smiled wryly. ‘You wish me to leave you to your detecting, nao e?’ He touched the bell. ‘Ring if you need anything. Jorge will come. I shall see you at lunch.’
Alone with the portrait at last, Katherine took off the spectacles to peer through her magnifying glass. ‘Right, young sir. Time for your close up.’
She went over every inch of the painting, then took a photograph to record its original state. Her instinct was screaming at her to start cleaning, but she doggedly kept to her usual routine. Once she’d taken everything she needed from her box, she pulled on a builder’s mask and her binocular headband, drew in a deep breath and moistened the first cotton bud with white spirit.
CHAPTER TWO
KATHERINE could have sworn that only minutes had passed when Roberto himself arrived to say lunch awaited her on the veranda, by which time the bin liner at Katherine’s feet was piling up with swabs and she was in no mood to break off to eat. But she smiled politely and straightened her back as she exchanged the binocular lenses for her spectacles, aware of his obvious disappointment that she had so little to show for her labours.
‘I’m just taking off the dirt. You’ll only see a difference when I get to the overpaint.’
‘I did not expect him to look worse than before,’ he admitted.
‘I look worse, too,’ she said ruefully as they walked back to the house. ‘I need a scrub.’
‘I shall wait on the varanda,’ Roberto said. ‘There is no hurry.’
‘Yes, there is,’ she contradicted. ‘I must get back to work.’
His lips twitched. ‘You enjoy your detecting so much?’
‘I do.’ She could have added that in this case it was almost unbearably exciting, but said nothing in case she was wrong.
Over lunch, Roberto told Katherine that he would be out for most of the following day. ‘Be sure to stop and rest often. I shall tell Lidia to see to this.’
‘Oh, I will,’ she assured him.
‘Have you any thoughts yet about the hand that painted our young man?’ Roberto asked, filling their coffee cups.
‘At this stage it’s hard to tell. After I’ve cleaned the canvas I’ll remove some of the overpaint to look for signature brush strokes. They function like fingerprints to identify the painter. But I’ll only do enough to form an opinion. If the painting is valuable I’ll leave the rest to the restorer James uses most, a lady with the necessary experience. Unless there is someone else you have in mind, of course.’
‘I have not. It was my intention to leave all in Senhor Massey’s hands. But I would trust you to do all, Dr Lister,’ he added with formality.
That was a relief! ‘It’s very kind of you, but I’m an art historian, not a professional restorer. Besides, I can’t stay here that long.’
‘You are so eager to return to England? You have a lover waiting there for you?’ His eyes gleamed as colour rose in her face at the sudden descent into the personal.
‘I have a friend, yes. But I was referring to my job,’ she said frostily.
He raised an eyebrow. ‘I am sure Mr Massey would allow you to stay if I asked.’
Katherine finished her coffee and stood up. ‘That’s up to him.’
‘If he agreed, it would cause problems in your private life if you stay here?’ Roberto got up more slowly, jaw clenched at the effort.
‘None at all.’ None that mattered compared to the painting, anyway. She looked at her watch. ‘Time I got back to work. I’ll just run up to my room for my laptop.’
‘I shall see you at dinner. I will not walk with you to the estufa because I know well I am too slow for you,’ he said sardonically.
Guilty because he was right, Katherine managed a smile. ‘I’ll look forward to reporting to you at dinner.’
Not as much as I shall, thought Roberto, as he watched her racing up the stairs. His initial hostility towards her was receding rapidly, leaving him with a growing desire to know the efficient Dr Katherine Lister better. The Quinta was a beautiful, peaceful haven, but lonely. He smiled bitterly as he limped back to his rooms. At one time he had longed for privacy and time to himself. His mother had told him many times to be careful what he wished for in case the wish was granted. And, as always, she was right. He would gladly pay James Massey whatever he asked for more of Katherine’s time, if only to look forward to conversation with her over dinner. She was a rare type of woman in his experience, expert in the subject which interested him so greatly. And if his scar repelled her she hid it well. He smiled a little. It was unusual to meet a woman who made no effort to use her physical assets to attract him—a novelty compared to the old days. And she had obviously never heard of him, though this was not surprising. His career had been cut short before it reached the heights once hoped for.
Katherine remembered to have a word with Lidia on her way out again, and learned that there was a bathroom on the ground floor for visitors, which would be kept for her sole use during her stay.
‘Perfeito!’ Katherine said, smiling, having looked the word up in the pocket dictionary acquired for the trip. She settled down to work with new zest now the first stage of cleaning was over.
With a canvas in dirtier condition Katherine would have repeated the cleaning process, but due to the time factor she moved straight on to the next stage. Beginning on a section on the subject’s coat, she set down a piece of card with a small window cut in it, then dipped a cotton wool bud in acetone and set to work within the aperture. The effect was electrifying. The overpaint had obviously been applied well within the past fifty years or so because it dissolved like magic within the tiny frame, revealing much lighter pigment underneath. Katherine went on moving the cardboard frame fraction by fraction, applying acetone as she went, and then took a photograph to email to James for his verdict, and sat back in one of the chairs for a break.
James rang her almost at once. ‘You are having an interesting time. That’s genuine eighteenth century pigment by the look of it. But ten to one you’re going to find damage somewhere. Ask de Sousa whether you should carry on.’
‘He’s already talking about my staying on here to do that, if you’re agreeable.’
‘Is he now?’ There was a pause. ‘As a matter of interest, how old is he, and is there a Senhora de Sousa?’
‘He’s thirty-something, and if there is a wife she doesn’t live here. Bye for now.’
A shadow fell over the steps as she disconnected and Katherine turned, to find Roberto watching her.
‘Perdoa-me, it was not my intention to listen, but—’
‘You heard what I said.’ Her face heated.
He nodded. ‘Your lover is jealous that you are living in my house?’
‘I was talking to James Massey!’
His face relaxed slightly. ‘Your employer
