Page 13 of All I Want for Christmas

‘I’m there from seven,’ Viggo replied.

‘Seven? Wow, okay.’ Darcy still slept like a teenager and mornings were merciless to her. Getting to the library for nine felt like an accomplishment.

‘Once you get to my age, sleep becomes more a succession of quiet interludes than full-blown oblivion,’ he said, seeming to read her mind.

Darcy smiled, feeling relieved that he, not the formidable Foss, would be her principal point of contact. She looked up again to find the younger man still openly staring as his group carried on their conversation around him. She felt a hard buzz of static as their eyes met again across the room, excitement rippling through her at this unexpected flirtation. It was the last thing she had been expecting from this evening. Was she blushing? She wasn’t used to such obvious interest.

Reluctantly, she faced her companions again, reminding herself she was here to work.

‘How’s Lauge getting on?’ Viggo was asking.

‘They’ve made a start.’ Otto shrugged. ‘He’s not thrilled by the time pressures. You know Lauge.’

‘Indeed I do,’ Viggo chuckled. ‘I’ve seen how long it takes that man to finish a beer.’

Everyone chuckled with him, even Darcy, though her mind was not remotely on the conservation.

‘And where are you intending to start your investigations, Miss Cotterell?’ Viggo asked, turning his attention to her again.

‘Well, until we can capture a higher-resolution image of theportrait and take a clearer look at her face, I think my time is best spent investigating Trier in the few years beforeHer Children –identifying his social circle, his movements, that sort of thing.’

‘We have a great many of his letters and diaries, which may prove helpful – preparatory sketches and the like.’

‘That sounds ideal. I can’t wait to get started. It’s going to be a fascinating challenge,’ she said, glancing back in the direction of the handsome stranger – but he had gone.

Disappointment filled her at his sudden, glaring absence, and she scanned the room in search of him. The spark of excitement he had brought to the evening had lifted her momentarily, but now she found herself crashing back down to earth.

‘I assume there have been no similarly exciting new discoveries at the Madsen Collection?’ Otto was asking Helle.

‘Any more hidden paintings, you mean? Sadly not. We’re putting them all under the scanner to double check, but what are the chances?’

‘Well, if he did it once, why not again?’ Otto said in a reasonable tone, but Darcy caught the look on his face as he spoke and recognized the rivalry that flowed between them.

The conversation drifted onto other topics and Darcy found herself discussing the record recently set at Christie’s for a pair of Canalettos and the shift in the general art market from public auctions to private sales. People drifted in and out of their bubble, names exchanged and pleasantries passed, and the minutes began to slide past. Her glass was regularly refreshed, though she took only the barest of sips. When Viggo unapologetically checked the time on his old wristwatch, she was surprised to see it was almost ten.

‘Well, it’s time for this old man to get to his bed. It’s beena pleasure, all,’ he said to the group collectively, taking his leave. ‘And I’ll see you tomorrow, Ms Cotterell.’

‘Darcy, please.’

‘Darcy,’ he nodded.

She watched him go, feeling relief that she’d got through the evening successfully. Small talk wasn’t her forte; she wasn’t a political player. She liked a small social circle and meaningful interaction, but work demands increasingly meant that sometimes she had to step out of her comfort zone – as tonight.

‘I should head off too. I need a clear head for hitting the ground running tomorrow,’ she said to Otto, and he nodded his approval of her departure. She looked at Helle Foss. ‘It’s been a pleasure meeting you.’

‘Ms Cotterell,’ Foss nodded.

‘As you’re going to be at the Madsen for the rest of the week, let’s regroup in my office on Monday, our usual time,’ Otto said. This meant nine thirty, over coffee. He took his coffee, like his art, very seriously and wouldn’t dream of drinking from the vending machine. It was Ida who had given Darcy the details of his favourite coffee shop and how he liked it, and they now had a routine in which she would bring their coffees on the way in to the meeting.

‘Great.’ She was aware of eyes upon her as she ascended the steps and headed towards the Sculpture Street. The reception was beginning to break up, and a few people were already wandering around the statues as they slowly meandered towards the exit.

‘Darcy Cotterell.’

Turning her head in surprise, she saw the handsome stranger sitting on one of the benches between the statues. He put his phone away and got up, walking towards her with the same steady expression he’d worn downstairs.

‘Yes.’ She swallowed, trying not to betray the effect he had on her as he approached. It was like waiting for a tiger to come out from the trees, his confidence seeming to strip her of hers. ‘Have we met?’ she asked, seeing how he slipped his hand into his trouser pocket. His suit was expensive; well cut, and he moved with a self-assured manner. Was he another rich patron? Used to owning everything he wanted?

‘Not yet.’ He stopped in front of her. Even though she wore heels, he was several inches taller than her. ‘You were very popular this evening.’

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