Diana blushed along with her. She’d been surprised when Hunt told her that he was very adept at dressing and undressing women, so they didn’t need a third person on their honeymoon. He’d left his valet in London, also. The entire time they were gone, Diana had kept her hair in a simple style that she could do herself. She grinned, remembering some of the undressing sessions they’d had.
Diana turned in a circle, her hands on her hips. “Where are we going to put all of this?”
Marguerite nodded toward a wardrobe against the wall. “I was able to clear out some space in that one.” She continued to pull out gowns and shake them.
Diana walked over to the wardrobe. Sitting alongside it was a picture frame with a piece of linen draped over it. The closer she got, the more anxious she became, her heart pounding and her mouth dry. It looked familiar and, with a shaky hand, she pulled up the fabric and gasped.
“Is something wrong, my lady?” Marguerite asked.
Diana was staring at the portrait Hunt was supposed to burn. Her thoughts were so muddled she couldn’t speak. He’d kept it all this time! Had he spent his nights ogling her?
She growled and flipped the linen down, picked up the vile painting, and marched across the room. “I will be back, Marguerite.”
Or not.
She flew down the stairs, almost losing her footing as she rounded the corner and headed toward the library. She flung the door open to see Hunt sitting at his desk. He looked up and smiled. Within seconds, his smile dimmed. “Is something wrong, sweetheart?”
Diana stormed up to the desk and slammed the painting in front of him, then came within inches of his face. “Don’t you sweetheart me. You, you, you blackguard!” She quelled the urge to slap his face. How dare he keep that horrible portrait right here in his house where anyone who spotted it could lift the linen and look at it.
She was mortified.
He looked down, his face growing pale. “The portrait?”
“Yes. The. . .the, portrait! I see by your reaction you know exactly what I’m talking about.” She stamped her foot, feeling quite foolish, but uncaring how juvenile it looked. “You promised you would burn it!”
“Now wait a minute, Diana. I did not promise I would burn it. You asked me to, but I have been yet unable to do so.”
She crossed her arms under her breasts and tapped her foot. Oh, the man was impossible. She lowered her voice, trying hard to be an adult about this. “In all this time, you haven’t been able to burn it?”
He stood and threw out his hands. “Do you have any idea what the smell of burning paint would be like?”
She shook her head.
“Well, neither do I. But I’m sure it’s not pleasant and would encourage questions.”
She dropped her arms to the side. “I can’t trust you.” She stared at him. “I Can’t. Trust. You. How can we have a marriage if there is no trust?”
Hunt ran his fingers through his hair. “You are taking this too far. Of course you can trust me. I’m your husband.”
Diana backed away. “No. I cannot trust you. You knew how important this was to me. You were to steal the portrait and then burn it. Marguerite moved it out of a wardrobe in my bedchamber to make room for my clothes. Anyone coming into the room, for any reason, could look at it.”
He just shook his head.
“I. . . I have to leave.” She turned. “I must go.”
“Diana, wait!”
She hurried away, tears stinging her eyes. She raced up the stairs, went into the bedchamber where Marguerite still worked, and said, “Get your coat. We are leaving.”
Her eyes wide, Marguerite must have seen something in her face because she never questioned her but merely dropped the gown she was shaking out, grabbed her coat, and followed Diana down the steps.
“May I have the carr
iage brought around, my lady?” Peters asked as they arrived at the door.
“No, but thank you. We will hire a hackney.” She grabbed Marguerite’s hand and dragged her out the door, down the steps, and practically ran them both down the pavement until they reached an empty hackney. She gave the address of her townhouse, climbed inside, and leaned her head against the squab.
“I believe I have made a huge mistake.” With those words, she covered her face with her hands and burst into tears.