Tall, Dark... Collection

‘Hidden away in a house in the north of England,’ Nick answered abruptly, obviously not wanting to pursue this subject at all.

Too bad—because Hebe did!

‘Yes. What did you say was the name of the original owner, Nick?’ Hebe prompted readily, completely putting him on the spot. The increased glitter in his eyes told her how incensed he was.

Well, so what? she thought. At the moment she was more interested in knowing who had been the original owner of her mother’s portrait than she was concerned with Nick obvious displeasure.

‘I didn’t,’ Nick came back stiffly, wondering why Hebe was asking this now. ‘And I’m sure Henry and Jean aren’t interested in this—’

‘On the contrary,’Hebe’s father interrupted. ‘It all sounds fascinating,’ the historian in him prompted inquisitively.

Hebe gave Nick another one of those over-sweet smiles, her smile turning to genuine amusement as she saw how annoyed he was.

But, no matter what he might otherwise wish, he couldn’t have things all his own way.

As he seemed used to having!

So far today he had bought her an engagement ring it would have been churlish to refuse, tricked her into what sounded like a full-scale wedding rather than the quiet affair she had been expecting, and questioned her adoptive parents about her real parents.

It was time he told her some of the things she wanted to know!

‘Not really,’ he dismissed easily now. ‘The man died, his relatives found and then sold the portrait. End of story.’

‘And are you going to put it into one of your galleries?’ her mother questioned brightly.

‘No!’ Nick came back harshly.

Hebe turned to look at him frowningly. If he wasn’t going to put the portrait in one of his galleries, then what was he going to do with it…?

‘No,’ he repeated less violently, seeming to force himself to relax, even while he frowned darkly in Hebe’s direction. ‘I happen to like this portrait and I intend keeping it for myself.’

‘But how wonderful!’ her mother came back innocently. ‘You’ll have to let us see it when we come down to London.’

Much to Nick’s discomfort and Hebe’s amusement! She had stood all the abuse from Nick she was going to with regard to that portrait. It wasn’t a portrait of her, no matter what Nick believed.

She was slightly surprised at his decision not to show the portrait, after going to all that trouble to purchase it, but perhaps he had decided he didn’t want his future wife on public display like that?

Or that it would be yet another thing to torment her with when they were alone!

Yes, that sounded more like the Nick she knew and—

She broke off those thoughts abruptly. What was the point of thinking about her love for Nick when she was obviously just another possession to him? A prize possession, because she carried his child.

Besides, she still didn’t have the answers she was looking for!

‘What makes this portrait so interesting, though,’ she continued cheerfully, ‘is that it isn’t listed anywhere as one of the artist’s works.’

Nick’s gaze narrowed searchingly on Hebe’s face. How did she know that? Unless she had been checking up on the portrait herself? Which made no sense to him whatsoever. She knew Andrew Southern had painted that portrait of her, whether it was listed or not, so why persist in pushing the subject?

‘Perhaps it’s a forgery?’ Jean mused.

‘Oh, no, Jean,’ Nick answered the older woman assuredly. ‘It’s most definitely authentic.’

‘Kept hidden away in some man’s attic for the last twenty-odd years,’ Hebe put in teasingly.

She wasn’t going to leave this alone, was she? Nick brooded. She obviously still wanted something from him. But what? And more to the point, why?

‘Actually, Jacob Gardner kept it in his—Are you okay there, Jean?’ He moved forward quickly to catch her cup and saucer as they seemed to leap out of her hand of their own volition.

‘Oh, how silly of me.’ Jean got up agitatedly to take the cup and saucer away from him. ‘I’ll take these things out to the kitchen so that there are no more accidents,’ she added swiftly, before picking up the laden tray and bustling from the room, her husband following her a few seconds later.

Nick was left not just with a suspicion, but with the certainty that these two elderly people were hiding something…

He just had no idea what.

A searching look at Hebe showed him that she had seen it too, and was just as puzzled. Her baiting of him to get information had somehow backfired on her in a way she hadn’t expected…

CHAPTER EIGHT

‘YOUR parents are hiding something.’

Hebe gave Nick a frowning glance as he drove them back to London later that evening.

He was right, of course, though she was loath to admit it. Her parents were hiding something. Her mother’s accident with her cup and saucer after hearing Jacob Gardner’s name mentioned had to be indicative of something.

Hebe just had no idea what it was!

Her father had changed the subject once her parents had returned to the sitting room a few minutes later, going back to talking of the forthcoming wedding—a subject guaranteed to put Hebe herself on edge.

‘Of course they aren’t,’ she defended now, having already decided she would talk to her parents in private about this—probably when they came down to London. No concrete plans had been made on that suggestion, though, and wouldn’t be until they all knew the date and time of the wedding. ‘You’re just imagining things, Nick,’ she said airily, not wanting him to pursue this particular subject. ‘Now, tell me exactly what paperwork it is that your lawyers are working on?’ she added scathingly.

She hadn’t forgotten that remark, even if he had hoped she had!

‘It wouldn’t happen to be a pre-nuptial agreement, would it?’ she prompted angrily.

Nick raised dark brows. ‘Would you sign it if it were?’

‘Absolutely not!’ she snapped.

‘I didn’t think so,’ he mused.

‘They’re an insult to everyone involved,’ Hebe told him caustically.

‘Most of them aren’t worth the paper they’re written on, either,’ he drawled.

‘Oh, I have no doubt that any pre-nuptial agreement your lawyers prepared would be watertight!’ she replied with disgust.

‘Probably,’ Nick conceded dryly. ‘But that isn’t what they’re doing, and you wouldn’t sign it if they were. The paperwork they’re dealing with has to do with the fact that I’m an American getting married in England, so this conversation is rather pointless, wouldn’t you say?’