I smiled at her, actually having enjoyed her passionate speech about the genius talent of Mallerton. She could hold her own in a Parliamentary pulpit I would wager, but I still was missing the point of her art history lesson in regard to me. “I still haven’t worked out why my being Lord Rothvale is significant, Gabrielle. Don’t get me wrong, I am grateful you seem to be so impressed with my title, but I don’t ever really use it except formally for Parliamentary functions—”
“How long have you been Lord Rothvale, Ivan?”
“Nearly four years. Why?”
“You really don’t know, do you?” She stared at me now, hands on hips, with the breeze moving single strands of her hair in all directions.
“Know what, Gabrielle? What don’t I know?” We needed a new topic of conversation, stat. This one was going in useless circles.
“Lord Rothvale number nine is credited for making the career of Tristan Mallerton. He was an early philanthropist for the arts and even one of the original founding members of The National Gallery. He recognized the talent in the young artist and was motivated to nurture that talent by becoming Mallerton’s mentor and patron. Lord Rothvale IX and Tristan Mallerton were also very close lifelong friends.”
Ahhh, the light bulb switched on and even my thick skull allowed in some illumination. If my ancestor was Mallerton’s mentor, even I was capable of connecting those dots easily enough. I wasn’t that dense. “I knew of the part about Rothvale’s involvement in the founding of The National Gallery. My sole reason for having to attend Gallery's charity galas, and, luckily for me, the sole reason I first encountered you, Miss Hargreave.” I smiled, remembering how perfect it felt to have her coming apart in my arms.
Gabrielle, however, had more to say, and ignored my dirty reference to our first meeting completely. “Mallerton lived with the family; painting exclusively for Lord Rothvale, who provided a home and a studio so he could focus on his craft with no financial burdens. Without the forward thinking of your Lord Rothvale ancestor, Tristan Mallerton would probably have been lost to the ravages of history because he was born poor. And that would have been an incalculable tragedy.”
She gave me a self-satisfied smirk as she finished her second scholarly speech in as many minutes. But I could see how the scale had just dipped in my favor. Significantly. I wouldn’t be complaining about it either. If my title was going to help keep Gabrielle at Donadea where I could enjoy her, then the useless thing was finally a fucking bonus for once. Thank you, Uncle Matthew. “So, am I to understand that my Rothvale legacy art collection just became a bit more of a commodity than you initially thought?”
“Yes! Oh yes, Ivan, there’s no telling what you have here at Donadea. I have to see it. Your paintings. Now.” She sounded and looked desperate. “Please show me,” she begged with a sharp tug to my hand.
“You know, Miss Hargreave, you are incredibly fuckin' sexy when you beg.”
“I'll keep that in mind, Lord Rothvale,” she told me with a backward glance over her shoulder and a devilish little wink, “for later.” Then she pulled us toward the Willys and flashed me the stunning view that was her arse in some tight jeans.
My cock really appreciated her efforts. I supposed my trip to the gallery with Gabrielle was going to be pleasurably memorable as well. I would make sure she got a full and thorough tour as a good host should always do.
Chapter 6
IVAN
The first thing she did after I led her into the gallery was gasp. Then she got quiet as her eyes carefully swept the room as if she didn’t want to miss a single thing. “Oh-my-God-Ivan," she covered her mouth with the hand that wasn’t clasped in mine, “you have an absolute treasure trove here. There are so many—paintings—paintings everywhere.” Then she gently let go of me and stepped further into the room, immediately beginning to take stock of what was displayed on every wall. “Who is this woman with the greyhound?”
“That would be a former Lady Rothvale with her beloved dog. There's been more Lady Rothvales than Lord Rothvales in the last few generations. Second and even third wives arrived on scene through the years. She's probably the much younger second wife of Lord Rothvale ten if I had to guess.”
“So elegant with her coat and hat,” Gabrielle said admiringly, scrutinizing the life-sized portrait of a willowy woman in a charcoal silk coat and an enormous hat with lavender flowers, framed by a jeweled-collared black greyhound that matched her clothing as if it’d been planned that way. Probably had been. “I'd place this portrait circa 1910 if I had to guess,” she said with a quick nod, repeating my phrasing.
“That sounds about right. It has a very Titanic feel to it, I agree.”
“I love that the dog was included in this painting.” She sighed as she admired the canvas.
Good. I breathed a small sigh of relief. It didn’t take brilliance to see she was pleased with what she’d found here. I tried to explain as much as I knew, which was sadly not much, but I gave it my best. “Dogs do appear in many of the paintings. Most of them are greyhounds, actually. That one over there,” –I pointed to a portrait of a fawn greyhound lying down— “was a special pet because they marked her grave with a carved statue and her name—Zulekia. I can show you on our next walk. I think I remember my uncle saying something about the Rothvale estate in Warwickshire breeding racing dogs at one time. But when I was a boy, and came here to stay, I used to count the animals in the paintings. The people were never as interesting to me as the creatures. And I have to say, animals were depicted a lot, and you see them everywhere in the collection. Dogs, horses, birds, cats, fish, and even one of a little girl with her pet rabbit.”
Christ, I was blabbering like a fool, but Gabrielle didn’t seem to mind even a tiny bit. She just listened to me as she studied the walls, smiling when she came to something that caught her eye in particular. It all worked in my favor anyway. I could observe and enjoy the pretty view that was Gabrielle Hargreave to my heart’s content. And think about how good it would be when I had her underneath me again, all submissive and soft. I was determined not to blow it with her again. I wasn't losing her a third time. “Right. I almost forgot to mention, there's more paintings down in storage beyond what is on display in this room,” I told her.
“Awww, I want to see the little girl with the pet rabbit,” she commented while continuing to study what was in front of her, proving she could do two things at once. “And you do realize you’re taking me down to storage after this, right?” She looked over at me hopefully.
“Yeah, sure.” I knew how private it was down in the room where the excess art was stored and felt my cock wake up at the thought. Gabrielle returned her attention to her task, moving from painting to painting without urgency. She was something to watch in action. The scrutiny and attention she gave to each canvas was calculated. I could almost see the cogs turning as she took mental pictures and created a database in her head. “I'm going to leave you to it for a bit. I have some work that needs my attention and now is as good a time as ever. Are you all right in here on your own?”