She looked as though he’d brought her to heaven itself. “The play of light and shadow in these paintings is absolutely breathtaking. This technique they’re using…”
“It’s called ‘chiaroscuro,’” he said gruffly, embarrassed that he had learned every possible detail except how to actually produce it. He’d believed enjoying others’ art would have to be enough.
He now realized thatsharingit was even more magical.
“I cannot tear my eyes away,” she whispered, clearly awestruck.
It was true. When they had walked past Lady Jersey and the other patronesses of Almack’s, Miss Winfield had not so much as blinked. Likely she had not been in Town long enough to recognize the most important members of Society.
It was one of the many things Heath liked best about Miss Winfield: her lack of knowledge about social hierarchy, gossip, and scandals made her seem fresh and untarnished by superficial nonsense.
She was present in the moment in a way that few other gallery-goers even attempted. Miss Winfield wasn’t darting looks beneath her lashes to see who strolled with whom, or who had worn which gown, or had arrived in which carriage. She was staring at each work of art with much the same expression Heath imagined on his own visage.
“This may be my favorite place in the city,” he murmured.
“This may be my favorite place in England,” she countered with a startled laugh. “Thank you for bringing me here.”
In truth, he could not have asked for a better partner. Miss Winfield was the perfect companion to bring to this gallery. To any gallery.
He was pleased by how much she loved art. Flattered by how carefully she listened to his opinions. Delighted that not only wasn’t she bored by critical analysis of each painting, but discussed them with even more enthusiasm than his mother discussed shopping for new bonnets.
“My pleasure,” he responded, and meant it.
If he were honest, he had called upon the Roundtree residence today not to speak to his client, but in hopes of seeing Miss Winfield. He had been so disappointed on the occasions when he had dropped by to give the baroness his weekly update and her companion had not been present.
Today, inspiration had struck. During a private conference in Lady Roundtree’s parlor, he could not reasonably request Miss Winfield’s presence, but he could invite both ladies to join him somewhere else. The Dulwich Picture Gallery opening to the public at long last was a happy coincidence that gave him an easy excuse for an outing.
He slid a glance toward Miss Winfield. As it turned out, there was no one else he would rather have by his side.
“I cannot wait to explore the next collection,” he said.
The paintings within had been collected for the King of Poland, who had been forced to abdicate the throne before he could enjoy them.
When they entered the room, Miss Winfield clasped her hands to her chest as though her heart had started pounding just like Heath’s.
“Have you ever seen anything so lovely?” she breathed.
Shewas a vision. Her shimmering red curls, her rose-pink gown, her captivating blue eyes sparkling with interest and excitement.
He couldn’t stop sneaking stolen, enchanted glances at her. It was as if the works of art began with Miss Winfield herself, before they had even stepped inside the gallery.
“Very few things are this lovely,” he agreed gruffly.
She turned in a slow circle to take in the vastness of the salon. “If I had a collection like this, I would stare at it every day.”
Heath’s opinion exactly. His favorite daydream. The closest he’d come to realizing it were the works on the walls of his private chambers, a collection glimpsed by few individuals. He was startled to realize that Miss Winfield was perhaps the one person who would appreciate it as much as Heath.
With her, he would not have to hide his true self.
“I’m glad you are pleased with today’s excursion,” he murmured.
“Pleased?” Her eyes shone with joy. “There is nowhere I would rather be.”
And no one Heath would rather be with.
A wise man would not allow this infatuation to continue. She was a farm maiden. Someone’s employee. Far below his station. The rules had been impressed upon him since birth. Yet he could not help but notice that he was not the only one Miss Winfield had charmed.
Lady Roundtree had once been vociferously against the idea of a paid companion. According to gossips like Phineas Mapleton, it was because the baroness was barren and did not wish to be pitied by her peers for being forced to pay some commoner to spend time with her, rather than birth a proper family of her own.
