“Most becoming.”
“Thank God. I’d have had to take a hammer to Edgar if you’d said otherwise.”
Arm-in-arm they sauntered, no particular destination in mind, just enjoying each other and the afternoon. If anyone had told Verity she’d feel this way, she’d have told them to stop being ridiculous. And yet here she was, enjoying the warmthof a strong male body next to hers, sharing his humour, and—probably unsurprisingly—his taste in art.
They paused before a portrait, a woman with long, dark hair drifting loosely over her shoulders. She sat on a rock staring out to sea, the sunlight on the waves and her hair, her flimsy garment drifting in the water around her.
“Now this,” whispered Verity, “this is my idea of art.”
“I cannot argue with you. She is special, isn’t she? I wonder if she’s waiting for a sailor who left port months ago with the promise he’d return. And yet...”
“She waits,” finished Verity, lost in the image. “She doesn’t know if she’ll ever see him again, but he’s found a place in her heart. She will never forget him.”
They were both silent as a ray of sunshine moved slowly across the portrait.
“That could have been me,” murmured Verity.
He turned his head, frowning. “You’re waiting for someone to return home?”
She smiled back. “Yes. And now you’re here.”
Lucas breathed in.
“Halloo...”
A call distracted them both, and Verity found her cheeks warm. She moved away from Lucas a little and turned to see Lady Beatrice bearing down on them with a wide smile.
“Dear Verity,” she held out her hands, “and Sir Lucas. How delightful. You must both tell me what you think of our special guest.” She waved toward de Montclair. “Isn’t he the most fascinating man?”
Sparing them the need to invent some platitude, she released Verity’s hands at once. “Oh bother. I must go and welcome our special guest. Countess LaNigaud promised to attend. She’s visiting from Fourdain, and it’s a realcoupfor us to have her in attendance.”
“Of course,” nodded Verity.
“She’ll boost our sales considerably,” whispered Beatrice before she departed. “It looks like there’ll be a hefty deposit in the charity fund tonight. Isn’t that exciting? Should I be doing anything about that?”
“Very exciting,” replied Verity, wishing the woman would just leave so that she could have Lucas all to herself. “But you needn’t worry, Beatrice. I assure you we have everything in hand.”
“So good to know, dear. Now I can rest easy. I’ll definitely talk to you later.” She moved away, waving her hand in the air. “Yoohoo, Madame la Contesse...”
Lucas sighed and took Verity’s arm again. “How soon can we leave?”
*~~*~~*
It was not an idle question on Lucas’s part. He wanted to leave, to sweep her out of there and into his house and his bed. He wanted it so badly he could damn near taste it. But he also knew that one didn’t always get what one wanted.
“I’d like to go right now,” sighed Verity. “But...”
“I know. You’re needed here.”
“I am, unfortunately.” She checked the little timepiece fastened to her cuff. “The pre-show business should be concluded very shortly. Then there will be refreshments, an announcement of which pictures have been purchased and by whom, and then those pictures will be labelled as ‘sold’. They will be on display in that almost empty gallery to the left of the entrance.”
“With appropriate signage, to point everyone that way, so that the buyers’ names will be displayed and their obvious appreciation for fine art can be discussed over teacups for at least the next month?”
“Something like that,” sighed Verity. “It all sounds very shallow, doesn’t it?”
“It is shallow. For them. But they’re in the minority. And their money, wasted on a terrible painting or not, will augment your charity funds a bit.”
“After expenses, yes. Lady Beatrice made that clear earlier.” She put her hand on Lucas’s arm. “I have something I need to tell you.”
