“Do any of them feel threatened?” his father boomed, his bushy white moustache bristling.
“Well, I don’t know. I don’t think so. Maybe Everly a little bit, because it was her picture that was smashed. But…” Edward couldn’t carry on talking without the risk of spilling his feelings, so he bit his lip.
His father looked like thunder. His eyebrows so low that his dark eyes were almost hidden from view. His mother stood and walked to her husband, her hand resting gently on his forearm.
“Look, Edward,” she said, her beautiful eyes glistening. “We have had a chat, since you told us of your worries. And if it was your apartment, or the college that was at risk, then of course we would assist. But, really, do you think you could be thinking a bit disproportionally?”
If Edward couldn’t talk his mother around, there was no way the Colonel would agree to help. Disappointment clamped around his stomach like a fist. He was sure he wasn’t imagining things. How could Everly’s beautiful face just fly from the wall and smash itself all over the floor? And she had sworn she’d seen someone in the garden. It wasn’t unusual for his family to have overenthusiastic fans, but he had a sinking feeling that whoever was behind this was targeting somebody—if not Everly herself, then the house and its residents. He’d have to find his own way to stop them.
“And Edward,” his mother’s soft voice knocked his thoughts back to the here and now. “We’ve also been talking about this young woman you’ve met.”
She glanced at his father before she continued, taking a deep breath that told Edward everything he needed to hear about the following conversation.
“We don’t want you forging a relationship with her. We want you to find somebody who is of the same class and breeding. And you’re getting on in years. We want grandchildren while we’re still young enough to enjoy them, Edward. Please. Stay away from that young woman.”
Edward’s mouth set into a hard, grim line. He couldn’t talk. He didn’t want to open his mouth and speak the words that were ready to fly out, because they’d end up slapping his parents around their cheeks. He couldn’t do that.
“That’s why you’re joining as for dinner tomorrow,” his father barked. “A few close friends. We want you to be there, to take your mind off all of these silly shenanigans. Tomorrow night. Eight sharp. The Gantry.”
Edward felt the air escape from his lungs.
“I can’t,” he started to say, holding on to the desk to stop his legs buckling. He wasn’t just thinking of Everly now. Vivid images flashed through his mind from the last time he’d set foot in The Gantry.
“Ivan,” his mother hissed, but her husband waved away her concerns.
“It’s been nearly seven years,” he said, as if that was excuse enough to make their son suffer. “He’s a grown man, not a pathetic child. Isn’t that right, Edward?”
Edward just shook his head and walked from the room, somehow making it to the open door of his limousine before his legs gave way. His chauffeur closed the door behind him, took his own seat, and set off for central London.
“Everything alright, sir?” Matt asked, checking in his rear-view mirror.
But Edward didn’t reply. With skin as pale as the white snow now falling from the sky, Edward had heard nothing but the roar of his anger drumming through his skull.
17
“Stop the car,” Edward shouted.
The chauffeur flinched at the strength of the words, slamming on the brakes so hard that Edward flew forward, caught by his seatbelt. Cars honked their horns, tires squealing as people negotiated their way around the jet-black Phantom.
“Everything okay, sir?” the chauffeur asked, mopping his head with his handkerchief.
“Yes,” Edward said. “I’m sorry, Matt. I was wondering if you might be able to take a detour for me, please?”
“Of course, is it an emergency? Shall I drive to the Royal Infirmary?”
Edward shook his head.
“No. The gallery, please. London University.”
“As you wish, sir,” the chauffeur said.
He put his foot down and the huge car roared around in a tight circle. Edward sank down into the leather seats and tried to relax his wayward mind.
Everly scraped away at the canvas in front of her. She’d decided to make a start on her piece today. Yesterday had been terrible, but today was a new day, and she was determined to make the most of it. Today was for her art, and her art alone. She was hoping that Edward would lay low and let her just get on with things, and so far that seemed to be the case. Tiffany was around, in case any of the students needed some guidance, but they all seemed to be managing.
The studio was surprisingly quiet, only she and Alison making use of the space. Alison was working meticulously with a scalpel and some wonderful colored paper. Everly had watched her with awe as she had dyed the paper that morning, using large vats of oil-slicked water the color of deep petrol and summer days. Now she was hunched over, a bright light shining over her shoulder, cutting the most minuscule detail Everly could see.
Everly looked back to her enormous canvas, which sat on a large wooden easel to the side of her workbench. It was the perfect size for a portrait, but she wasn’t going to paint one.
The fact was, she knew she was capable of painting only one face at the moment. Edward’s. But if she painted him, then every feeling she had for him would be displayed in her art. How could she keep her feelings secret when everyone would be able to see them painted quite clearly on a six-foot canvas?
No, Everly had decided to go totally out of character and do a still life. A painting of the studio, a place she found neither mundane nor beautiful. It was just what it was. It made life easy for her too, there were no more trips out to research, no more awkward meetings with Edward’s acquaintances. Just the studio, a giant canvas, and her oils.
Not that she wasn’t going to paint Edward. She had decided to paint his portrait, but in private—a piece of art that only she would see. If she could not have a life with him, she could at least have a piece of art to remember him by.
Alison straightened herself up in the chair. Everly heard her shoulders clicking from across the room.
“This is thirsty work,” the older woman said, stretching, the scalpel in her hand glinting in the lights. “Can I make you a cuppa?”
Everly smiled at her.
“Thank you. Coffee please, white, no sugar.”
Alison headed out of the room, her spine and hips clicking as she went. Everly could imagine just how tense Alison must be, working so intricately. She too got sore shoulders when she was in the middle of a piece. Concentration seemed to take away the pain, but as soon as she brought herself away from the work and back to the studio space her joints would be screaming at her. She rolled her shoulders in both directions before carrying on with mixing her oils.
The door creaked shut, but Everly barely noticed, she was deeply focused on the mixing platter in front of her. The shade wasn’t blending properly and Everly was in danger of adding a little too much Sunset Yellow and ruining the whole batch. Her tongue was clamped firmly between her teeth as she squeezed the tube with precision.
“Everly?”
That did it. She over squeezed and a dollop of yellow splurged over her palette. Everly looked up, knowing exactly who she was going to see.
“Hello, Edward,” she said, her heart hammering under her apron.
“Everly, have you got a moment? I need to borrow you.”
“I’m free now,” she said. “Shall we chat here?”
Edward’s eyes darted around the room.
“Where is everybody?” He seemed to have only just noticed they were alone.
“It’s just me and Alison today, I’m not sure where the others are. Maybe out researching. I don’t know.”
“Could we step out for a moment, please?” he said, insistent.
“Sure, let me just…” She nodded towards the palette she held in her left hand.
“Of course,” he said, managing a smile.
He walked away from her workspace and Everly took a huge breath. She watched as he looked around at the artwork dotted on the workbenches. His hand reached out and pulled at the papers so that he could take a closer look. At Rory’s bench he smiled a sweet, lovable smile as he saw the papier mâché drying.
He’s so perfect, Everly thought, as she scraped the paint from her board into the trashcan by the sink. Shaking her head, she left the palette on her workbench and went to join Edward by the door.
“Ready?” he asked, his face looked tense.
“Ready,” she said, although she had no idea what she was ready for.
“I didn’t know we were expecting you today, Edward.” The door burst open and Alison came bumbling through with a cup in each hand. “Otherwise I would have made you one too.”
Edward laughed, and caught the door before it swung back and knocked both cups from her hands.
“Thank you, Alison, that’s very kind of you. I’m not stopping, I’ve just come by to speak with Everly…”
His cheeks were turning red, Everly could see it from where she was standing.
“About yesterday,” she interrupted. “I took some criticism a bit too badly and feel like a crazy person. Edward just wanted to make sure I’m okay.”
Edward wouldn’t catch her eyes so instead she turned back to Alison. She had a funny look on her face, bordering on suspicion. Oh no, she’s on to us, Everly thought, before realizing there was no us for Alison to be on to.
“Criticism, of you?” Alison said. “From Madam Baudelaire? I’m not surprised you took it badly. Your work is better than all of ours, Ev, and better than a lot of the work in her gallery. You shouldn’t be criticized. Everyone here knows you’re a natural talent. Well, mostly everyone.”
She gave a wry smile.
“Oh, my, thank you,” Everly said, blushing wildly. “But I’m not above being criticized. It was just a bit… I don’t know… I guess I was being crazy. Don’t think me conceited, I really don’t mind a bit of criticism.”
Everly was talking too quickly now and she knew it. She drew back behind Edward and shut her mouth so no more words would spill out.
“We won’t be long, I’ll have your company back in no time,” Edward said, still holding the door open. He ushered Everly out and gestured to the stairwell.
“Let’s head down. There’s a private viewing in the side room. It’s not open yet, we can talk there.”
Everly felt her stomach flip when she realized they’d be alone.
“Okay,” she answered, breathlessly.
They walked down the stairs in silence, an electricity flowing between them, charging the air. Everly nodded a smile to Arthur as they passed his stool, following Edward as he led her to the back of the main gallery and to a door marked Private.
The gallery was quiet—it mostly was during weekdays. A smattering of people were studying the paintings. Everly noticed a line of schoolchildren in pairs. They all had matching green uniforms and little fluorescent safety vests over the top. Their teacher looked harangued as she tried to keep them all in one place. The children looked as excited as they probably felt, being released from the confines of the school for a day. Everly smiled at the teacher and followed Edward through the door.
It clicked shut behind them and the noise of the gallery vanished in an ear-popping puff. Everly didn’t know where to look, so she turned to the artwork lining the walls. She walked slowly to the largest painting on the far wall, recognition buzzing in her brain.
“Oh, my goodness,” she said, more to herself than Edward.
Her head twisted this way and that, taking in the paintings one by one, each beautiful rendered scene cementing her recognition.
“This is Anderley,” she said, her voice muted by the space. “Like, the Anderley. Is it the real deal? Are they all originals? Not prints.”
She walked around, getting closer to the works to check their authenticity.
“There’s a new piece too,” Edward replied, his eyes twinkling. “Never before seen by anybody except Anderley himself, and of course the staff here.”
“No way.” The tension had dropped right out of her, borne away by the beautiful landscapes that plastered the walls. “Which one?”
She scanned the room, trying to find the painting she didn’t recognize.
“The birds.” Edward led her to a large oil on canvas with a flock of what looked like starlings in flight. Everly was surprised to find tears in her eyes. She was speechless. She stood there for a moment, taking in the work in all its glory, the way the birds seemed to move with each other, breaking through the oils as if they meant to fly into the day. It was stunning.
“All these pieces are on loan from their respective galleries around the world,” Edward said. “Not just the ones from the Mason, where he exhibits the most of his work. The new piece was the cherry on the icing on the rather delicious cake. Anderley did it especially for this exhibition.”
“Have you… have you met him?” she asked, hardly daring to hear the answer. Edward gave her an enigmatic smile.
“No, of course not,” he said. “Nobody has met him. His true identity is a complete secret. Sorry to disappoint you.”
“No, not at all,” she said, her voice a whisper. “What an honor it is to be able to see this. Thank you.”
They both stood there, looking at the birds, their bodies so close that Everly could feel the heat of his arm through his shirtsleeves. She almost wished she’d taken off her apron and worn something other than denim dungarees to work that morning. An exhibition like this needed jewels and evening dresses, hair in curls and a touch of lipstick. It needed a private invitation and a lot of money. Everly tried to think positively, though she knew she would never have the funds needed to attend a private viewing like this as anything other than a secret conversation snatched between work.
“I can’t stop thinking about you,” Edward said, his voice so close it brought gooseflesh to her arms.
They both looked at the painting, as if they knew that turning to one another would make the moment pop into nothing.
“I want us to give it a go,” he went on. “If that’s what you want too? I need it to be a secret, until the competition is over, and maybe longer. I’m not sure if that’s something you can agree to.”
The silence following his words was deafening, as if neither of them could remember how to breathe. Everly felt her chest tightening. Hadn’t she just promised herself that she would concentrate on her work and try not to think about Edward? Yet here he was, the man she had given her heart to, whether she liked it or not, telling her he wanted to be with her.
She slipped her hand inside his and squeezed, both of them still facing the painting.
“I think that sounds like a wonderful idea,” she said.
She could hear Edward’s sigh of relief, and he squeezed her hand back.
“You have no idea how happy that makes me,” he said.
“I think I do, because I feel it too.” And she did. The worries of the past few days—few weeks—evaporated when she took his hand. She felt as if everything would be okay, with the man she loved by her side. She was ready to take on the world. Or if not the world, then definitely the competition.
They finally turned to face each other, both of them with pink cheeks and sparkling eyes. Edward took Everly’s other hand and held on tight, looking her directly in the eyes. For a moment it was as if she too was a starling, darting through the air, the rush of wind exhilarating.
“Thank you,” he said, but his words were only a whisper.
Everly couldn’t speak, she was so focused on breathing. She leaned forward to try to catch his words. As she did so, he moved his head closer to hers. She rose on her tiptoes and her lips found his. Softly they kissed, barely touching, the feeling so intense that Everly pulled away, as if a flicker of electricity had passed from him into her. She put her fingertips to her
lips.
“Wow,” they said together.
The room seemed to come into focus once more, and Everly remembered that Edward had just said they’d have to keep their love a secret. Well they weren’t doing very well so far. A smile spread across her face as she caught him studying her—he looked at her in a way no-one had ever looked at her before, as if she too was a rare and glorious artwork.
“I’ll send a driver for you tonight,” he said, his cheeks dimpled with a grin. “Seven, don’t get dressed up or people will know you’re up to something.”
He touched her cheek, as lightly as if he held a brush. Then he turned and walked from the room, leaving her laughing, giddy and breathless beneath the birds.
18
“Where are we going?” Everly asked, as she climbed in the back of the Rolls Royce.
Her eyes were wide as she took in the enormous car, but Edward’s gaze was firmly fixed on her. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to look away even if his life depended on it. He’d asked her not to dress up, and even though she hadn’t, she still looked more beautiful than ever. She’d picked a pair of flattering jeans and the softest wool jumper he’d ever seen, in a blue that made her eyes shine.
“Have patience,” he said, checking that Matt the chauffeur was concentrating on the road and not the conversation in the back of his car. “You’ll see soon enough.” He leant in, whispering. “I hope you enjoy our first date.”
They linked hands, well out of sight of the rear view mirror. The touch of her hand in his seemed to channel warmth to the very center of him. He felt like the luckiest man alive, and it took every ounce of strength he had not to lean in and kiss her.
The car glided through the evening traffic as best it could. They hit a lot of red lights and queues, but Edward wasn’t in a hurry to reach his destination, not when he was holding the hand of such a wonderful woman. She was watching in awe as they passed through the streets, the lights dancing on her face, making her skin seem to glow. She really was perfect, from her beautiful dark glossy hair, which she’d let hang loose tonight, to her cute button nose, to her heart-shaped, kissable lips.
My Dashing Billionaire: A Clean Billionaire Romance (My Billionaire A-Z Book 4) Page 10
