She repressed a shiver. Practically on their doorstep and much too close for comfort.
‘Though he’s primarily a businessman, a Wall Street investment banker, I understand, he’s interested in art and owns the Falconer Gallery in New York… But possibly you knew that?’
‘Yes.’
When she failed to elaborate, Charles went on, ‘However, I gather the paintings he’s hoping to buy are for his private collection. He mentioned one by Mia Adams that he’d particularly like to own, Wednesday’s Child…’
She froze.
‘Falconer believes it was painted seven or eight years ago, and is one of her best. Though I must say I’ve never heard of it… He made it clear that money’s no object, so I’ve promised to do what I can. Of course, even if I’m able to locate it, the present owner might not be willing to sell.’
Something about Virginia’s utter stillness made Charles ask, ‘Do you remember it by any chance?’
Taking a deep breath, she admitted, ‘As a matter of fact I do. I sat for it. I wasn’t quite seventeen.’
His light blue eyes glowing with interest, he exclaimed, ‘I didn’t realise your mother had ever used you as a model!’
‘It was just the once. I’d been invited to spend the summer holidays with a school friend—Jane belonged to a big happy family, and I was looking forward to it—but at the last minute the visit had to be cancelled, so I went home.
‘Mother said that as I was there she might as well make use of me. I tried hard to do just as she wanted, but for some reason she disliked the finished portrait, and she never asked me to sit again.’
‘What did you think of it?’
‘I didn’t see it,’ Virginia said flatly. ‘She told me that it needed framing, and the next time I went home, it had been sold…’
And now Ryan wanted to buy it.
That fact disturbed her almost as much as seeing him again…
But maybe it was just chance that had made him specify Wednesday’s Child? Maybe he didn’t know that she had been the sitter?
Almost before the thought was completed, a sure and certain instinct told her it was no chance. He knew all right.
She shivered.
Watching her face, Charles asked shrewdly, ‘If I am able to locate and acquire that particular painting, how do you feel about Falconer having it?’
With careful understatement, she admitted, ‘I’d rather he didn’t.’
‘Then, I’ll tell him I had no luck.’
Recalling the problems and financial losses that Charles had suffered over the past year, she swallowed hard and made herself say, ‘No, if you are able to acquire it and he’s willing to pay well, you mustn’t let my silly prejudices stand in the way of business.’
‘Well, we’ll see,’ he said noncommittally. ‘Things might well be looking up.’
Before she could question that somewhat cryptic statement, he glanced at his watch. ‘It’s almost four o’clock. I’d best be getting on.’
Rising to his feet, a tall, spare figure with slightly rounded shoulders, he suggested with the solicitude he always displayed for her, ‘You’re looking a bit peaky, why don’t you go home?’
Thoroughly unsettled, her head throbbing dully, and never having felt less like work, she said gratefully, ‘I’ve got a bit of a headache, so I think I will, if you really don’t mind?’
Smiling, he shook his head. ‘As it’s Monday, I’m quite sure Helen and I can deal with anything that may crop up in the next hour or so.’
At the door, he paused to say, ‘Oh, by the way, I won’t be coming home at the usual time. I’ve agreed to have dinner with the client I saw earlier this afternoon…’
Her heart sank. Somehow, after what had happened, she needed his comforting, undemanding presence.
‘And as it’s my turn to cook—’ when Virginia had first moved into his spare room, they had reached an amicable arrangement whereby they cooked on alternate evenings ‘—I suggest you get a takeaway, on me…’
Well aware that his sensitive antennae had picked up her unspoken need, she asked with determined lightness, ‘Will you run to a Chinese?’
He grinned. ‘I might, if you promise to save me some prawn crackers.’
‘Done!’
‘I don’t expect to be late but, if by any chance I am, don’t wait up for me. You look as if you could do with an early night. Oh, and if you’re not feeling up to scratch, take a taxi home.’
Charles was so genuinely kind, so caring, Virginia thought as the door closed behind him. He would make a wonderful husband for the right woman.
He was an excellent companion, easy to talk to and good-tempered, with that rarest of gifts, the ability to see another person’s point of view.
Added to that, he was a good-looking man with a quiet charm and undeniable sex appeal. Helen, she was almost certain, was in love with him, and had been for the past year.
It was a great pity that she couldn’t love him in the way he wanted her to.
A few weeks before, as they’d washed the dishes together after their evening meal, he had broached the question of marriage, diffidently, feeling his way, afraid of scaring her off.
Until then she had thought of him as a confirmed bachelor, set in his ways. It had never occurred to her that he might propose, and he’d been skirting round the subject for several minutes before she’d had the faintest inkling of what had been in his mind.
‘I hadn’t realised how much I lacked companionship until you came along… Since you’ve been living here…well, it’s made a great difference to my life… And you seem happy with the arrangement…?’
‘Yes, I am.’ She smiled at him warmly.
Bolstered by that smile, his blue eyes serious, he finally came to the point. ‘Virginia…there’s something I want to ask you… But if the answer’s no, promise me it won’t make any difference to our friendship…’
‘I promise.’
‘You must know I love you…’
She had suspected he was getting fond of her, but had regarded it as the kind of affection he might have felt for any close friend.
‘Don’t you think it might be something to do with propinquity?’ she suggested gently.
Shaking his head, he said, ‘I’ve loved you ever since I set eyes on you…’ Then formally, he said, ‘It would make me very happy if you would agree to marry me.’
Just for an instant
