Page 18 of Real Earls Break the Rules

“No, don’t restrict them. I can afford to buy them dresses and pelisses,” he said. He couldn’t deny them, and he most definitely didn’t want the dowager to think the estate was that bad off. She’d arrange for the reading of the banns tomorrow.

Not when there was a chance he could fix the power looms and make the mill profitable.

“All right.” She turned to leave, then suddenly halted and looked back at Brandon. “I know you are preoccupied with estate matters, but what about your portrait? You know I have been asking you to have it painted. As the newest Earl of Vale, your portrait should be proudly displayed alongside all the prior earls in the portrait gallery.”

“You keep telling me,” he said.

“It’s upsetting that it won’t be displayed for the house party, but it must be completed for future social gatherings. Only several weeks from now, it’s my turn to host the Hampshire ladies garden and literacy society, and those opinionated women will pass through the gallery and undoubtedly inquire about my grandson’s image. If it’s money that’s preventing you from hiring an artist, then I will pay—”

“There are more than sufficient funds for a portrait,” he countered, careful to maintain eye contact and keep his tone level.

“Good. It’s tradition,” she insisted.

“It’s on my list.”

She nodded, then shut the door behind her.

Brandon leaned back in his seat and conjured up a woman’s image. Not of the duke’s daughter, but one of a lady wearing a kerchief over her auburn hair and a paint-stained apron. Her sapphire eyes were as brilliant as a flawless blue sky. His blood pounded through his veins like an avalanche.

Take your pleasure elsewhere.

If all went according to plan, he would. After all, he never was one to follow the rules.

Chapter Six

I can’t believe I’m doing this.

The passageway door closed behind Amelia as she stepped into Lord Vale’s study that night. He was seated behind his desk, sifting through papers when he saw her. He stood and his full lips curved in a smile.

He was meticulously dressed in buff breeches, a navy jacket, striped waistcoat, and a ruby pin in his snowy cravat. She had dressed in a plain blue gown, one she often wore when she painted. She’d purposely chosen the dress to remind her of why she was here. This wasn’t a lover’s tryst, but work.

“I’ve been waiting,” he said. “I feared you had changed your mind.”

“I wanted to be certain everyone in the house was asleep.”

The mantle clock in her room read close to midnight before she’d dared venture out. She was still nervous of discovery. What if Chloe woke and came to her room? It was unlikely, but they’d shared a bedchamber since they were very young and sometimes her sister had nightmares—times when she’d been ill and had dreamed of their father.

It had been a while…but what if?

“I left lit torches in the passageway,” he said.

“Yes. Thank you, my lord.” The secret corridor had been brightly lit, unlike the first time he’d shown her the way to his study. She hadn’t experienced any anxiety, only nervousness at being alone with him.

“It’s Brandon,” he said.

“Pardon?”

“If you are to paint me, you must call me Brandon.”

“It’s horribly improper.”

“In this room then. I insist upon it. Elsewhere you may ‘my lord’ me to your heart’s content.”

“All right,” she agreed hesitantly.

“Say it.”

Their eyes met, and his steady gaze bore into her in silent expectation. She felt a lurch of excitement and felt her cheeks warm.