“You must excuse me. I think I’m going to be ill,” she whispered.
“Take slow breaths, darling.” He wrapped her hands around a warm cup. “Drink,” he commanded.
She sipped. Warmth seeped through his fingers to hers. The tea was strong and sweet. Slowly her head cleared. His paintings, gone. Left in her care.
“That’s better. Now, what has you so upset?” her husband asked gently.
Tears fell down her cheeks. “Someone broke in. Brandon’s paintings. All of them. Gone.”
“Ah, hell,” he muttered. “Lorelei—” A crash sounded from behind them.
Miss Hollerfield’s cup hit the floor in shattered brilliance. Tea spilled in every direction. Her lips and fingers trembled, and her large brown eyes were wide.
Lorelei saw it right away. She was the girl in the painting. The one Brandon had handed over, smiling softly, saying how particularly fond he was ofthatone.
Thorne rose. “Mind the glass at your feet, Miss Hollerfield.” Glass crunched beneath his boots as he made his way to the young woman and plucked her from her chair. “Please, ladies, come with me. Oswald, have Andrews see to the debacle in the dining hall at once.” He set Miss Hollerfield on her feet outside the door and took Lorelei’s arm.
Lorelei sniffed. “What on earth are you about, Thorne?”
He dug out his handkerchief and shoved it in her hand, never slowing his pace across the foyer to his study and ushered both women in.
She was speechless. Each missing painting Brandon had sent her for safekeeping was lined across two walls. Relief spilled through her. “Oh, thank God,” she breathed. “He entrusted them to me.” She counted them, then turned to Thorne, brows furrowed. “I don’t understand. Why would you take them from the walls?”
Corinne gasped. Lorelei spun. Thorne caught the woman up before she hit the floor. He sat her in a large chair near the fire. “Miss Hollerfield?”
Tears fell down her cheeks in great rivulets, but she nodded. Thorne patted his pockets for another handkerchief, but Lorelei thrust the one she held into the girl’s hand. Her eyes were fastened on one picture in particular.
Thorne garnered a look at Miss Hollerfield. “I was having them appraised,” he said mildly.
Lorelei narrowed her eyes on him, hands fisted at her sides. She stepped forward. “Appraised?” she demanded softly. His gaze latched on to her lips, and her skin pricked with heat. Only a momentary distraction. She swallowed. But she wasn’t the only one. He did the same.
He broke his gaze from hers and glanced over at Miss Hollerfield, wincing. “Lorelei, perhaps we should see to our guest. She is quite distraught.”
Lorelei followed his gaze. Lord. It didn’t appear as if Corinne’s waterworks would be ending anytime soon.
Lorelei rushed over. “Corinne.” She took her by the upper arms and shook her to get her attention. “What is it? What has you so upset?”
She blinked up at Lorelei. “That picture. That picture was from the day we met. I-I didn’t pose for him,” she whispered. “He must have panted it from memory.”
Lorelei pulled her into a hug.
“Where is he? He wouldn’t have left me. He knew.” Panic filled the room with her fear.
“Heknew?” Thorne exploded.
Lorelei shot him a pointed look. “That is quite enough, my lord. Perhaps you will excuse us. I shall see Miss Hollerfield to her chambers, where she can pull herself together.” She kept her arm wrapped about Corinne and led her to the door. She stopped and glared over her shoulder. “You shallnotsell my brother’s paintings.”
Thorne’s low growl followed her from the room. A small, satisfied smile blossomed in her chest. “Come, dear. You mustn’t agonize over matters that are easily righted,” she said briskly to Corinne.
“My apologies, Lady Kimpton, and after all your kindness. I’m an ungrateful wretch.”
“Nonsense,” Lorelei told her. They mounted the stairs.
“It’s just… it’s just that Brandon—I’m sorry, Lord Harlowe told me he wished for his works to convey a message.”
“You may certainly refer to my brother as Brandon, Corinne. After all, it appears you have a child together.” She would kill him herself once she found him. How dare he leave this… this girl and her child to such a fate with nary a word? Surely she’d taught him better. “All great artists wish for their works to reveal a message. Rembrandt was known for his profound humanity. Renowned for depicting a model’s mood and inner thoughts by accentuation of his or her physical and facial features.” They stopped before Corinne’s bedchamber. Lorelei patted her shoulder with affection. “Bernardo Bellotto’s works represent a great study of architecture, and—”
“Lady Kimpton, I appreciate what you are trying to say, but I believe Brandon meant something quite different.”
