Priceless by Olivia Darling Page B

her. In fact, it is the very last portrait anyone ever painted of her. She was married that autumn and traveled to the States with her husband the following spring. Alas, she went into labor during the voyage anddied of complications, two hundred miles from New York.”
    “That’s terrible,” said Carrie.
    “Her baby survived. Perhaps you’re a descendant.”
    Carrie smiled coyly. “Nat Wilde,” she said, “you are too much.”
    Nat grinned at her like a fox making eyes at a chicken.
    On the other side of the room, Lizzy was having a slightly less enjoyable time. The moment she walked into the reception, she was pounced upon by Charlie Taylor. Unfortunately, Charlie, an old-school investment banker with halitosis, was not someone Lizzy much felt like flirting with. Not that he seemed to think the fact that he was thirty years her senior and had a face the same rich red as the gallery walls was any impediment to chatting her up. He kept insisting that he was interested in spending a “great deal of money” at the upcoming sale. Though, as far as she knew, Charlie Taylor hadn’t bought a painting through Ludbrook’s since 1993, Lizzy couldn’t risk calling his bluff. So she allowed herself to be backed into a corner. Charles boxed her in by leaning one arm against the wall and blasted her with breath that could have stripped paint. The only consolation was that Lizzy had a direct line of sight beneath his arm toward Nat and the woman he was talking to.
    Who was she? The woman was beautiful. Lizzy saw that at once. She looked so poised. Her hair was perfect. Her face had the elegant planes and proportions of a Hollywood star from the forties. Her dress was obviously expensive. And her jewels. Lizzy could tell from the way they sent out glittering sparks each time the woman moved her head that those enormous diamonds were real.
    Lizzy couldn’t help hating her. She almost certainlyhad a rich husband who doted on her, and now Nat seemed to be falling under her spell too.
    “Don’t you think?” asked Charlie.
    Lizzy realized that while she had been checking out the competition, Charlie had asked her a question.
    “I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t catch that. It’s terribly noisy in here.”
    “We could go outside?” Charlie suggested hopefully.
    “I’m at work,” Lizzy reminded him.
    Nat too was working very hard. He squired Carrie Barclay about the gallery, drawing to her attention paintings that he thought might be of interest. Nat was very skilled at figuring people out. With great subtlety he guided the conversation onto subjects that would give him an idea of her net worth. He talked about New York. She soon revealed she had an apartment with a lovely view of Central Park. Now, that was prime real estate. And Carrie didn’t seem in the least bit fazed as he took her to see paintings with reserve prices in the multiple millions. He soon decided that she was a big fish, and a jolly attractive one too, which helped. It made Nat’s work so much more pleasurable.
    Carrie glanced at her watch. Cartier, Nat clocked at once.
    “It’s getting late,” she said.
    “Have you eaten?” Nat asked suddenly.
    “No,” said Carrie. “I have a little work to do, so I thought I might just get room service back at my hotel.”
    “You most certainly will not,” said Nat. “You cannot come all the way to London to sit in your hotel room and eat an overpriced sandwich in front of CNN. Will you allow me to take you for an overpriced sandwich at my club instead?”
    “I don’t think so,” said Carrie.
    “I know. You’re absolutely right to refuse. I’m a strange man in a strange town. It’d be madness. But just about anyone in this room will vouch for me, and I promise that if you agree to have dinner with me, I will not give you preferential treatment when you come to the auction tomorrow.”
    Carrie laughed. “In that case … you’re on.”
    “Good girl. If you’ll excuse me for a moment,”