An Irresistible Bachelor (An Unforgettable Lady #2)(84)

Both Jack and Callie turned their heads.

“How do you know?” he demanded.

“I have some expertise in American history,” Grace replied with a dry grin. “There are very few portraits of the general’s wife. Maybe two at the most, one of which happens to be a miniature owned by the Hall Collection. She most certainly was a blonde.”

“So who the hell is that?” Jack asked, frowning.

“Are you sure the letters make reference to the general?” When Jack nodded, Grace said, “Then it could be his daughter, Anne. She was a brunette, took after her father in that regard.”

“Really?”

Grace nodded and looked up at the ceiling, tapping one high-heeled shoe.

“Let me see if I can do the math properly. This portrait was done in 1775. Anne would have been sixteen, I think, and Nathaniel Walker would have been about twenty. That sounds on the young side now for a love affair, but back then, girls were married off in their teens regularly.” She looked at Jack. “General Rowe’s writings suggest he was very protective of his daughter. At one point, I recall reading that he wanted Anne to pursue a spiritual life, and I take that to mean he might even have pushed her to join a religious order. I can certainly see why, if she were falling in love with Nathaniel, she’d want to keep it from her father. At least until there was an engagement and it would be too late.” Grace’s eyes went to Nathaniel’s face. “But Anne died in 1775, if I remember correctly. Of typhus. Quite a tragedy. Her father never recovered.”

They all stared at the painting.

“Perhaps,” Callie said softly, “her image was too hard for Nathaniel to bear so he had it covered up.”

“It would explain a lot,” Grace hazarded. “Especially why it took Nathaniel so long to marry. It was twenty years later when he finally walked down the aisle with Jane Hatte.”

“Christ,” Jack muttered under his breath. “What a story.”

Grace put her hand on his arm. “But you really should show those letters to a few more people first. All we have is a theory at this time.”

“I have a feeling that we’re right,” he murmured.

Grace checked her watch and smiled. “Well, unless you have any other mysteries to solve, I better get changed. The party starts in an hour, right?”

Jack nodded and gave her a kiss on the cheek. “Thanks, Grace.”

“No problem. Just remember to pick up the phone the next time I call you for investment advice.”

“Deal.”

After Grace left, Jack went back to staring at the portrait. “You’ve done wonderful work.”

Callie’s laugh was awkward. “That’s kind of you to say considering the mistake I made.”

“But you’ve transformed the painting. He has such life in him now. Before, he seemed so gloomy, but now I see him differently. He seems younger, more vibrant. You’ve done very well.”

“I’ve just revealed what Copley did.” She walked over to Jack, catching the scent of his aftershave. It hurt just to breathe in the smell. “Look, if there is any diminution in value, I will make you whole.”

“Make me whole.” His laugh was short. “What an interesting choice of words, considering I’ve recently concluded that filling up a bank account doesn’t work for me like it used to.”

When he looked at her, his eyes were so dark, it was as if there were no color in them at all.

“Forget about the problem with the painting and keep your money.” He nodded down at the portrait. “All you really have left to do is put on a new coat of varnish, right?”

She nodded.

“And then you’re finished.”

“I am.” A yearning tightened her chest. “Jack, I really want to end up in Boston after the job is finished.”

She waited for him to respond, but he just turned away.

“See you back at the house,” he said.





22


STARTING AT six o’clock, a steady stream of cars began to arrive at Buona Fortuna. From the window seat in her bedroom, Callie watched them come up the lighted drive, disappear under the porte cochere, and then get parked by uniformed attendants on the lawn. They were a fleet of luxury, every make and model that cost an arm and a leg. She even thought she’d made out a Bentley or two.

All those flashy cars were not inspiring her to join the party. She imagined the people getting out of them were every bit as glamorous as their choice of transportation. As someone who avoided crowds to begin with, getting thrown in with a bunch of corporate raiders and beauty queens was like the second ring of Hell to her, and she was debating the merits of hiding in her room. It smacked of cowardice, sure, but she was almost guaranteed to have a better time.

Besides, she wasn’t feeling festive. When she’d come back from the garage, she’d gone upstairs looking for Grace. The door to her half sister’s room had been shut, however, and the sensual, masculine laughter coming through the panels didn’t prompt a good knocking. Callie had gone to her room to change, resolving to talk to Grace the minute the party was over.

She looked down at her black skirt, the one she’d worn out to dinner with Gray. Twice.

The one that Jack had taken off her body that first night they’d made love.