“You?” She seemed indignant.
Obviously, she didn’t understand the depth of his learning. “I’m not a novice. I’ve studied art history and have purchased antiques for both houses.” Rising to his full height, a good foot above her, he looked down at the pint-sized genius with his most professorial stare.
“Here’s a simple question, then. What is the main difference between two of the most popular artists from the Impressionist period, Manet and Monet?” She crossed her arms and held his gaze without a flicker of nerves.
“Simple. Monet painted mostly landscapes, while Manet created many war scenes.”
She shook her head. “Monet painted primarily outdoors and the lighting in his work reflects this, while most of Manet’s paintings were created in a studio.”
“Who the bloody hell will be asking me that sort of thing?”
“Someone like me.”
They enjoyed the rest of the afternoon together. When they returned to the house, Henry removed himself to his study, and Gabe ventured off to explore more of the gardens. Before he had a chance to sit at his desk, Simon called looking for more information on her. Henry refused to interrogate her. She was beginning to trust him, and he’d already assured her she’d be safe with him.
After putting off Simon, he pulled up a spreadsheet on his laptop, showing the finances of the Ripon Women’s Group. They needed him, and he needed the painting. The painting, through some strange yet miraculous maneuvering by his mother’s solicitor, belonged to him and not the family trust. The rest of his assets were tied up for the benefit of future Chiltons.
A multimillionaire on paper, he couldn’t fix a broken water heater at the castle without begging Mr. Martin Baum, the trustee of the Chilton Family Trust, for the funds. Even then, Martin took sadistic pleasure in dangling the carrot just out of reach ever since Henry’s refusal to marry Martin’s vexatious sister Hazel. With the family trust money more fiercely guarded than the Crown Jewels, Henry had limited options. His salary from Oxford barely supported the house there.
The insurance on the painting was currently worthless, since an insurance claim for a huge loss filed at the moment he needed money would be processed with greater scrutiny. The company could even bring him up on charges of insurance fraud. Not the public relations exposure the Ripon Women’s Group needed to move forward and help more families. No, he wouldn’t be reporting the theft just yet.
And thanks to Mr. Baum’s tightwad attitude, Henry had never supported any of the many causes his friends championed, minus the occasional benefit dinner and such, so they’d never responded to his requests for assistance.
His only hope for funds resided in the painting. Later, when people learned of the women and children benefiting from the charity, they’d want to assist in making it more successful. Only then could he build an adequate endowment.
He rubbed his temples and turned toward a footstep behind him. Gabe, standing at the door, appeared innocent, sexy, and dangerous all rolled into a sinfully tight body. Her tousled black strands created an edgy appearance and the black eye makeup had returned. Even in jeans, ugly red trainers, and a sweatshirt, the woman tempted him.
“Am I disturbing you?” she asked.
“Yes, but I appreciate your brand of disturbance.”
She smiled and entered the room.
In that moment, he would do anything to keep that ephemeral smile from disappearing. He looked at his watch. They had enough time to eat and run into town. “Don’t get comfortable. We need to have a quick dinner.”
“Why?”
“You’ll see.” He stood and escorted her to the dining room. After escaping from hell, she needed to do something enjoyable, and Henry wanted to see her relax, if only for a moment.
Two hours later, at a quarter of nine, he stood with Gabe in front of the city hall of Ripon. A tour bus pulled into town, and a crowd formed around the city center. Then the official town horn blower arrived in full regalia, a black tricorne hat, beige coat with red embellishments, and an elaborately decorated horn. He sounded a low tune on each of the four corners of the obelisk, and then reported to the mayor, stating, “The watch is set.”
Henry loved how day after day, year after year, century after century, the tradition continued. He glanced at Gabe, who stood mesmerized by the simple ceremony. “What do you think?”
“I enjoyed it. Does he do this every Sunday night?”
“He does this every night. Rain, snow, bitter cold.”
He took off his jacket and placed it over Gabe’s shoulders.
“Thanks.”
“Let’s go for a pint.” Henry slipped his arm under his jacket and around her waist. Even through the sweatshirt, he could feel the chill in her body. They headed toward the Hornblower Tavern.
Once inside, Gabe rubbed her hands together and scanned the pub from the bar to the tables. “Can we take one of the round booths? They look warmer.”
“Absolutely.” He sat next to her on a curved cushioned bench, and then waved the waitress over. “Kate, two pints of your winter draft and some chips.”
The waitress, wearing black trousers and a too-tight T-shirt, winked at him. “Sure thing, Henry.”
“Sure thing, Henry,” Gabe repeated, all attitude.
Henry couldn’t suppress his grin. “It’s my hometown. I bet if I go to your hometown, wherever that is, everyone would know you, too.”
“Not really.” She wouldn’t add anything else. Instead, she flipped through the menu and observed the crowd.
Kate returned with the pints and bent close to Henry, offering him a view of those assets she’d barely covered in the T-shirt. He shifted his attention to the more subtle beauty of the woman seated next to him. Gabe, eyebrows raised and lips pursed, remained focused on their server.