With a dry ripping sound, Fiona removed the paper, and the paintings emerged.
“Oh…my…” Fiona’s eyes went wide, and a dazzling smile overtook her face.
Beside her, Rudolph’s jaw dropped. “Holy shit…” He stared at the paintings, transfixed, unable to form any other words.
What do we have here? Giles thought.
There were three paintings in total, and the unframed, exposed canvases overwhelmed the room. Two of the pieces were still lifes featuring unfamiliar fruits and shellfish, and the third was a landscape painting depicting ships passing through an inlet. The simple yet deliberate brushstrokes evoked a sense of depth, conveying the foreign atmosphere and the delicate wanderlust that had brought the painter there. Each was so distinctively similar in style that it was obvious at a glance that the same artist had painted them.
The weight of the brush and use of color looked familiar to Giles. “Raymond?”
“Ooh, was it that obvious?”
“Uh, I suppose.” Giles nodded back at Reginald, who seemed pleased for some reason.
Giles’s sister loved Raymond Bailey’s art so much that Gordon had almost successfully conned her with a fake. Unlike the fake Giles had seen that day, however, these paintings evoked a quiet energy that only an original Raymond Bailey could capture. How, he wondered, did Reginald get his hands on three Raymond originals?
Raymond, an infamous recluse, was known to only do business with Gallery Roche. That meant Reginald had to be a close friend of his.
Fiona dreamily looked up from the paintings and over at Reginald. Her eyes were dancing just as brightly as they had in Giles’s private collection room. “Oh, Uncle, they’re beautiful!”
“Pretty good, huh?” Reginald gave a smug snort.
Roche nodded in satisfaction. Dennis remained quiet, but his eyes were wide open as if beholding something magnificent. Fiona turned to meet Giles’s gaze, and when he saw the unbridled bliss in her face, his heart hammered against his chest. His focus narrowed to only Fiona and his own pounding heart, but Fiona’s gaze soon returned to the paintings at her fingertips.
While everyone in the room stayed captivated by his paintings, Reginald leaned over to ask Giles a question. “Do you like them too?”
“Yes. They’re beautiful.” His sincere feelings spilled right out of him, that’s how incredible the paintings were. Reginald asked him which of the three was his favorite, and after a moment’s hesitation, he answered, “The inlet.”
“The inlet, huh? Thanks. Okay, Roche, sell the inlet painting to Lady Colet.”
“Huh?” Giles said.
Roche gasped, “What?! R-Reggie, slow down—”
“You’ve helped Fiona a great deal, haven’t you?” Reginald asked Giles. “And I heard the Lady Colet wanted a Raymond original.”
“Yes, she does,” Roche said, uncharacteristically frazzled, beads of sweat forming on his brow. “But these paintings already have a buyer—”
Reginald steamrolled him. The man clearly marched to the beat of his own drum. “I’ll get another painting here right away. Give Lady Colet this painting first. Of course, if she says she doesn’t want it, you can pass it on to the other buyer.”
“I highly doubt she would ever refuse this painting,” Giles said.
“I know. You’re her little brother; you should take it to her. Oh, and settle pricing and framing and all that business with Roche. I don’t have much patience for that.”
So this was why Reginald had called Giles here. For all the shock, it made sense to Giles. From the way they talked, it sounded like Reginald had more of a say in what happened to Raymond’s paintings than Roche, the gallery owner himself. Giles could already imagine the fit of ecstasy his sister would have when he brought the painting home, but he thought he should double-check with Roche just to make sure. “Roche, is this all right with you?”
“No, it is not all right! It’s very much not all right with me, but…” He sighed. “Once Reggie makes up his mind, there’s no swaying him. Ugh…all right, you win. What am I going to tell Lord Watson…”
Roche’s woeful pleas fell on deaf ears. “Smooth things over with him, Roche. You’re good at that. Isn’t he, Fiona?” he asked, a nonchalant smile on his face.
Fiona looked apologetic but pleased. “Lady Miranda will love this painting, so I would appreciate it if you could make it happen, Mr. Roche.”
“Well, that’s settled!” Reginald declared.
Roche sighed. “It’s been a whole year since I got new paintings. Ah, so much for my perfectly constructed sales schedule…”
Reginald consoled him with a pat on the shoulder. “There, there, Roche, let’s have a drink tonight.”
“You’re paying, you son of a bitch!”
While Giles sympathized with Roche, Reginald was apparently acting true to form. He saw what Fiona meant when she said her uncle was a bit odd. He was the sort of person some people could never hate. If not for Fiona, Giles would have had no problem with the man.
A polite knock interrupted the cheery room, and a staff member popped his head inside. “Excuse me, Lady Fiona? Mrs. Bennett is here to see you.”
“She is?!”
“Go see her,” Reginald said coaxingly. “I’ll wait right here with the paintings.”
With a reluctant smile at the paintings, Fiona rose to her feet. She met Giles’s gaze for a moment before she excused herself. “Sorry, I won’t be gone but a minute.”
“L-let me come with you,” Roche pleaded. “I need a damn change of scenery to restore my spirits.”
“Hee hee! Mr. Roche, you’ve been cursing an awful lot lately,” Fiona informed him.
“Oh no, I’m drowning here… Dennis, bring some hot tea to the sales room in the back.”
“Um, yes, sir.”
The giggling Fiona and gloomy Roche left the office. Dennis followed them out, off to fetch the hot tea, with Rudolph in tow so that he could teach Rudolph how to make it. In the end, the office contained only the three paintings, Giles, and Reginald.
All right, Giles thought, what now? He was sure Reginald had questions, but first, there was something they needed to settle. “Are you sure my sister can have this painting?”
“Huh? Yes, of course,” Reginald replied, swinging his legs where he sat on the edge of the desk. It seemed he still favored the desk over the sofa.