Page 112 of Ironvine

“My compliments, Your Grace, your port is magnificent.” Charles raised his glass at the Duke as they rose from the table. “I do not think I’ve ever tasted the like before.”

“You have a fine palette then, Ryvves, for I can promise you, you have not ever tasted this wine before nor likely shall again, unless you are, of course, in my company.” The Duke chuckled.

“Your Grace brings it over from Portugal yourself?”

“Something like that.” He winked at Charles.

“It is very fine, indeed,” said Brandon.

In the drawing room, Charles found Georgina with Alice and his aunt. “How are you enjoying yourselves?”

“Very well,” said Alice, her gaze darting over the men slowly entering the drawing room.

“Aunt, did you and Alice see the sculpture gallery? The Oakley collection is quite remarkable.”

“Not for many, many years.”

“Shall we have a look?”

“I’d love to.” His aunt’s face lit up as she slid her arm in his, and with Georgina and Alice following them, Charles brought them to the long, dark gallery dramatically lit by torches.

“I’d once heard that the Duke’s father had gone to Athens and brought back small sculptures he’d come across at some ancient temple,” said Aunt Vivian, her voice just above a whisper. “And that the present Duke continues to acquire such pieces.”

Glowing firelight cast a warm glow over the lustrous sheen of the many white marble sculptures as they strolled through the rows of sculptures. “They must be here,” said Charles. An audible gasp rose up behind them and they stopped.

Alice’s eyes had widened considerably as she took in the nude figure of Apollo, the sun god, urgently chasing the maiden, Daphne. Alice was in a state of arrest.

“Wonderful…” Georgina murmured as she walked around the marble figures, her face awash in glee. “What do you think, Alice?”

Charles’s pulse jumped at the sight of his wife so enraptured by the sculpture.

“Em…I…” Alice’s face flushed, and her lips parted as she took in the spectacle of Apollo pursuing the object of his desire.

“I would say it is a battle between chastity and lust,” said Charles.

“Oh…is it?” said Alice.

Aunt Vivian stepped closer to the piece. “The story goes that Eros, the famed god of love, played a trick on Apollo for insulting him. He shot him with a golden arrow of love and he fell hard for Daphne. However, he shot Daphne with a lead arrow so that she would hate Apollo. Thus, whilst the god was inflamed with desire for her, the girl was determined to reject him.”

“Quite an impossible situation for a man never before rejected,” muttered Charles.

“Can you imagine?” Georgina smirked at Charles.

Aunt Vivian continued, “Daphne had asked her father, also a god, to help her, and just as Apollo caught up with her—this is that very moment—see there, he’s just reached her, he’s touching her—she instantly transforms into a tree.”

Alice only bit her lip.

“I ask you, is that being saved?” said Charles. “Being immobilised into this thing, confined and muted forever, is preferable to being ravished by a god who loves and adores her?”

“Until he no longer loves her,” quipped Georgina. “Arrow or no, Apollo was a passionate and unfaithful sort, was he not, Aunt?”

“Quite right, my dear. He was most fickle.” Aunt Vivian laughed softly. “Very much a scoundrel.”

“Daphne made a choice, and in that, she trumped his hollow conquering,” said Georgina. “Maybe she was better off being a tree than succumbing to such a savage, hungry predator.”

“I suppose there are women who don’t appreciate savage and hungry lovers, eh?” Charles quipped.

Alice’s eyes widened.

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