Beyond a Doubt - By Felicia Rogers Page 0,33

Artwork graced the walls. Patrons purveyed the work with a critical eye. Some bravely made comments about the artist’s character, causing Lucy to cringe.

“I heard he left France because of his ‘religion’.”

“As did I.”

“Imagine coming here to escape! Has he no common sense?”

“Maybe he is unaware of the change in venue?”

“Perhaps.”

The couple moved away and Lucy studied the painting. Emotion radiated from every stroke. A man and a woman held hands in the midst of a grassy field, with tall reeds blown sideways by the wind. They gazed at one another with such love and longing.

Looking away from the painting, she studied the room. She was impressed by the number of people willing to pay to visit this private collection. The coffers of the owners would indeed be lined after such a business venture, if the crowd was any indicator.

The private art showings were a recent institution, brought on by increased interest in purchasing and showcasing these beautiful collections. The popularity of these events and the overly large crowds created the perfect spot for a chance meeting.

Of course meeting here held certain risks, such as the recording of the function’s attendee list, which would make Lucy circumspect. However, the advantages far outweighed the risks. It was easier to pass a message in a room full of mingling and chatting people. For who would be crazy enough to leave an important slip of paper in a crowded room?

Cups of wine passed among the visitors, and it seemed each person sipped liberally. Too much wine caused a looseness of tongue, and Lucy needed to remain alert to fulfill her objective. So she merely touched the rim of the cup to her lips, and just the odor of the sweet concoction gave her a heady feeling.

Being without escort did present a few problems. Males in attendance with her same predicament sought her company more frequently than she would have liked. When they sauntered close, she would find someone else nearby, bat her eyelashes, smile and began to speak. This worked to keep those hounds at bay.

Within a few hours the group was soused. Lucy waited for her opportunity. She’d left her leather pouch at home, and instead carried one of blue embroidered silk. As the afternoon had progressed, Lucy made note of a myriad of places that would work to “carelessly leave” the object.

Separating from a group, Lucy studied a particular ancient piece of armor. From the corner of her eye she spotted movement. She spied a handsome man. It was Reginald Spalding. Honey-colored hair reached the nape of his neck. His blue eyes tilted upward at the corners. He attracted a crowd as he told a seemingly entertaining story.

The men guffawed at the ludicrous nature of the tale while the women fluttered their eyelashes and fanned with their hands. Indeed the man was a sight to behold. He had high cheekbones and a defined torso. The man wore a simple brown outfit that covered him from neck to knee. Even his riding boots matched in color. If one didn’t know better, they would believe him going on a hunting trip instead of attending a private art showing.

It was generally known that Reginald Spalding considered himself the cream of high society.

Peering over her glass, Lucy could understand the reason he held this belief. The man had a distinct charisma and charm, and even Lucy felt drawn to him.

Wine passed her lips, and the reason for her visit to the private collection retreated to the recesses of her mind as Reginald’s voice filled the room.

Chapter Thirty-Three

Bryce wondered what he’d done to make Lucy leave. Perhaps he’d come on too strongly? Maybe he shouldn’t have kissed her? He was hurt that she was gone without a word.

He stopped pacing and noticed his reflection in the looking glass. He wasn’t unattractive, or at least he didn’t think so. After all, he was a Cameron and his family was notorious for their good looks.

Bryce twitched his lips upward on the right side then threw his hands into the air. Who was he trying to fool? He should go back to shrugging. Any uses of his mouth of late had only gotten him in trouble.

Not wishing to remain idle, Bryce fed and brushed the horses. Then he cleaned out their stalls. Once finished, he looked around for other things to occupy his time.

The backyard appeared to have once held a garden. The rich earth was cut in a semblance of rows and a shed remained behind the house.