The idea that women—particularly women of noble blood—should not work was not an easy one to do away with, nor was it exclusive to their kingdom. Fiona was skilled, there was no doubt about that, but whether her skills and work ethic were valued equitably was another matter entirely. That Fiona had been calling herself her uncle’s helper all those years most likely stemmed from her tacit understanding of this.
Mrs. Bennett probably had her eye on Fiona because Fiona reminded her of her younger self. She was a master businesswoman, yet she was always considered second-class in her era. No matter how keen her business sense, no matter how blessed she was with opportunities, her path in life was surely even harder than Fiona’s.
Fiona was entrusted with a number of tasks at Roche’s gallery, but it would be difficult for her to strive for anything more. Life would probably be easier for her if she married a high-ranking nobleman and became a patron of artists. The idea tickled Giles’s brain, but he quickly brushed it away; Fiona refused such a future for herself. It was the reason she had agreed to the fake engagement with Giles in the first place.
Still, Giles hoped that he could be of at least a little help to her. Changing societal norms wasn’t something that happened overnight, but he would to do whatever he could to help those in his life. There wasn’t much else that he could do for Fiona, who was dutifully carrying out her end of their agreement.
The staff member finally finished his explanation, and Giles approached Fiona and Lister. Fiona turned around with a little gasp, and Lister looked up.
“Oh! I’m so sorry, Lord Giles, we were rambling there,” Fiona said.
“Do excuse us, Lord Lowell,” added Lister.
“No, it’s quite all right. Inspector Lister, thank you for obliging me yesterday.”
“Oh, of course. It was an honor to be of service.”
Fiona smiled as she watched Giles and Lister shake hands.
“Ah, yes,” Lister said, turning back to Fiona. “That Poiret piece from Gordon’s gallery—would you like to see it?”
“Is it here?” Fiona asked. Giles smirked at the way her eyes gleamed when she heard the name Poiret. Justine Poiret was an artist from a neighboring nation, and she had been active for a time in this kingdom as well. But with the onset of the war, she was falsely accused of being a spy from the enemy nation. As a result, she became a fugitive, and most of her art was burned. When she passed away, she became a sort of mythical artist.
“Yes. It’s been appraised, so we’re keeping it here until his surveillance period has ended.” A plea bargain had reduced Gordon’s sentence, and he was to be under mild surveillance for a while, hence the academy holding his art hostage. “Would you like to see it, Fiona?”
“I’d love to!”
“Yes, it’s a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, isn’t it? We’ve also borrowed the Poiret from the royal palace, so you can see two of them side by side,” Lister said. The appraisal had revealed the piece Gordon owned was painted when Poiret was their kingdom’s court painter. The one other painting of hers that had survived had been used as reference.
Giles could see that the prospect of seeing a significant piece of art that had escaped the horrors and ruin of war was torturing Fiona’s patience. “Please, lead the way,” he said.
“Of course, my lord. Follow me.”
They were escorted to a storage room where Inspector Lister personally retrieved the painting. It was small. Lister offered his theory that its size was what had helped it avoid discovery and escape destruction.
Lister set the paintings next to each other. Each depicted a large vase with flowers spilling out of it. The brush strokes were delicate and feminine; the overlap of the thin, soft flower petals were lustrously painted with a flair that drew the viewer in. It was the perfect scene for a palace. Though the flower types and colors were different, the mood and horizontal orientation of each painting made them an excellent pair, and Fiona was enraptured.
“So this is Poiret,” she breathed. “Beautiful.”
“It’s exquisite,” Giles agreed.
“Neither is a grand painting, but they are quite lovely,” Lister said. “This one with the blue vase was the one displayed at Gordon’s gallery. Our appraisal determined that it is genuine.”
However, the criminal investigation had not shed light on what such a rare painting was doing in Gordon’s gallery. Poiret’s art had no direct connection to Minister Saquille’s conspiracy or the counterfeit paintings. And, after all, Gordon was an art dealer; it was not strange for him to own a rare painting. The Poiret original had been seized not as evidence, but as a fine—given that Gordon’s gallery was full of fakes and contained no other assets to seize.
“She’s painted some roses just like the one you brought in today, Miss Fiona,” Lister said.
“Ooh, you’re right. This one here.” There were roses among the multicolored flowers, some of which were cup-shaped blooms with numerous petals just like the rose Fiona had received from the king’s brother. Fiona pointed gleefully at the pale yellow one, enjoying the coincidence.
“Do all of the flowers in these paintings exist in reality?” Giles asked.
“Not all of them, no,” Lister replied. “Take this flower with red gradations for example. One of our workers who’s well-versed in botany says he’s never seen one like it before.”
The paintings were not depictions of actual flowers or studies in any particular category of plant. If you looked at them holistically, you could see the painter had adjusted the colors a lot to maintain balance. It gave her work an otherworldly effect.
“I wonder if she painted the colors she saw in her heart,” Fiona whispered.
“Yes, I think she did a lot of that,” Lister replied, sounding happy. They smiled at each other, the mood between them was intimate, with no awkwardness between them. Then another employee approached Lister, and he said, “If you’ll excuse me. You may admire the paintings for as long as you’d like.”
“Thank you. I know you’re very busy,” Fiona said.
“It’s no trouble, Miss.”
“Inspector Lister is amazing,” Fiona said as Lister walked away. “Whenever I ask him a question, he has a thoughtful answer.”
“Yes, he’s very clever.”
“I hear he’s worked in an art gallery outside the kingdom too.”
The pride in Fiona’s voice when she spoke about Lister was obvious, and Giles could understand why Lister behaved as he did around Fiona. The man probably didn’t have any hidden agenda. And yet—
“You two are quite chummy.”
—the sour words spilled right out of Giles’s mouth.
Fiona’s eyes went wide, and she blinked a few times. She hadn’t missed Giles’s insinuation, then. She leaned in and whispered, “Don’t tell anyone I said this, but his daughter actually has the same name as me.”
“Oh?”
“He says she hates her daddy right now, so I’m his daughter until she gets over that phase.” Fiona giggled. “He’s so busy he doesn’t get to see her much, so that’s why.”
Giles blinked. “I…see…”
“I can tell he really loves his daughter.”
Maybe that was what a normal family looked like. Giles wouldn’t know. He nodded, still not quite understanding, and Fiona’s answering smile was as soft as the rose she had just received. The smile lingered on her lips as she turned back to the paintings.
“They’re beautiful, aren’t they?”
“…Yeah.”
The situation where Fiona felt the most content wasn’t a lavish soirée or a royal commendation ceremony, it was in a quiet room where she could admire paintings. Giles stood beside her in silence, gazing at the side of her face as she reveled in her bliss.
✦ ✦ ✦
Later that evening, as the Royal Art Academy staff finished up their work for the day, a visitor came calling. The moment he arrived, everyone jumped to their feet in astonishment and promptly bowed.
“What an honor!” Lister exclaimed. “We weren’t expecting your return until tomorrow.” Their visitor always traveled light, but Lister had not expected him to make an appearance after dark without an attendant.
“Oh, don’t worry yourselves about me. I happened to be in the neighborhood and saw the lights were still on, so I thought I’d swing by.”
“Is that so? Well, would you like to take it now?” Lister asked.
“If possible, yes.”
“I’ll fetch it right now.” Lister disappeared into a room and immediately returned with a parcel wrapped in cloth. It was the Poiret original from the palace that he had shown Fiona and Giles earlier that day. “It was incredibly useful as a reference. Thank you for letting us borrow it.”
“Glad I could help.”
“Well, have a good night, Your Highness.”
Having casually taken the painting from the inspector’s hands, the king’s younger brother turned and left, his footsteps echoing down the empty hallway.