Sinful Deeds Read Free Page B

couldn’t
remember how many. But she was their sole provider and, as such, needed constant
and well-paid employment. Dante paused to curl a hand around the door frame.
    “You
are to remain here, Miss Smith. Keep the house clean and in order. Ensure Potts
and Mrs B continue as usual.”
    “My
lord?” Miss Smith’s bold blue gaze flicked to his.
    “Mrs Beaumont
will be returning,” he assured her. “Just ensure everything is ready for her.”
    Yes,
this was good. She would return to him. She simply had to. Josephine loved him.
Why would she deny the company of the man she loved? He would just have to be extremely
persuasive.
    “Do you
know where she went?”
    “No, my
lord. She only said to send her apologies and to thank you for everything. But
you will see her soon, will you not? London is not so very big.”
    The
housekeeper was right. They ran in the same social circles, which was how they
had met. At some point, he would run into her. But some point wasn’t soon enough. He needed to see her now. Bloody hell, what if she was
rotting in some boarding house somewhere? He had to save the damned woman from
herself.
    “She
took a cab?”
    “Yes,
my lord.”
    He
hissed his discontent. He had no way of tracking her down. Unless... “Miss
Smith, I shall bid you good day. I’ll be along again soon.”
    This
very day if he could help it.
    After retrieving
his hat, he shoved it on his head and made his way out into the street. He
waved a hand to his driver to indicate that he remain. Barnaby’s wasn’t far
away so he walked. Tourists, merchants, and locals crowded the streets,
hindering his progress. He cursed when a woman wheeled over his foot with her
heavy pram but managed to offer her a polite smile and a tip of his hat when
she apologised.
    The art
shop sat down the narrow alleyway on Chapel Street. The green-painted wooden
front and bevelled windows were grimy and chipped, covered in a faint sheen of
coal dust. Dante smirked. For the prices Barnaby was charging, he ought to be
able to get the place cleaned and painted.
    When he
entered the art shop, dust tickled his nose and the acrid scent of paint made
him wince. The bell on the door tinkled and the old man behind the counter
perked. He came around the counter and pressed his glasses up his nose to peer
at him. He dropped into an obscenely low bow.
    Dante
took a moment to glance around. The place was deserted. Perhaps he did
understand why Barnaby had to charge so much money for his supplies. Apparently
the shop wasn’t frequented by patrons often.
    “My
lord, it is an honour.”
    Dante
waited for the white-haired man to straighten. Straightening looked to be an
impossibility. From the paint smudges on his hand, it appeared as though the
shopkeeper had spent too many days bent over a canvas and his posture would
remain deformed. The man stood at an odd sort of angle and had to peer up at
him from under bushy white eyebrows that matched his hair.
    “Has
Mrs Beaumont been in recently?”
    “Why,
yes, only two days ago. She came to settle some accounts.”
    He let
his eyebrows dart up. “All her accounts are paid up?”
    “Yes,
my lord. In full. She asked that we do not send the invoices to your address
anymore. Is that why you are here? Were you expecting them to come to you?”
    Dante
rubbed his temples. Josephine’s art supplies cost him more money than most of
her jewels and dresses over the years. How had she been able to settle the
account?
    “Tell
me, does she still have an account with you?”
    “Yes,
she ordered some new brushes and paints the very same day.” The old man gave a wistful
smile. “She was quite excited to try the new Lefranc and Bourgeois colours.
Perhaps you would like to see?”
    Dante
shook his head. He had no interest in Lefranc and...whatever it was. “Where
were these new paints to be sent?” he demanded.
    Barnaby
drew down his glasses and eyed him over the wire frames. “If there is a reason
you don’t know where she