Last Night With the Earl_Includes a bonus novella by Kelly Bowen

Author:Kelly Bowen [Bowen, Kelly]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Grand Central Publishing
Published: 2018-09-25T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 16

A small crystal dish of cards bearing the now-familiar crown emblem sat on the edge of the massive mahogany desk. But Rose barely noticed, so overwhelmed was she with the masterpieces that graced the walls around her. An art dealer, was how Eli had described the man they had come to see, one through whom most of Eli’s collection had been accrued. A man from whom anything might be had for a price. A man as famous for his fine tastes and extravagance as he was for the shadows that concealed his past.

Rose circled the room, drawn again to the wide canvas that dominated the wall across from the desk, and ignored Eli, who was pacing beside her. As a student in Italy, she’d been told that this painting had been lost. She’d seen a copy of its sister image, but that work had not possessed the aura of…ruthless purpose that this one did. A young woman, depicted in a black dress and wearing an expression of chilling detachment, stood over a prostrate man, his mouth open in a silent scream. With one hand the woman shoved the man’s head back, and with the other she severed his neck with a gleaming blade. Beside her an old woman smiled, clutching a bag and whispering encouragement in her ear.

“Do you like it, Miss Hayward?”

The question came from the doorway, and, a little unnerved, Rose turned from the painting to find a man watching her with keen interest. Beside her, Eli coiled like a panther about to spring.

“King,” Eli said, his greeting lacking any warmth.

The dealer acknowledged Eli and then returned his attention to Rose. “Well?”

“It’s one of his best, I think,” Rose replied slowly, eyeing the man who was walking into the room. He was fair, with reddish-gold hair that was reminiscent of the early Tudors framing pale-blue eyes set in an austere face. He was impeccably dressed, one hand resting atop an ebony walking stick.

“Rubens, you mean,” he said.

“No. Caravaggio.”

“Ah.” A red-gold eyebrow rose in approval, as though she had just passed a test of some sort. “For the record, I had the Rubens, but I sold it. This rendition of Judith beheading Holofernes is much more…visceral.”

Rose didn’t answer but merely glanced at the painting again and wondered just how this man knew who she was.

“You do not find the violence distasteful?” he inquired.

“Distasteful? Holofernes was about to destroy her home and her people. Judith did what needed to be done.”

“As do we all,” the man murmured. “Well said, Miss Hayward.” He cleared his throat and turned his attention to Eli. “It took you long enough to get here, Lord Rivers.”

“I beg your pardon?” Eli’s voice was like gravel.

The man strolled across his office and settled himself gracefully behind his desk. “I wasn’t sure you were ever coming back from that miserable little farm in Belgium.”

Rose heard Eli suck in a breath.

“Oh, don’t look so surprised, Lord Rivers,” the man chastised. “You can’t honestly believe your solicitors, whose names I scrawled on those documents, actually had the wherewithal to find you.

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