by Monica Burns
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 during 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 indiscretion 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’s 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.
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About the Author
A bestselling author of spicy and erotic romance, Monica Burns penned her first short romance story at the age of nine when she selected the pseudonym she uses today. Her historical book awards include the 2011 RT BookReviews Reviewers Choice Award and the 2012 Gayle Wilson Heart of Excellence Award for Pleasure Me. She is also the recipient of the prestigious paranormal romance award, the 2011 PRISM Best of the Best for Assassin’s Heart. From the days when she hid her stories from her si
sters to her first completed full-length manuscript, she always believed in her dream despite rejections and setbacks. A workaholic wife and mother, Monica believes it’s possible for the good guy to win if they work hard enough.
Contact Monica at
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Other Titles by Monica Burns
Love’s Revenge
Love’s Portrait
Obsession
A Bluestocking Christmas
Kismet
Pleasure Me
Dangerous
Free Dangerous Epilogue PDF • PRC
Mirage
Order of the Sicari Novels
Assassin’s Honor
Assassin’s Heart
Inferno’s Kiss
Table of Contents
Cover
Title Page
Copyright
Acknowledgements
Author’s Note
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Special Preview of Love’s Portrait
About the Author
Other Titles by Monica Burns