Sinful Deeds by Samantha Holt Read Free Book Online

Mostly
he knew how to drink, be angry, and be serious.
    “Julian,
don’t be an ass.”
    Dante
couldn’t keep the smirk from his face at Viola’s words. He nodded his agreement
and copied her. “Yes, Julian, don’t be an ass.”
    To his
astonishment, a bold grin crept across Julian’s face. “Yes, I know, you’re
desperate for the place. I never quite understood why.”
    Because
it had once been his father’s. Because he could live right in the heart of
London where all the excitement was and away from the dreariness of the countryside.
His own apartments were on the outskirts of London, and it was a bore to take
the carriage everywhere. How he looked forward to strolling to the clubs and
not having to worry about his stomach growing queasy in a cabriolet after a few
drinks.
    “The
house needs redecorating first...” his brother murmured.
    “Hang
the decorating, I can do that myself.”
    Julian
snorted. “Dante, I don’t think you’ve lifted a paintbrush in your life.”
    A
paintbrush. Did he have to say that word? Even now, in a place that seemed a
world away from London, he imagined Josephine with a paint brush in her hands,
smiling at him as she glanced his way. Coloured flecks would cover her
porcelain skin and the scent of paint would be like an aphrodisiac to him.
    Damn
it, he couldn’t let her go that easily. He simply couldn’t.
    “I
could paint if I had to.”
    He
could do anything if he had to... probably. He wasn’t really sure. When his
father had been alive, he’d been shown the ropes of what it was to be the marquess.
Julian had been gravely ill at one point in their boyhood, and it looked as
though he might have to take on the role. He’d seen so much of life that year.
He’d visited towns where his father owned mills, gone to shipping yards, spoken
with the tenant farmers, been taught how to do accounts, and any number of
other skills.
    His
brother had recovered, and it had all been for nought.
    Now he
was a second son, with little to do but enjoy himself. If he could do nothing
else, then at least he owed it to himself to do that well.
    Julian
sighed. “Give me three weeks to ensure the place is ready, and it will be
yours.”
    It was
odd. Dante should have felt like punching the air or clapping his brother on
the back. But instead, the victory felt slightly hollow. He’d been hoping for
that house for years now only to be disappointed each time his brother had let
it to another. He’d been offered one of the country cottages they owned, but
who wanted to live in a cold, crumbling cottage?
    “Thank
you,” he said regardless.
    “I
suppose you’ll be moving Mrs Beaumont in. Or will you keep her in the other
house?”
    “Actually
Josephine has ended our—” he glanced at Viola and recalled she likely knew
everything about him if Julian really did tell her all “—acquaintance.”
    “Oh
well, I’m sure you’ll find another woman soon enough.”
    “I am
hopeful it’s only temporary. I’m keeping the house in case she decides to
return.”
    “Yes, I
thought I saw a bill for the rent only last week. You really think she’ll
return to you?” Julian leaned against the desk.
    “Why
wouldn’t she?”
    Julian
shared a look with his wife. “Dante, you’re my brother and I love you, but
you’re a damn fool at times.”
    He
snorted. “Says you.”
    His
brother scowled at him. “Let’s just say I have learned a few lessons of late.”
He reached over and grasped Viola’s hand. The way they glanced at each other
should have turned his stomach but instead he found himself...envious. How
bloody bizarre.
    “If Mrs
Beaumont has left you, there’s likely a good reason behind it, and if I know
you, you intend to try to seduce or shower her with gifts or some such to get
her back.”
    Dante
lifted a shoulder, unwilling to admit his brother was right. So far the
seductions hadn’t gone quite as planned, in spite of Josephine’s continuing attraction
to him.
    “I
think what my