Breathing heavily, Hector removed himself from Quentin, his muscles bulging. Goodness, it was the wrong moment, but he looked so handsome, all bothered and angry. Her lady’s parts tingled.
She waited for Hector to release Lord Quentin before placing a hand on the painting. “We agree to your terms if you agree to give me this painting.”
Lord Quentin laughed and patted his hair into place. “Ridiculous. What does that horrible painting have to do with anything?”
Maddie shrugged. “If you don’t like it, why do you care?”
He showed his teeth, not smiling anymore. “That worthless painting stays here.”
“If it’s worthless…” She snatched a poker from the hearth and pointed it at the painting. “I guess that if I scratch it, you wouldn’t care.” She hoped he did something to stop her because she’d have a fit if she ruined Mrs. Blanchet’s masterpiece.
“You silly bitch!” He lunged, but Hector was ready and tackled him with one smooth move.
She winced as a thud resounded when Hector slammed Lord Quentin on the floor. “I’m going to take this painting, Lord Quentin, becauseThe Lady of the Lakeis underneath it. Don’t deny it. I have proof.” She didn’t, and her voice shook when she said it, but hey, she had to play the part.
Under Hector’s weight, Lord Quentin paled. “You are bluffing.” He lacked his usual smugness.
“I’m not, Lord Quentin.” She trailed the tip of the poker over the painting. “You made me desperate, and I’m ready to ruinThe Lady of the Lakeunless you do as we say.” Not that she knew what that was. What were the terms she should propose?
Hector grabbed him by the collar and raised him, saving her from having to find a solution. “Destroy Verity’s pictures and leave my title to me, and we won’t involve the police.”
Maddie shifted her weight. Hector’s proposal was good, and yet she wanted to involve the police and see Lord Quentin behind bars. But dragging him to court would likely mean having to show those pictures for the inquest. Oh, bother.
Lord Quentin closed his eyes and sagged against Hector. “Why couldn’t you stay on that damn island?”
Still holding the poker, Maddie loomed over him. “Why the code?” She had to ask just in case she was wrong.
He shrugged himself free from Hector’s grip, his hair dishevelled. “It wasn’t my idea.” His upper lip went up in a snarl. “There are five more paintings identical to that one.”
“Good gracious.” She put a hand on her chest. More ugly paintings around? It was like a disease.
“Annabelle—”
“Annabelle?” she and Hector said together.
“She wants a share but doesn’t trust me. That’s why she marked the painting to make sure I didn’t sell it and replace with a copy. It’s a special paint, the one with the title. It can’t be deleted.”
“Mrs. Blanchet will be happy to have her painting back.” Maddie dropped the poker and allowed herself to smile at the ugly painting. She felt vindicated because no artist would have ever produced something so horrible. The painting was only a disguise, clever but still as ugly as starvation.
Hector swept her off her feet. “Marry me,” he said with his usual honesty.
She laughed, bursting with love. “Yes, with all my heart.”
Quentin rolled his eyes. “I might vomit.”
“Cousin, don’t look so sad,” Hector said. “It’s only a business transaction.”
epilogue
THE LADY OF the Lake.
Finally, the stunning painting was fully exposed in all its beauty after days of careful work to remove the ugly canvas on top of it. Maddie’s breath hitched as she admired the masterpiece. Those strokes of blue and silver were exquisitely done. The lady in the centre of the painting had a tragic yet determined expression that pierced her heart. How could Mrs. Blanchet capture such a heartbreaking moment with the right light and just a few strokes?
She couldn’t believe that Mrs. Blanchet had gifted her with the precious painting.The Lady of the Lakenow hung in Hector’s office, surrounded by the soft light of the gas lamps. She admired it while she contracted her fingers around a ball made of sponge. It was harder than it looked and sometimes the exercise pained her, but her fingers grew stronger with each passing day. Her strokes on her drawings were more precise, she felt more confident, and her work got better. That was why the academy had accepted her request to become a student. Speaking of which. She had a pile of books to read.
She propped her hips on Hector’s desk as he was busy reading his own pile of books and documents. Among them lay a draft of the island book, as it was called for now. Her sketches and his words had produced a rich story that a few publishers had already expressed interest in publishing.
“I have to read five books by the end of this month. Can you believe it?” she asked.
