Turning into the third and last doorway on his right, he sensed another presence. Apparently, solitude would not find him today.
Upon entering the library, he found Logan Harris standing on the rolling ladder, searching one of the shelves for a book.
“Logan. I didn’t know you were here,” Graham said. “What are you doing?”
“McTavish mentioned to me that Lady Belle kept a rather extensive collection of society pamphlets and that she asked you to store them here since the Sharpes moved in,” Logan said without turning around. “I’m trying to find someone.”
“I’m only keeping them here because she didn’t want her nieces to see them, in case there was something written about their scandal.” He walked across the room to the side of the fireplace and opened a wooden cupboard. Pulling out a tall bottle of amber liquid, he grabbed one of the crystal glasses that sat on a tray above it. “Who are you looking for?”
“An artist.”
“Why?”
“Because I’ve recently acquired a rather large painting—sight unseen, I might add—by a new up-and-coming artist out of Paris. Goes by the name Donovan.” Logan pulled a handful of pamphlets off the shelf and climbed down. “Supposedly the fellow is beyond talented. The best painter the continent has seen in nearly two decades.”
“So, you bought a painting by him as an investment?”
Graham knew of Logan’s appreciation for art, but he himself didn’t understand it. Art was pretty, he supposed but he wasn’t terribly interested in paintings, sculptures, or the like.
“Well, usually I never buy a painting without inspecting it first,” he said, coming around to a table to lay out the pamphlets. “But this one was too intriguing to ignore.”
“Oh? What about it is so special?”
“The subject of the painting—a woman turned at the waist, surrounded by yellow velvet.”
Graham shrugged. “That doesn’t sound particularly special to me.” He’d seen something similar dozens of times before.
“Ah, but the rumor has it that this one was not modeled by some London madam, but by a former lover of Donovan. Perhaps even a lady of first society.”
Graham fought not to roll his eyes. It sounded like the sort of gossip someone would make up, just for the fun of having a scandal.
“So?”
Logan rolled his eyes.
“So, I was already in the market for a piece by this Donovan, and it felt expedient to act quickly. If the rumor is true, I may have procured a piece that someone might want back.”
Graham turned to his friend, brow furrowing. “Are you hoping to get some sort of blackmail out of the situation?”
Logan shrugged.
“Not necessarily. Like I said, I was in the market for a piece by this young man anyway. However, if there is someone who wishes the painting to be out of circulation due to some personal reason, well, who would I be to deny a conversation with said person?”
Graham laughed.
“Always trying to make a deal,” he said, shaking his head as he flipped through the pamphlets. “But I still don’t understand why you’re looking through these gossip pages.”
“Lady Belle suggested it,” Logan said, picking one up as he thumbed through the pages. “She had overheard my conversation with your cousin about the artist and mentioned that she had read about him in one of these papers.”
“Did she?” Graham asked, instantly suspicious.
“Yes. Actually, I was debating between the Donovan or a pair of pieces from Marchelies—a French painter. Lady Belle told me about the rumor and rather persuaded me. You know, I’ve never been very fond of the old woman, but there was something about the way she spoke about it. Almost as if she were certain I’d be rich beyond my wildest dreams if I bought it. Made me curious.” He picked up a pamphlet.
“She has some plot simmering in the back of her mind about something or other, mark my words,” Graham said, now positive that Belle was up to something. “But if I know anything, she’s probably correct that you’ll make a pretty penny.” Graham flipped a pamphlet over and added beneath his breath, “Though she might steal your soul in the bargain.”
“What was that?”
“Nothing,” Graham said. “Just be careful, is all.”
