An Irresistible Bachelor (An Unforgettable Lady #2)(83)

Callie stared down at the work she’d done with Beauvais. What had been revealed was extraordinary.

In the flat plane of the mirror, there was a miniature portrait of a dark-haired woman. Both she and Beauvais had agreed that the depiction was undoubtedly Copley’s work. First of all, the brushwork was obviously in the master’s style. And secondly, following the stripping process, it became clear that the lower paint layer was made of precisely the same kind of elements as the rest of the portrait’s oils.

What was likewise interesting was that the paint that had bubbled up and been removed appeared under the microscope to also be of the same composition and age as everything else. The appropriate inference to be made, therefore, was that Copley had painted the image and someone, probably him, had covered it up relatively contemporaneously.

Beauvais had been delighted by the discovery. Tickled pink, as he’d put it.

Callie was enthralled because she knew about the letters and was tempted to find a connection between the mystery woman and the love affair that had been hinted at in the old pieces of correspondence. The date on the portrait was 1775, so it could have been painted while Nathaniel was consorting with the beautiful Mrs. Rowe, because the Battle of Concord was waged that year. All it would take to establish whether the woman was in fact the general’s wife would be a comparison between the depiction in the mirror and an existing portrait of her.

As for the rest of the conservation project, Jack needed to see the woman’s face and consider whether he wanted the mirror’s image covered up once again. He might well decide to preserve his ancestor’s untarnished reputation, and Callie would support him in whatever he chose to do. The urge to hide a family’s immoral past was something she was very familiar with. Given her own commitment and sacrifices to protect her father, she couldn’t very well fault Jack if he chose a similar path.

While waiting, she looked outside. Trucks and vans had been pulling up to the back door all day long as food for the party was delivered. She’d assumed there were going to be a lot of people coming, but there seemed to be enough supplies to feed an army going into Thomas’s kitchen.

After checking her watch, she walked over to the second bin of documents and decided to get to work. She was about halfway done with what was left in the Rub-bermaid container. If she wanted to finish the sorting before she left, she had to get going on it because she was almost done with the portrait.

It was hard to believe, but a small part of Nathaniel’s hand was all she had left to clean. Depending on what Jack decided to do about the woman’s face, she might be finished as quickly as tomorrow or the day after. If there was no repainting to be done, the final step of the conservation would just be the application of a fresh coat of varnish, and that would not take long.

Sitting down on the couch, she began to methodically sort, page by page, the remaining documents. She was scanning a letter of credit from 1929 when Jack and Grace both came up the stairs. She put down what she was reading and rose to her feet.

“So what have we got?” Jack asked briskly.

He was still in his suit, but had taken off the jacket and the tie. The pale pink button-down he was wearing made his hair and his eyes look especially dramatic.

“See for yourself,” she said softly, nodding to the painting.

As they looked over the portrait, Grace gasped. “Oh, my God. It’s a woman’s face.”

Callie measured Jack’s reaction. His brows dropped low over his eyes as he studied the canvas, but she couldn’t tell whether he was upset or intrigued.

“Well, that’s a bit of a surprise, isn’t it,” he said casually. And then he looked at her. “And it sheds some light on those letters.”

“Letters?” Grace questioned. “There’s more than the one you told me about?”

Callie nodded while Jack spoke.

“I’d found one with a similar tone years ago, and if they are indeed a pair, it appears that Nathaniel might have had an affair with, or at the very least a romantic interest in, the wife of General Rowe.” He looked back down at the painting.

“What are you going to do?” Callie asked him. “Do you want to have the face covered up again?”

There was a long pause.

“Even if it is General Rowe’s wife, I think not.” As she glanced at him in surprise, he shrugged. “Whatever the implications, I believe the portrait wouldn’t be authentic without it.”

Grace frowned. “These letters, you’re sure they’re between him and the general’s wife?”

“You should look at them yourself,” he said, “but the circumstantial evidence suggests it was her.”

“And you think this woman”—Grace pointed at the painting—“is the one he was in love with? Sarah Rowe?”

Callie interjected. “The general’s wife was a known associate of Copley’s, right? I mean, there are notes in Copley’s journals that stated she often visited his studio before he left for London because she dabbled in painting as well. Nathaniel commissioned this portrait. It’s not inconceivable that he’d put his lady love’s face in it but, because of the clandestine love between them, have it covered up. A secret pledge of his feelings, perhaps. Quite romantic, actually. And the timing’s right—1775.”

Grace laughed softly. “That’s a fine theory and I don’t doubt some of its merits. There’s only one problem. The general’s wife was a blonde.”