Artful Deceptions by Patricia Rice Read Free Book Online Page A

high for Rhys Llewellyn to afford. So they would take their chances at one of the more respectable bawdy houses in Covent Garden.
    The problem of Llewellyn caused a momentary frown to crease Locke’s seamless brow, but not for long. He would ply the gentleman with good food and wine and an artless evening, and by morning he would know what was on the man’s mind. Rhys was a good friend, but he’d never met a more stubborn man. What in hell could that painting possibly have to do with the fact that Rhys’s family considered him to be a bastard?
    * * * *
    Rhys met Locke at the club as planned and they ate and drank and amused themselves with tales of old, but by the time they were on the street again, the ex-soldier was more taciturn than ever on the subject that most concerned them.
    “Devil take it, Llewellyn, I’ll buy the painting myself if that is what concerns you. I meant to anyway. I just thought Miss Richards would receive a fairer price if it went through the auction house. You can hang the damn thing on your wall and contemplate your muse as much as you wish, or buy it from me when you’re feeling flush, it makes no mind to me. I just don’t see why you must make the lady wait for her money. You, of all people, must understand what it is like to scrimp and save. She could undoubtedly use the ready.”
    “I would not wish to feel obligated to you if the painting commands a high price, that is all,” Rhys answered stiffly. “Good intentions are well and good, but common sense would win out if the thing went higher than it is worth. And I really would not wish it to fall into other hands.”
    “And you’re not only not going to tell me why you want the damn thing, but you aren’t going to tell me why in the name of Jupiter it should command more than the hundred guineas a portrait of Lawrence’s brings currently?”
    “No.” The reply was simple and curt and brought them to the house they had meant to visit.
    Galen cursed and knocked upon the door, and they entered to the usual fawning welcomes of delight. Glancing around at the garish taste of the decor and the flamboyant dress of their hostess and her “girls,” Galen made a new resolve to begin a serious search for a wife in the morning. It would be much more suitable if one could meet an intelligent woman in impeccable dress in the quiet tastefulness of one’s club and take her home to indulge these harmless needs. Why mankind made sex sleazy and tawdry was beyond his desire to imagine. It was high time he acquired a wife when he began to think like that.
    Rhys wasn’t any more communicative when sipping from a snifter of brandy with a half-dressed nymph wrapped around his shoulders than he had been at dinner. The girl was short and dark and perhaps a trifle too plump, but a mischievous urchin with a smile that teased. Remembering other smiles from other women, Galen began a methodical search through his memory for the ones that pleased him most. It gave him something to do while deciding which of the ladies to choose.
    Undoubtedly Melanie’s smile stood out from all the others. He’d known the chit since childhood. She had never been the whining sort of brat that many another of his friends’ younger sisters had been. She was always pleasant and smiling and happy and well-behaved. Well, almost always. Her behavior on the way to Christie’s the other day was an oddity he had not bothered to investigate. But she had become her usual self quickly enough, and Galen thought her usual self was all that a man could ask.
    Yes, Melanie was very definitely the sort of girl for him. She would make a proper earl’s wife when the time came, and in the meantime she would afford him much amusement. They knew each other well and she would know precisely what to expect from him. He really should have thought of this sooner, and he could have been going home to a laughing conversation with his wife rather than sitting in this disreputable parlor watching an