He jerked back into his seat, revving the engine. “If you don’t want me to know where you’re staying, lass, just say so. But making up a place? Tsk, tsk, I thought more of you. After all we meant to each other this afternoon.”
“Clive, I’m not making it up.” She brushed her hand over the chills skirting down her arm. “Watch, I’ll get out and go inside.”
“You’re going to go inside? Of what?” He motioned with his palm up. “An alley between two department stores? Love, if you need a place to stay, I’ve a spare room.” He surrendered both hands as if warding off her protest. “Strictly platonic. At least for the first night.” He winked. “The guest rooms are on the other side of the house.”
Corina glanced toward the Manor’s front window where she could see Brill sweeping the lobby. “You really don’t see it?”
“Lamb, I do not and I’m a bit concerned if you do.”
Corina popped her door open and slipped the strap of her bag over her shoulder. “See you tonight? I’ll hire a cab. Meet you there?”
“Corina, darling, I can’t leave you by a curb. What will the prince say if anything happens to you?”
“Thanks for the ride, Clive.” She slammed the car door and turned for the Manor as he sped off. If she’d not spent the last four hours with him, she’d believe he was pulling her leg with this no-Manor manner. But he’d been somber and sincere all afternoon once he’d settled down, letting his heart open, becoming her friend.
So, if he didn’t see the inn, then how did Stephen? What about Thomas? A shiver descended on her thoughts.
What’s going on?
Adelaide’s piquant face appeared at the door. “You coming in? Supper’s on soon.”
“Y–yeah, sure.” Corina glanced back at Clive’s car, the red taillights disappearing, and crossed the threshold of the Manor.
TWENTY-ONE
The curved steel of Royal Galaxy Hall, designed to look like a spacecraft, embraced Corina as she walked through the doors.
The futuristic structure cast a cold blue glow over the five-hundred-year-old streets, over the ancient thatched roofs that still existed in the historical district of Cathedral City.
Corina snapped pictures with her phone, musing about the significance of architecture. How it represented where a people had been while speaking of where they are going.
Circulating through the showroom, the music thumping and bumping, she searched the guests for Clive. He’d texted, asking her to meet him by the children’s finger painting display. But she was fine with viewing the gallery on her own for a few minutes. She might even buy a piece. The Children’s Literacy Foundation was a worthy cause and she’d always wanted to collect art.
Cathedral City had been home to some of the world’s most beloved renaissance artists. History credited them with moving Brighton out of the Dark Ages toward enlightenment.
At the children’s display, Corina loved the finger paintings. Such creativity. Especially the one of Jesus with a giant S on his chest. Maybe that one was coming home with her.
Around the wall to a display of acrylic by thirteen- to fifteen-year-olds, Corina ran into a group of men in tuxedos. Clive?
But he was not among them.
That’s when she saw the Pissarro, one of the Impressionist paintings up for auction. Oh my, it was the “Rue du Roi—Avenue of the Kings.”
Her heart filled with memories as she moved closer to inspect the piece.God, what am I to do with this?
The historical scene of the Avenue of the Kings from the top of the Braithwaite Tower, with the horses and carriages standing in the gaslights after a cleansing rain, was magical. Glorious. The view Stephen and Corina experienced the night he proposed. And it was to be auctioned.
“Extraordinary piece, isn’t it? Eighteen ninety-eight.” A woman wearing a Children’s Literacy Foundation badge joined Corina. “We are blessed to have it. The piece was lost for the last five and a half years.”
“Lost?”
“Construction workers found it in an old warehouse on the north side of the city. No one knows how it got there. We believe it belonged to a private collector, but we can’t find the records. Can you imagine? The workmen brought it to us, suggesting we auction it tonight on behalf of the foundation. We will find a permanent home for this beautiful piece.”
“This is my favorite view in the whole city,” Corina said.
“Mine as well. My husband proposed to me on the Braithwaite.” The woman sighed. “Do be sure to register if you haven’t already. The auction starts in thirty minutes.”
“Thank you.” Corina watched the woman until the crowd folded in behind her, then turned back to the painting.
