Chapter Six
M ortified, that was how Delia felt. She’d used Gabriel to keep her boss happy and her job prospects good. That necklace would better not be some sort of cheap replica. It’d better be worth a shed load of money. At least then Gabriel would get something out of the bloody Renwood Longevity Project.
John had been exultant when he’d received the second set of teeth while dishing out stupid remarks of her having ‘the touch.’ Maybe sitting for another three to four portrait sessions would help expiate her sin.
At least her visits cheered Gabriel. He’d told her his mum had died ten years previously, and he was an only child. He must be so lonely and up to his neck in a financial mess.
She saved her document and shut the laptop. Time to get ready for another stint at pretending to be an artist’s model.
No need to rush, though. Her little Fiat would get her there in ten minutes.
The moment she entered the tree-lined country lane that led to Renwood Hall, her heart lifted.
Rolling hills as far as the eye could see, and nestled among them was the baroque manor house Gabriel was fighting so hard to save.
“So good to see you.” He took her by both hands and led her into the corridor.
She raised her eyebrows. “You’re chirpy today.”
“And I have reason to be.” His face was bright with joy. “You may very well have saved Renwood Hall with your request for more teeth.”
“The necklace?”
“I had it cleaned, valued, and insured. It’s worth around two-hundred-fifty-thousand pounds and covers the entire cost of a new roof for the Hall. It’s a miracle, and all thanks to you.”
She fought a blush but was losing the struggle. “No, thanks to your ancestor who thought nothing of burying two-hundred-and-fifty grand with his wife.”
They’d reached the green drawing room. He walked over to the mantelpiece, took a box of midnight-blue velvet off the mantelpiece, and snapped it open. Emmerentia’s necklace sparkled and shone on its bed of dark velvet, even more impressive than on the day they found it.
“Before this goes to the auction house, I want to paint it.” He brushed his fingers over the gems. There’s some family history attached to it.”
“Ah.”
“What I wanted to ask is, would you mind, would it be very distasteful to you to wear this for the portrait?”
A soft warmth pooled in her stomach. He was so conscientious, such a worrier. “Not at all. It’s just stones and metal.”
“Edwin adored his wife, according to family lore. He and Emmy only had sons, and I suspect he didn’t want any other woman to wear it. Ever. We’re going to have to disregard his wishes.”
“Ha. I guess he won’t care, and neither will she. They’re way beyond such earthly concerns, I’d imagine.”
He laughed. “I like your dispassionate view of things.”
“Do you mind putting it on me once I’ve changed into the dress? I’m a bit nervous about handling the equivalent of a sizeable deposit on a house.”
“Sure, but the necklace is in pretty good nick. Not much wear and tear in a casket.”
He left her to change, and when she called him back into the room, he approached her, holding the jewels.
“Now, brace yourself, it’s cold.” He closed the clasp at the nape of her neck, took a step back and gazed at her.
Under his scrutiny her heartrate accelerated. He could be intense at times. Must be the artist in him.
“The necklace is going to perfect the picture.” He moved toward the easel, picked up a brush and got to work.
She, cheerful and serene, enjoyed herself even though it continued to be awkward to stand still for such an extended period.
Part of the enjoyment was that she had no extra DNA requests from John.
Nothing to ask for, simply her time to give.
She smiled until she became aware that Gabriel was looking at her intently.
She glanced at him, and he started. “Sorry, that expression, it’s great, exactly what I was hoping to capture.”
She softened again, hoping it wouldn’t take too long to commit her facial expression to canvas.
“Tea break?” he asked, mere moments before the muscles in her cheek turned to stone.
“Oh, God, yes please.”
He wrinkled his brow. “Am I working you too hard?”
“Not at all, it’s quite relaxing in a way,” she said, not mentioning the muscle pain.
“Glad to hear it. I’ll get the tea, and I baked us a cake. I’d say we’re finished with the painting for the day since the light outside is so dull.”
“Cake. Wow, what’s the occasion?”
“Other than the discovery of the necklace? Well, we could also celebrate that we’re halfway through our sessions. I’m getting on famously, and you’ll be free before you know it.”
“I’ll miss our sittings.”
“Really?” His eyes lit up. “I was afraid I was torturing you.”
“And I sent you into the family vault. Twice.”
“If it wasn’t for you and your greed for Renwood DNA, we would never have found the necklace. Now, I have a realistic chance of saving this place.”
She crossed her arms and lifted her chin. “True, and this makes me feel very good.”
He grinned. “You’re always welcome to pop in for tea and biscuits or sometimes cake if I can manage.”
“Great, I’ll keep that in mind.” When their gazes met, heat rushed into her cheeks. “Now, where’s that cake I’ve been promised?”
“Ah, yes.” He stepped away from the easel so fast, he nearly pushed it over. “Back in a minute.”
“Wait.” Her voice came out louder than intended, and she cringed.
He stopped in his tracks.
“If we’re done for today, I might as well change. Will you...?” She pointed at her back.
“Yes, of course. Sorry, I didn’t think.” With a bit of wrangling, he loosened the zip, then left the room.
She stripped out of the ballgown and laid it on the chaise longue. Dressed in her own comfortable clothes, she ambled to the arm chair facing the fancy side table and sat.
A few moments later Gabriel returned with tea and cake.
“Chocolate fudge, my favorite.” She put a piece of the rich dark cake into her mouth. “Don’t give me cake every time I come over, or I’ll have to run extra laps around the playing fields to make sure I’ll still fit into your granny’s fancy gown.”
“I run as well; it’s the best way to exercise. No gym fees required.” He broke off a piece of cake with his fork and lifted it to his mouth, his tongue swiping across his bottom lip to catch a few stray chocolate crumbs.
She stared at him a beat too long before she caught herself. “And blessed silence instead of thumping music and the smell of other people’s sweat.”
They laughed.
“But isn’t it a bit repetitive to run around the playing fields? Or do you also use the path along the river?”
She chewed on another forkful of cake. “The river? Not the safest place if you’re female.”
His face became serious. “Oh, I’m sorry, I never even thought of that.
It’s an outrage that women can’t use public spaces safely.
” He tilted his head. “If you like, you can run here, in Renwood Park. It’s enclosed by a high wall.
I’ll give you the code to the gate. Feel free to come and go as you please. ”
“That’s so generous. It would be fantastic, but are you sure?” She leaned forward, her heart light in her chest. He was such a thoughtful man.
“Absolutely. While the park’s mine, it’s yours to use.”
“Goodness me.” She placed a palm on her sternum where warmth bloomed in her chest. “I feel very special now, to be able to run in a park nobody else has access to. Except you and your friends, of course.”
“By the way, I was wondering, since you’re here, would you like to see the original portrait of Edwin?” he asked.
She briefly touched his forearm. “Yes. Let’s see the man behind the DNA sequence.”
They went along the corridor leading to the vestibule and, from there, turned into another, wider hallway.
She suppressed the impulse to grab Gabriel’s sleeve so as not to get lost. “Whatever you do, don’t abandon me in here. I’ll never find my way out by myself.”
“The Hall is a bit of a maze at first glance, but you’ll get the hang of it, eventually.”
She was still puzzling out the meaning of the last part of his sentence, when they rounded a corner and entered the ancestor gallery. How would she get ‘the hang’ of Renwood Hall since they only had a couple of painting sessions left?
“This is the man himself.” He stopped in front of a full-length portrait of a gentleman wearing a tailored coat in navy blue, its large cuffs edged with gold embroidery.
Gray silken breeches covered his shapely legs, and he looked very much like Gabriel dressed up for some kind of historical re-enactment event. The same clean jawline, full sensual lips, and a mere hint of a cleft in his chin, with matching intensely blue eyes.
She twisted a strand of hair through her fingers and took a step back from the painting. The resemblance was positively wild, but the brass plaque beside it confirmed this was indeed Lord Edwin Kirwan, the third Earl of Renwood.
“His portrait was painted in 1766 by Angelica Kauffmann,” Gabriel said.
Does he expect me to know the artist? Well, she didn’t. Art history wasn’t her forte. She leaned closer to him. “And she would be...?”
“One of the most famous painters of her era. She was from Switzerland originally but lived and worked all over Europe, including England.”
“Pretty valuable piece of art then, wouldn’t it be?”
He laughed. “I can guess the direction your thoughts are taking, but even if I have to leave this house with nothing but the shirt on my back, I will not sell the two Kauffmanns.”
“Two?”
“Yes, the one next to his, Emmy’s portrait, is also painted by her.”
Delia moved to the painting of a tall, redhaired woman in a dusky blue floor-length gown of classicist silhouette. Her hair was piled up in a shower of curls, her neck adorned by the hessian emerald and diamond necklace, and soulful brown eyes gazed warmly at the viewer. “Wow. She was a beauty.”
He smiled. “You wouldn’t sell those two either, would you?”
“I suppose not, if I were able to imagine ever owning anything as beautiful or as valuable.”
They continued to stroll along the gallery, he detailing the odd colorful incident in this or that ancestor’s life and she following along. Most Renwoods were rosy, well-fed, and plain, but every couple of generations, the line produced a stunning creature like Edwin or, it had to be said, Gabriel.
Strange to think these pieces of art depicted his actual relatives—the gallery was one lavish family album.
“I can’t get my head around the fact that you’re related to all these people.” She bit her lip. That sounded stupid.
“Well, ah, I don’t have any emotional connection to most of them.” They came to stand before the portraits of a handsome couple in their forties. “Except for these two, of course,” he said, his voice small and low. “Delia, meet my parents, George and Julia Kirwan.”
Moved by the sadness in his eyes, she squeezed his upper arm. He was the last in a long line of Renwoods, and the burden of saving the family seat rested solely on his shoulders. “I’m sorry you lost them so early.”
He turned to her fully and took both her hands in his. “Thank you for your friendship.”
Caught in his intense gaze, she was lost for words.
“I, ah...” She pulled free from his grasp and walked over to his portrait. “Any Irish blood in the Renwood family?”
“Not that I know of.” He raised a quizzical eyebrow. “Why do you ask?”
“Your surname, Kirwan, one of the fourteen tribes of Galway.” Didn’t he know any of the history? His family name was common enough in Ireland.
“A tribe of Galway?”
“Yes, the Kirwans were Normanized Irish Gaels. I have an Irish granny, in case you’re marveling at my in-depth knowledge of Connaught surnames.” She left it there. No need to go into detail about how much she admired his Celtic coloring.
The patter of raindrops on glass panes made her aware of the change in the weather. She turned to the window facing his portrait and pressed her palms on the marble sill. “It’s lashing out there. Good thing our painting session was early today.”
“We have great timing.” He studied her face and didn’t make any move to end her visit.
Her heart thumped a little faster. She pushed away from the sill. “I’d better get home. There’s a pile of assignments I need to mark for tomorrow. Would you mind leading the way? I’ll never find the vestibule on my own.”
A warm laugh rolled from his throat. “No problem. Follow me.”