Page 69 of Eternal Obsession

“How long have you had Belshazzar’s Feast within your collection?” I asked him.

Mr. Teddington appeared to think on this for a moment. “I believe it arrived just after your Raphael was presented, certainly within a week.”

My head spun. Orpheus was playing with me. “Do you happen to have the name of the gentleman who it belongs to?” I asked.

“Like yourself, he’s a private collector. He did mention to me that he owned a club in Belgravia. I believe he said that it was on Chesham Place. Does that help?”

“The name of the club?” I asked.

“It’s named after the painting—Belshazzar’s.”

I hoped they’d missed my reaction and cleared my throat. “Please excuse us, Mr. Teddington, we have a prior dinner engagement,” I said and guided Ingrid out of the room and through the long corridors until we reached the gallery foyer.

“That man will talk me into giving up my entire collection if I’m not careful,” I said, smiling though my heart pounded. Orpheus had positioned the painting in order to get my attention.

He was keeping track of me.

Ingrid frowned. “I believe art should be enjoyed by everyone.”

“Of course.” I hung my head thoughtfully.

“You have more paintings hidden away?”

“It has been a delight.” I shook Ingrid’s hand. I headed for the gallery exit. “Enjoy the rest of your tour.”

“So dinner’s off, then?” she called after me.

I turned toward the fresh-faced woman.

Ingrid blushed. “You just escorted me to the door.”

“I did, didn’t I?”

“I would love to talk more about Raphael. I didn’t mean to be forward,” Ingrid said. “It’s just that you seem so knowledgeable about art and it’s such a refreshing change from my world.”

She was certainly convincing. I tried not to stare but my gaze wandered over her figure.

Her eyes reflected that she had noticed. “Perhaps you’re like me and don’t get out much,” she said.

I smiled. “I would very much like to take you out to dinner.” I tried to shake off this sudden desire.

Ingrid beamed.

No, this wasn’t supposed to happen, and yet, I found myself gesturing for her to exit the doorway first, unable to resist stealing a few more moments with this mesmerizing stranger.

I hailed a taxi to the Strand’s Savoy Hotel. On our arrival, I escorted Ingrid to the hotel’s restaurant, Simpson’s in the Strand. The maître d’ informed us that her attire of black trousers and leather jacket were unsuitable to dine at The Grand Divan. I offered my apologies to Ingrid. I had no idea that such rules were enforced. It was unusual for me to frequent these places. With a firm hand, I led Ingrid down the long corridor to the stores and small booths within the hotel lobby.

The fact that she was uncomfortable made me wonder what it was about overpowering her that gave me such a rush.

We entered the Versace store. Guessing her size, I took a dress from the rack and held it against her. Replacing it, I found another more suitable outfit.

“This one,” I offered her.

Ingrid glanced at the price tag.

“Consider it a gift,” I said.

“I can’t possibly.”