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"Monsieur Sardo," Eric began, leveling his gaze at the artist. "I fear I've made an imprudent decision. Perhaps it would be best if you didn't—"
"I understand, sir," André interrupted hastily. "You have a commitment—one you need to fulfill. Forgive my presumptuousness. Of course my sessions with Lady Noelle can wait a week or two." His brow furrowed ever so slightly. "The only excuse I can offer for my impatience—other than being eager to paint so lovely a young woman as your daughter—is that my debts are—" He broke off. "Never mind. That is no concern of yours. Again, my apologies." He made a move toward the door.
"Wait." Whatever Eric had been about to say was silenced by André's reluctant admission—an admission that plainly reminded Eric why he'd agreed to this arrangement in the first place. He reached into his pocket, extracted a twenty-pound note, and pressed it into the artist's palm. "You're quite correct—this commitment is important. But so is the commitment I made to you. I hadn't considered the fact that you might not receive any payment until the painting was under way. So, here. This will cover any inconvenience a two-week delay might cost you."
André's pupils widened with astonishment. "Your generosity is humbling, my lord. I don't know quite what to say."
"You needn't say anything. Just remember the stipulations I put forth earlier. And keep in mind that this is a business arrangement. I hope that's entirely clear." A meaningful pause before Eric continued. "As for timing, Noelle will begin posing for you directly after we return from Markham. I'll send a message advising you once we're home and settled. Until then—good day, Monsieur Sardo."
Thoughtfully, André rubbed the pound note between his tapered fingers. Then he bowed, slipping the bill into his pocket. "Of course, my lord. As you wish." His velvety brown eyes swept the room, lingering briefly on Noelle. "I'll look forward to hearing from you soon."
* * *
Darkness had just blanketed the streets of London when André knocked at the rear door of the Franco Gallery. He brushed a few stray snowflakes off his coat, turning up his collar against the January chill.
An instant later Williams admitted him. "He's awaiting you in his office" was all he said.
André nodded, walking past Williams and going directly across the hall. His purposeful rap was answered with an equally purposeful "Come in."
He complied, stepping into the office and readying himself for the conversation that was about to take place.
"At last." Baricci rose from behind his desk, an expectant look on his face. "What happened?"
"Your daughter is breathtaking." André went to the sideboard, poured himself a generous glass of Madeira. "This assignment is truly going to be a labor of love."
Baricci made an impatient sound and waved away André's admission. "I didn't ask for an assessment of Noelle's attributes. Although I do agree that her beauty and fire should make your task a good deal more enjoyable. And believable. Tell me what Farrington said."
A deep swallow of Madeira. "He was reluctant, just as you suspected. Until I spoke of my poverty, my near-destitution. That did the trick." André turned and raised his glass with a flourish. "Your gift has been accepted. The commission is mine."
"Excellent." Baricci rubbed his palms together. "When do you begin?"
"That is the only catch, other than Farrington's annoying protectiveness. Protectiveness, incidentally, that extended to his demanding that Noelle's lady's maid be present during our sittings. Ridding myself of this maid, getting Noelle alone is going to be quite a challenge."
"In that case, there will be quite a profit—even greater than originally promised."
André's eyes gleamed. "I'm glad to hear it."
"The other catch you spoke of?" Baricci prompted.
"Ah, yes. That. It seems the entire Bromleigh family will be away for a good portion of the week after next. Lord Farrington announced that I won't be starting the portrait until they return."
"I see." Baricci pursed his lips. "I suppose we'll have to be patient, then. I'm not pleased about the delay, but at least I know Noelle will be unreachable—by anyone."
"Think again." André steeled himself for the inevitable reaction. "You haven't yet asked where they're going. Nor will you like my reply. They've been invited to the Duke and Duchess of Markham's charity affair."
Thunder erupted on Baricci's face. "Dammit." He slammed his fist to the desk. "That son-of-a-bitch Thornton is the fastest, most resourceful—"
"Yes, Farrington also believes Lord Tremlett had a hand in this. He as much as said so. And if it's any consolation to you, Eric Bromleigh isn't a big fan of his either."
"Probably because he fears Thornton intends to bed Noelle. Which I'm sure he does—and will, given half a chance." Baricci sucked in his breath, visibly regaining his composure. "Fine. The Markham charity event lasts three days. It's also attended by hundreds of guests. Which makes Thornton's goal virtually impossible. He'd have to steal Noelle out from under Eric Bromleigh's vigilant eye, whisk her away from crowds of guests, and seduce her—all in a matter of days. I doubt even the accomplished Lord Tremlett can manage that."
A sudden, palatable option caused Baricci's spirits to lift. "I, on the other hand, am being granted three days without Tremlett's insufferable presence," he murmured, his eyes beginning to gleam. "That means no questions, no prying, no scrutiny. Imagine how much I can accomplish in that amount of time."
"You're planning another theft?" André inquired, calmly finishing his Madeira.
"Oh, indeed I am." Baricci strolled around front of his desk. "I lost the Gainsborough. I intend to make up for that with another, even more valuable painting. And now appears to be the perfect time to procure that painting; while Tremlett is away and the authorities are still immersed in their investigation to recover the Gainsborough."
"Which work of art have you selected this time?"
