter 2

Morgan St. Claire caught the faint aroma of citrus on his left as he reached for his wine glass. Every muscle in his body was tight with expectation. A sensation he’d not been able to rid himself of from the first moment he’d seen Julia Westgard’s portrait. His head tilted to one side, Morgan listened half-heartedly to Edward Parkinson drone on about his racing horses as he studied Julia out of the corner of his eye.

The rich-colored blue of her gown enhanced the warm peach tone of her skin. She was like a tempting dessert he wanted to keep all for himself. His gaze lingered on the rounded top of her breasts and the dark cleft between them. Although he couldn’t see them, he knew her nipples were a deep mauve color.

His cock stiffened slightly at the thought of Julia’s portrait. Ever since his first glimpse of the painting, it had kept him awake more nights than he cared to admit. Particularly when Peebles had snatched the cloth from him and hidden the nude from view before Morgan had barely had time to appreciate the artwork or its subject.

It had been quite by accident that he’d even seen Julia’s provocative portrait. Morgan had visited Peebles studio to view a painting of a friend. As always, Jonathan had been late, and while waiting, Morgan had inadvertently dislodged the material over Julia’s portrait. The partial view had been so entrancing he’d exposed the rest of the portrait despite Peebles’s outrage.

The fact that the artist had refused to offer up any information regarding his subject had been frustrating. Morgan had even hired a street urchin to watch the artist’s studio, but the boy had provided him with nothing useful in his attempts to find the woman in the portrait. It made him think Peebles had warned the lady of Morgan’s interest and other arrangements had been made with regard to her sittings.

Morgan had been stumped as to how to find the subject of Peebles’s painting, and when Julia had walked into his shipping office near the docks, he’d been rendered speechless. He was never at a loss for words, but it had taken him several minutes to gather his wits when she’d arrived with her lawyer to discuss investing in his company. The woman in the portrait had been that of a sensual, sultry woman accustomed to pleasing a man and enjoying the same in return. But the Julia who’d entered his office was vastly different from the woman he’d imagined.

In fact, she was a challenge. With her cool exterior and impervious resistance to his flirtations, she only managed to increase his determination to reveal the woman he’d seen in the portrait. With an understanding nod in Parkinson’s direction to indicate he empathized with the man’s problems, Morgan turned his head to look directly at Julia.

She was still engrossed in conversation with another of his investors, and it afforded him the opportunity to study her profile for a moment. She wore her auburn hair up, leaving her slender neck exposed while revealing the delicate shape of her ear. His mouth went dry at the thought of nibbling at the spot where her neck met the gentle indentation of her shoulder. A wisp of hair had broken loose from her upswept hair and brushed against her soft-looking skin. He almost reached out to touch it, but caught himself in time.

Damnation, he needed to control his fascination with her. One way or another he intended to have Julia Westgard in his bed, but he wasn’t about to let his cock lead him about like a dog on a leash. His lust for the woman had already made him break one of his most important rules. Never mix business with pleasure. Until Julia, it had never been an issue. He knew it had been a serious error in judgment to agree to let her invest in St. Claire Shipping, and yet before he could stop himself, he’d agreed to sell her shares in his company.

His jaw tightened. His agreement to the contingencies she demanded as part of her investment had been even more egregious. It was one thing to consider indulging in a liaison with the woman, but to open up his office doors to her was altogether a different matter. And yet, he’d done just that. He’d agreed to let the woman experience his company’s operations first-hand. A fact that illustrated how fascinated he was with the woman. And he’d do well to remember where enthrallment generally led.

It was a well-known fact that his mother had supposedly captivated his father in the beginning, and Morgan knew how well their marriage had turned out. His throat closed up slightly. It hadn’t taken Morgan’s father long to stray from his wife. Embittered by the man’s blatant affairs, his wife had come to hate the sight of Morgan because he was a younger version of his sire. Between his mother’s distaste for him and his father’s indifference, Morgan’s childhood had been less than pleasant. And the experience had done little to recommend the state of matrimony to him.

Julia reached for her wine glass, and the movement interrupted the unpleasant retrospection of his childhood. Beneath his gaze, Morgan saw the pulse in the side of her neck flutter. The delicate movement indicated she was aware of his stare, and from the rigid set of her shoulders to the way her fingers curled around the stem of her wine glass her tension was plain to see. He liked knowing he unsettled her. It meant she wasn’t immune to him.

He stared at her lips for a long, drawn out moment. It was a tempting mouth. The wine had stained her lips a dark red, and a sudden urge to taste her latched onto him with all the force of a charging bull. He fought the desire clamping down on every inch of his body as he watched her take a bite of her salmon. Despite her attempt to present a calm composure, he knew she was anything but.

“You seem distracted, Mrs. Westgard.” He bit back a smile as she quickly looked away from him.

“Do I?” There was a catch in her voice before she regained that serene composure she’d consistently presented him with since their first meeting. “Forgive me. I’m simply savoring this delicious salmon. The hotel’s chef has outdone himself. Do you suppose he would send me the recipe?”