“Of course.” She turned to me and gave up the most beautiful smile, the happiness on her lovely face evident. “Thank you, Ivan—for this—this amazing opportunity. I really just need an hour or two to take some pictures and make some preliminary notes. But I don’t even have my phone with me, let alone a camera.” She seemed frustrated. Of course she was. Our things hadn’t arrived from Hallborough yet.
“Here, use mine and you can send them to yourself when you’ve got what you need.” I handed over my mobile and gave her the code to unlock it. “Feel free to take one of your tits if you get bored with the paintings,” I told her with a straight face as I backed toward the door. “I’ll be in my study which is on this floor but it’s the opposite wing from here if you decide to go exploring,” I offered.
“Ahhh, that’s so very sweet of you, Lord Rothvale, but I can say with confidence that there is absolutely no chance I will get bored with your paintings, so that means equally no chance you’ll find any pics of my tits on here when you get this back,” she said smugly as she held up my mobile, her smirk revealing how much she clearly enjoyed teasing me.
“Ahh, a pity, Miss Hargreave, a tragic pity indeed.” I put a fist to my heart, playing along. “Now that you’ve crushed my hopes, I have no choice but to leave you to your work.” I gave her a formal head bow.
She was still laughing at my sincere request for a titty shot when I closed the door behind me, appreciating her sense of humor and wickedly sharp wit. She was the perfect woman, really. She was perfect for me.
Gabrielle Hargreave was a beautiful creature inside and out. Intelligent, kind, and genuine. Everything she should be. And by the gods I wanted to keep her. I could only pray it took her a long time to do whatever the hell needed to be done with the paintings here at Donadea.
A very long, fucking time.
GABRIELLE
My eyes could barely take in what my eyes were privileged enough to be seeing right now. Ladies playing cards, as Ivan had mentioned to me earlier. It was so breathtakingly gorgeous I could do nothing but stare and appreciate it for just the aesthetic value alone. This one was special without a doubt.
It was also another uncatalogued Mallerton, because I could clearly make out his signature at the bottom. That was three Mallerton’s so far, if I counted the one at Hallborough, and I’d barely scratched the surface of Donadea’s art collection. There was more down in storage, too, according to Ivan. My mind started churning as I replayed all my discoveries today. And it had only been a few hours so far. The sheer quantity of paintings Donadea contained was nearly incomprehensible considering the collection was unknown to the art world. Being in this gallery and seeing the paintings on the walls was like watching a treasure chest being unearthed and broken open after having been buried in a cave for decades.
Ivan, a.k.a. Lord Rothvale was probably the most shocking news I’d gotten. Ivan Everley is the current Lord Rothvale. The blood descendant and heir of the man who’d made Tristan Mallerton into the Great Master that he was. This very house had belonged to that other Lord Rothvale, so it was the logical conclusion that Mallerton had likely visited and worked here at Donadea at some point in his life. Mallerton had been very close with Lord and Lady Rothvale IX, considered as one of the family.
But this—this canvas of magnificence before me—was a true gem. I took several photos with Ivan’s mobile before opening the AudioNote app to record my major observations. My voice sounded giddy even to my ears as I described the painting. Three young women, one blonde and the other two with dark hair, in frothy pale dresses encrusted with bows and yards of delicate silk embellishments sat at a felt card table playing…whist maybe? It was cleverly done too. One of the girls showed her winning hand slyly so the observer could see what she held. Three hearts were displayed along with a knowing expression on her face, the others pleasantly unaware they were about to lose to her.
And the girl showing her hand was indeed one and the same person as Mrs. Gravelle, the bride on the white horse in the painting I’d found this morning decorating the staircase. It made perfect sense that the lovely Mrs. Gravelle had been a relative of Lady Rothvale IX if she was portrayed in at least two separate works of Mallerton on display in this house. The blonde at the card table looked like she could be Lady Rothvale IX from what I could recall from memory. They were all beautiful and young, passing time in one of the approved pursuits for women in their social standing during the era. I wanted to know more about them, their names, their families, how they had lived. Mallerton’s work always made you want to know more about the people he had painted.
I really wanted to send a picture of the ladies at cards to Brynne, but I wouldn’t. She was off enjoying the start of her honeymoon and I had no business distracting her with work right now. Also, I wasn’t ready to disclose exactly where I was or what I was doing there. Because I’d have to explain who I was with, and it would just invite a lot of questions I didn't want to answer right now. Hell, I probably didn’t even know the answers to their questions anyway.
What in the world are you doing here?
I grimaced at the thought of having to face Ben once I got back to London. He was going to give me hell for sure about Ivan, and I knew he wouldn’t let it go until he got some details from me either. That was gonna be fun. Not.
So, I made a snap decision. It would be best to gain a better idea of the collection as a whole first, before going public with it. Yes. That made the most logical sense. I roved my eyes longingly over the ladies once more and just enjoyed its beauty for a moment. Utter brilliance and uniquely witty in subject matter, as only Tristan Mallerton could pull off and make it look effortless. People would go nuts when they got a glimpse of this painting. A shiver came over me at the magnitude of just this one discovery. I still couldn't really grasp the entirety of what I was looking at with my own eyes.
A powerful feeling came over my body and held me in place as if my boots were fitted with lead weights. I stood still, unable to take a single step. I could only move my eyes around the room and try to understand the vast collection of priceless works.
Interpretation with paint upon canvas…telling story, after story, after story.
Because every painting had a story. I knew I needed to learn as much as possible about the story each painting had locked inside it. I knew something else too.
More Mallerton’s had yet to be revealed.
They were here at Donadea waiting patiently for me to find them.
I knew it down deep in my bones.
Chapter 7
IVAN
Gabrielle was still at it when I came back two hours later. The only difference was she’d worked her way to the other side of the room from when I’d left her. “You were right, Ivan,” she said dreamily while looking up at the dog painting I’d mentioned to her earlier.
“Of course, I was right,” I said, not caring I had no idea at all what she meant. She was pleased and that was good enough for me. I came up behind her and put my hands over her shoulders, unable to keep them to myself a moment longer. She leaned back into me and tilted her head, giving me access in a perfect gesture, letting me know she wanted my touch. It was useless for me to try to resist her, so I didn’t even consider it. Instead, I spent the next minute running my lips over the delicious curve of her neck and enjoying her response to my efforts. My curiosity eventually got the better of me though. "What was I right about?"