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“You’ve made your point, Lily.” He spoke gruffly. “But I see no harm in going riding with your sister tomorrow. I’ll speak to Xavier about it in the morning.”
“That sounds fine. Oh, Daniel!” Lily spied a portrait of two small boys on the far wall of the library. She hurried toward it to examine it more closely. The boys didn’t look to be more than four or five, and they were both beautiful, one with light chestnut hair and brown eyes, th
e other with blond hair and green eyes. “My God, that’s you, isn’t it?”
“Yes, that’s Morgan and me in 1825. I remember sitting for that damned portrait when all I wanted to do was play.”
Lily reached to explore the texture in her mind. “The technique is wonderful. It’s beautifully done, but the artist didn’t get the color of your eyes quite right, did he? It’s signed MLF. Who is that?”
“Morgana Landon Farnsworth. My mother.”
“Really? She is quite a talent, isn’t she, even if she didn’t do your eyes justice.”
“The eyes look all right to me,” Daniel said.
“How can you say that? Your mother is gifted, to be sure, but she made your eyes green.”
“My eyes are green.”
“Well, yes, but your eyes are unique. They’re not just garden-variety green. They’re deep and expressive, with hues of forest and blue and violet. I’ll have to try to recreate the color, if I can ever get my father to allow me to have some blasted oils.” Lily sighed softly. “My, you were a beautiful child. I just want to reach out and pinch those adorable little cheeks!”
“You’re welcome to pinch any part of me, Lily.” He grinned rakishly and put his arms around her.
“Daniel! Anyone could walk in.”
“I’m not sure I care,” he said, nuzzling her hair.
“You are a rogue! Now let go of me and show me some more art.”
“All right.” He led her to a beautiful oak table and pointed to an ornate coppery red vase. “This is from China, the Ming dynasty. It’s dated around 1500.”
“It’s lovely. I’ve heard of Ming vases. They’re quite valuable aren’t they? Are you sure it’s safe to have it sitting out here?”
“This is a reproduction. The actual vase is in the estate’s safe. My father agreed with your assessment, especially when Morgan and I were young. Sometime maybe I’ll show you the real one.”
“I’d love that.”
She followed him to a portrait of an older gentleman.
“Do you know who this is?” he asked.
“Yes, I think so. It’s George Washington, the first president of the colonies.”
“It’s the United States, love. Since last century, remember?”
She gave him a friendly smack on the arm. “Who painted it?”
“An American artist named Gilbert Stuart. My father got it when he went to America shortly after the turn of the century. Many peers faulted him for hanging it here, but he always admired the Americans and their courage and fortitude. He said they offered a great lesson in pride and perseverance. This painting reminded him of that.”
“Your father sounds like a wise man.”
“He was. About some things. I’m hoping some of it rubbed off on me along the way. Here, this one I think you’ll like.” They stopped in front of a full-length portrait of his parents, the Duke and Duchess of Lybrook. “This was commissioned shortly after they were married. My mother was actually pregnant with Morgan at the time, but the artist depicted her otherwise.”
Daniel’s father, Charles Farnsworth, the sixth Duke of Lybrook, was built like his son, tall and strong with broad shoulders and lean hips. His hair was a light chestnut, and his eyes the color of cinnamon. His face had the same fine lines and strong jaw that Daniel possessed. Morgana, the Duchess of Lybrook, was as Aunt Iris had described her, exotically beautiful, with hair that rivaled Daniel’s and eyes the color of clear green emeralds.
“I can see where you get your good looks, Daniel,” Lily said. “Your parents are both spectacular.”
“Yes, I can’t say they never gave me anything, can I?”
