Page 60 of The Chase
I breathed a sigh of relief, and my shoulders relaxed from where they’d been holding their tension.
“You asked me for my first,” he clarified. “Not my first love.”
“True.”
He looked thoughtful. “Goya.”
“Which one?”
“Ferdinand Guillemardet.”
“Of course,The French Ambassador, any young man would be struck by his confidence.”
“And later, I understood the profoundness of the portrait, the life radiating off the canvas, the ambassador’s calculated pose to exude intelligence.”
“You admired his power?”
“Actually, it’s what’s captured in Ferdinand’s eyes. They reflect that he’d seen so much. Goya understood his pain and the wisdom that had come from that. Goya’s bright palette was truly remarkable. I wish you could see it up close. He believed this was his finest painting. To be honest, there are too many of his great works to choose from.”
“I’m sure Goya enjoyed the vibrant conversation while the ambassador posed for him,” I said.
“Most definitely. A shame he later lost his hearing.”
“Where did you seeThe French Ambassador?”
“The portrait hung in the living room of my uncle’s villa in Reims. I stayed with him for a while.” Tobias brightened. “My uncle bequeathed the painting to the Louvre.”
“No wonder you were willing to go to any means to see the Goya.”
“To know she was real—” He placed his palm on his chest to say the rest.
“I’m happy I could help. Do you speak French?”
“Oui.”He continued to speak, his tone poetic as though reciting a sonnet.
Making my toes curl. “What did that mean?”
“I was thanking you for brightening my day.”
He made me smile, his flair for language adding a sexy dimension to the already heady Tobias Wilder.
“I’m grateful for your talent, Zara. And your continued discretion.”
“Adley was okay with it.”
“Of course he was.”
“I wanted to get lost in that palace. Spend the night running from room to room and savor every second.”
“Art should be shared. It’s a travesty to hide them away.”
Looking down, I hid my shame. My father’s legacy had been all about hoarding the paintings and keeping them just for him.
A legacy of secrecy that I too was guilty of now.
That elegant hand reaching out across that ancient canvas...
“There’s a beautiful mystery to art.” Tobias reached for his glass. “I see myself as a steward.”
