He examined the reason for his strong dislike. Was he being unreasonable? Or just resistant to the idea of Bianchi snatching his sister away from England? He turned to study Bianchi, who was laughingly rearranging Lizzie’s shawl. She would not marry him until he was quite sure the man was sound.
A slight, nervous fellow entered the gallery with a package wrapped in brown paper and tied with string tucked under his arm. He hurried over to them. “Baron Bianchi, I have brought the drawing.” Breathing heavily, he began to tug at the strings.
Bianchi put out a hand to prevent him. “My expert, Mr. Barrett, has not yet arrived, Mr. Gillies. Please allow me to introduce my good friend, Lord Peyton. His sister, Lady Greywood, you met yesterday. Do look around the room at your leisure, and we shall discuss this matter when Mr. Barrett arrives.”
As Gillies wandered reluctantly away, Bianchi turned to Jason, his dark eyes hard as granite. “This is an embarrassment for which I must apologize. I did not wish to involve you, Lord Peyton. But I shall have to deal with it. I have engaged a table for luncheon at the hotel across the street and should be delighted if you would join me there.”
Jason accepted, determined to learn more.
“I won’t keep you now. Please go, enjoy a glass of wine, and I will join you as soon as I have finished. The work is genuine. It will take but a moment to establish the fact.”
Jason took Lizzie’s arm. She resisted as he guided her toward the door, but he firmly drew her out into the street.
She glared at him. “I want to see what occurs.”
“Lord Bianchi will tell us in his own time. Be patient, Lizzie.”
A waiter led them to a table near the window, and Jason ordered wine. Across the street, a dark-haired man entered the gallery, carrying a valise. Through the long windows, he saw Bianchi welcoming him and introducing him to Mr. Gillies.
“What’s happening?” Lizzie frowned, her view obscured by a pillar.
“They have gone into another room,” Jason said. “Sherry?”
Lizzie looked pale, her large eyes strained. “Thank you, I feel the need of one.”
Jason signaled the waiter. His sister wasn’t lacking in perception. Had she begun to suspect Bianchi was not quite what he appeared? Questions filled his mind. Why had the baron wanted him here? Was it merely to lend him some measure of credibility? Who was this so-called expert he’d called in? Jason would question Bianchi more closely than perhaps the baron would like when he joined them for luncheon.
He opened the menu. “Scalloped oysters or some cold chicken?”
“I couldn’t eat a bite.” Lizzie pleated the linen napkin in her fingers.
“You aren’t committed to this man, Lizzie,” Jason said carefully. “If you’ve changed your mind about him, you have only to say.”
Her worried green eyes met his. “I was happy with him, Jas. Life in England has been trying since Greywood died. I see a future for myself with him.”
Widowhood could be hard on women. He could almost hear Helen observing how men could marry again immediately, but women were isolated from society and forced to dress in drab clothing. With a pang, he patted Lizzie’s hand. “You’re assured of an excellent future without him in it. There are many men, dozens,” he added with a wink, “eager to make you happy, should you let them.”
She sighed. “At my age, a widower with children, I suppose. English peers only wed when they have to and seldom to someone my age.”
“That’s true of some, but not all.”
“Oh? Look at you, almost thirty-three and still not married.” She leaned forward. “And with no intention of it. Oh, but you feel the Peyton line is secure with Charlie, don’t you?”
No intention of it?Jason turned his wine glass in his fingers, watching it catch the light. “Yes, it is. But I wouldn’t say that I never intend to tie the knot.”
Lizzie’s eyes brightened. “It’s one of the Kinsey girls. I knew it as soon as I received an invitation to Lady Diana’s ball. I’ve heard she’s a beauty.”
Jason was saved from answering by Bianchi, who came bustling through the door. All smiles, he greeted them formally and took a seat at the table. “The matter is at an end. Utter nonsense! Mr. Barrett soon confirmed the drawing was genuine.”
“That is excellent news,” Lizzie said gaily.
Jason echoed her response, in a soberer tone, and glanced through the window to where Mr. Gillies scurried away, head down, clutching his package. He did not appear to be happy to discover his drawing was genuine. Jason decided to write again to Vale in Florence.
“Shall we order champagne?” Bianchi smiled and patted Lizzie’s hand. “I believe it’s called for in the circumstances.”
“I’ll stick to wine thank you,” Jason said. “Tell me, Baron, are you confident that Mr. Barrett has the right qualifications to make such a judgment? Art forgeries are sometimes extremely difficult to detect. EspeciallyDürer, who has been copied many times since the sixteenth century.”
“The woodcuts certainly. But there is no doubt this drawing was done by the artist on blue paper.” Bianchi’s smile dimmed, and he turned to signal the waiter. “I have complete faith in Mr. Barrett. I’ve consulted him on several occasions.”
