And he had seen more than enough!
Cyril decided he would just have to risk Dani’s ire, because, by God, he could stand back no longer. He knew Drakar was after the painting, and he knew why, and he would be damned if that Russian scamp was going to beat him out on both counts—the painting and Dani!
Cyril opened the door and walked in. “Good day!” he announced coldly, loudly. “Far be it from me to be accused of spying again.”
Dani and Drake had sprung apart at the sound of the bell above the door, and Drake regarded Cyril with controlled rage. “Are you a customer, Arpel?”
“A connoisseur, monsieur,” Cyril fired back acidly. “I purchase art for my patrons. I understand you are a collector of a different sort.” He raised his head ever so slightly, sniffed with disdain as his gaze swept over Drake contemptuously.
Drake stiffened but, with an amused smile, said, “Perhaps since you seem so interested in my business, we should arrange to discuss it at a time when there is not a lady present.”
Cyril raised an eyebrow, emitted a nervous laugh of incredulity. “Sir, are you alluding to an affaire d‘honneur?”
Drake shrugged. “Who can say what the future holds?”
Dani stepped between them. “Stop it, the two of you. There’s no need for this.”
Cyril glared at Drake but spoke to Dani. “I came here to inspect your shop merchandise. Can he claim to have had the same purpose?”
Drake shook his head, as though confronted by a fool not worthy of his time or attention. “Dani, I bid you good day. I’ll call for you at seven.”
Then, without so much as a glance in Cyril’s direction, he turned and walked out of the shop.
At once, Dani whirled on Cyril, who promptly threw up his hands in surrender and cried in defense, “I’m a customer! I walked into your shop and announced my presence so I’d not be accused of spying like last time. It’s not my fault if Drakar resents customers coming into your shop!”
Dani sighed. What was the use? He was being childish…and also jealous, but there was no point in accusing him of that. “All right, all right. We’ll just forget it. Now,” she said with exaggerated cheer, “how may I help you?”
Cyril was relieved. She was going to let it pass. Quickly, he began to recite the story he’d made up. “I have a patron who has heard about the paintings you found in Monaco, and he’s interested in purchasing the entire group so he can display them in his private collection as the Monaco Find.
“After all,” he rushed to point out, “all of Paris, and perhaps much of France, has heard about the discovery of those paintings. Interest is keen. It would be quite advantageous to possess all the paintings you found in one, complete collection.”
Dani nodded. That certainly made sense. She turned to where the paintings were displayed, pursed her lips thoughtfully. Then her eyes fell upon the unrefined painting of the Russian palace. “I don’t want to sell that one.”
Cyril moaned inwardly. Why was she being so stubborn about one crude little painting? She did not know the secret behind it, and he doubted Drakar had told her but maybe he was working on her emotionally, telling her that the painting reminded him of his boyhood home, or some such nostalgic melodramatics intended to engender her compassion and sympathy.
“But my patron insists on purchasing the entire collection,” he repeated emphatically.
“Well, that’s just too bad. He can’t have the entire collection. I don’t want to sell the little one.
“Besides,” she added, somewhat wistfully as she looked at the painting once more, “it’s overshadowed by the others, and I find that rather pathetic.”
Cyril slapped his forehead in frustration. “You don’t understand. By itself, that wretched little painting is worthless. With the others, as part of a collection, it becomes valuable. And,” he pointed out accusingly, “you’re going to cheat me out of a handsome commission.”
Dam was unmoved. “Your profits aren’t my concern, Cyril, and need I remind you I didn’t open this shop merely for personal gain? It’s a hobby, and if I don’t make any money, I won’t starve, so I can afford to keep anything that strikes my fancy, and that little painting, wretched though you call it, happens to strike my fancy. I won’t sell it.”
Cyril saw the way her brown eyes began to flash with sparkles of topaz and knew he was pressing; he decided, for the moment, to back away. “Very well,” he sighed. “it’s your prerogative.”
Dani thought that perhaps she was being foolish to keep the painting when its value was only as part of the whole collection. Yet, there was still that strange, nagging little feeling that made her want to keep it—or, she reluctantly acknowledged to herself, maybe Drake had something to do with it. He did seem to have an affinity for the work. Perhaps, subconsciously, she was keeping it for him, and that, most certainly, was a supposition she would dwell upon in depth in the future.
Exasperated, she repeated, “It just isn’t for sale, Cyril. I can’t understand all the furor over it, anyway. I can understand Drake wanting it, for sentimental reasons, but a collector? It seems strange.” She shook her head.
So, Cyril silently fumed, Drakar was using pathos. Well, by God and everything holy, so could he!
Stepping closer to the painting, he chuckled softly. “I suppose this would evoke some memories for him. After all, it must be a terrible thing to be banished from your homeland…” He hesitated only long enough for his words to be absorbed, but not long enough for Dani to question. “It brings back memories for me, too, like the first time I saw Mathilde Kschessinskaya dance.”
Dani was properly impressed. “You saw her? Oh, I’m envious. Drake says he’s seen her dance too.”
Again, a sardonic chuckle. “Of course he has. He was once a close friend of the Czar’s son, Nicholas, and they went many times together to see the Imperial Ballet in Saint Petersburg. Did he also tell you that Nicholas is said to be madly in love with the prima ballerina?”
Dani was at once ignited with interest. “No, he didn’t, and please tell me everything you know about her.” She sat down on a velvet settee, patted the place beside her.
Cyril was pleased with himself; he knew Dani liked being treated to intimate tidbits concerning her idol. He proceeded to relate the gossip of the. Russian court but did not admit it had come to him by way of some of his patrons. Let her believe he was a privileged insider.
He told how Nicholas had first met Mathilde Kschessinskaya in the spring of 1890 when the entire imperial family attended the graduation performance of the Imperial Ballet School, and, afterward, the supper. “That summer she was selected to join the troupe which danced for the officers at Krasnoe Selo, where Nicholas was on duty with the Guards. He saw her every day, and it’s said they’ve been having a romance ever since.”
He lowered his voice conspiratorially. “It’s rumored they have secret rendezvous on the banks of the Neva, and not long ago, it’s said he gave her a gold bracelet set with diamonds and sapphires.”
Dani sighed. “A French prima ballerina and the next Czar of Russia. It’s like a fairy tale, isn’t it?”
“Not really.” Cyril was quick to disagree. “They say the younger sister of Grand Duchess Elizabeth, the wife of Nicholas’s uncle, Grand Duke Serge, is interested in him. She’s a German princess, Alexandra Feodorovna of Hesse, and he is also seeing her.”
“Well, it all seems terribly romantic, and I think you’re very fortunate to enjoy a career that lets you travel and meet such interesting people.”
Cyril beamed, pushed on, pointed toward the painting with relish. “That reminds me of some wonderful times.”
Dani was once more impressed. “You’ve been inside the palace?” she asked, awed.
“Oh, of course.” He laughed, as though it were ludicrous to assume he had not. No harm in stretching the truth. After all, he had been inside the palace, once, to deliver a painting, but she did not have to know it was not a social visit.
“Yes,” he continued. “I
remember well the terraces, statutes, gardens, and, inside, the long hallways and the magnificent gold-and-crystal chandeliers.”
Dani yearned to go there one day. “You have a gallery in Russia, don’t you?” she probed thoughtfully.
He explained it was actually only a small office and showroom. “When I have something of particular interest or value to several patrons, I go there to set up and receive their bids, and, eventually, sell the piece. Should you venture to Russia on your own buying excursions, let me know and I’ll gladly make my facilities available to you.”
Dani said she might just take him up on his kind offer. Just then the door opened with a loud, almost rude jangling of the bell. Dani was surprised to see her half-brother striding purposefully toward her. From the tight, set expression on his face, it was obvious he was angry.
He addressed himself to Cyril in a curt, almost rude voice. “I’d like to speak to my sister in private, if you don’t mind.”
Cyril silently cursed the interruption, but on the surface he was the epitome of understanding. “Of course. I was just leaving anyway.” He kissed Dani’s hand and walked out of the shop, all the while thinking how he would find an excuse to return later.
When Colt and Dani were alone, Dani at once worriedly asked, “Whatever is wrong? You seem terribly upset. Has something happened at home?”
“No, no. Nothing like that.” He ran his fingers through thick waves of dark hair, glanced absently about the shop, took a deep breath, let it out slowly.
Dani felt she would surely go mad if he kept her in suspense any longer and was about to tell him so when the words seemed to explode from his lips.
“I’m getting married.”
She stared at him, too shocked to speak.
Colt at once stiffened. “Well? Don’t you have anything to say?”
She was taken aback by his belligerence. Apparently, he was not happy about his announcement, but why take it out on her? Testily, she demanded, “What do you want me to say?”
“You might try ‘Congratulations’.”
“Are congratulations in order?”
“That’s normally what people say when someone tells them they’re going to get married.”
“Of course, when they’re happy about it. You obviously aren’t.”
“What makes you say that?”
“Go look in a mirror. You aren’t exactly the image of a happy groom-to-be.”
Colt allowed the remark to pass. “You haven’t even asked who I’m marrying.”
Dani shrugged. “That’s no mystery. The only woman you’ve been seeing in Paris is Lily.”
“And you don’t like her!” he said accusingly.
“I never said that.”
“You didn’t have to. It’s obvious you and Mother both don’t like her.”
“What difference does it make whether we do or don’t? We aren’t the ones who’ll have to live with her. But isn’t this all a bit sudden? You’ve only known her a short while, Colt. And have you told our parents?”
“Tonight. I’m telling them tonight. That’s why I came here to see you first.”
Dani raised an eyebrow. “Why?”
“So you can find somewhere else to go tonight,” he tersely informed her. “Things will be tense enough without you starting another fight like last night, which, by the way, ruined the whole goddamn evening for everybody. I don’t want a repeat performance tonight.”
Dani felt a wave of fury moving violently from head to toe. How dare he march in to her shop and speak to her this way? What if there had been customers? Obviously, it would not have mattered, the state he was in. “Don’t worry,” she told him stiffly. “I won’t be home for dinner. This is one party I want to be sure and miss.”
His nostrils flared with the intensity of his ire as he met her furious gaze with his own eyes. “Fine! That’s all I wanted.”
He turned on his heel and strode angrily toward the door.
Dani watched him and, despite the way he had made her so angry, could not help but experience a twinge of compassion. What evil spell had that nasty, little Lily Deauneve cast over him to make him want to marry her? It was obvious he was terribly upset. She hurried after him. “Colt…wait, please…”
His hand was on the doorknob, but he hesitated, did not turn around, back stiff, rigid. “What is it? I’m in a hurry.”
Hesitantly, she placed her fingertips on his shoulder in a gesture she hoped he would interpret as one of love, caring, and compassion. “Colt, listen,” she said softly. “I know we’ve had problems in the past, and since you came to Paris we haven’t become close as I would’ve liked. I’ve just been busy with the shop, and Drake, and you’ve had Lily, and there just hasn’t been time for us to really get to know each other. But I want you to know that I do love you and care about you, and I’m worried now, because I just can’t help feeling that this marriage isn’t what you want.”
Colt shrugged away her caress but did not turn around, his voice as frigid as his pose. “Mind your own business, Dani. I didn’t ask for your approval or your opinion. I just asked you to stay away tonight and give us all some peace.”
Dani held her anger in check, managed to keep her voice warm, even. “Believe me, I’m not trying to meddle, but please talk with Poppa, or Kitty, before you get too deeply committed to this.”
Suddenly, he whirled around and pointed an accusing finger beneath her nose. “Stay out of it, Dani,” he cried harshly. “If it hadn’t been for you being such a spoiled brat and letting Alaina Barbeau spirit you away from our family, none, of this would’ve happened. You’d have been where you were supposed to be, and I wouldn’t have made a fool of myself and damn near lost the entire family fortune.”
He yanked the door open with a vengeance, started out, then hesitated.
Dani stared after him, eyes misting with stinging tears. How could he blame her for everything? She shook her head slowly from side to side, shocked and hurt.
Then, in a voice choked with his own anguish, Colt spoke over his shoulder. “Besides, it doesn’t make a damn difference what I want. I don’t intend to make the same mistake twice.”
Then he hurried out, down the cobbled street, and Dani could only stand in the doorway and stare helplessly after him.
Chapter Sixteen
Dani decided to close the shop earlier than usual. All had been quiet since Colt’s disturbing visit, so she locked the doors at three o’clock and went home, thinking how nice it would be to have some time to herself before Drake arrived. A leisurely bath and a glass of wine would do wonders to dispel the agitation Colt had incited.
At quarter past three, Cyril arrived at the shop. He stared at the CLOSED sign in the window, and his eyes at once narrowed with rising anger. So, he fumed, Dani was so excited over her coming tryst with Drakar that she could not wait to get home to start readying herself for it. Well, that was just fine, because he knew where Drakar lived, had made it his business to learn everything he could about the man once he realized they were both after the same things—the painting and Dani Coltrane. He had overheard their conversation earlier, knew they were planning a cozy little dinner together at Drakar’s apartment, and he would just arrange to be outside to keep his eye on things. Drakar did not know it yet, he fumed, but he had a fight on his hands. This was one war Cyril did not intend to lose, no matter the cost or consequences.
Dani was relieved to arrive at the mansion and find no one about downstairs. She hurried up to the sanctity of her room, but her peace was short-lived. She had not yet had time to ring for her maid to draw her bath before there was a loud, insistent knock on her door. With a sigh of dread, she opened it—and there stood Lily.
She was grinning triumphantly, head held high. “I know you know. Colt said he was going to your shop to tell you.”
Dani nodded curtly, felt her teeth grinding together instinctively as she fought to quell the resentment bubbling within. She did not like this snitty girl, hated the thought of
having her for a sister-in-law, but was damned if she would make a scene. After all, it was Colt’s life, and she could certainly defend his right to live it as he chose.
“Congratulations, Lily,” she finally said in a voice void of emotion or enthusiasm. “I hope you’ll both be very happy. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have things to do.”
Lily ignored her request and breezed into the room and sat herself down on the divan next to the window and demurely folded her hands in her lap. Then, with a deeply beseeching expression on her face—acquired after too many hours of practice before a mirror—she looked at Dani and said imploringly, “Can you forgive me for my rudeness yesterday? I had no business saying what I said about Drakar.”
Dani had not moved away from the door. She knew, instinctively, that Lily was up to something. But what? And why? Apparently, she had what she wanted—a proposal from Colt. Finally, she responded. “That’s quite all right, Lily, don’t worry about it. Now if you don’t mind, as I said, I do have some things to tend to.”
Lily made no move to get up, merely continued to look at her in that pleading way. “I want us to be friends, Dani. Good friends.”
Unable to hide the tension in her voice, Dani tightly murmured, “We have no problems, Lily…if you will just allow me to get on with what I was doing,” she added pointedly.
Lily flashed a bright smile. “Colt and I want to be married as soon as possible. Since I have no family to speak of, my poor uncle is too ill to travel and all, we thought it best we just go ahead and get married and skip much of the pre-wedding formalities, but we do want a beautiful wedding, and we want you to help us plan it.”
Dani blinked, astonished. Under the circumstances, she did not want to be involved. With a shake of her head, she declined. “That’s out of the question. I’m going to be quite busy with my travel plans, and—”
“You don’t understand!” Lily leaped to her feet and hurried to stand before her. “I must have your help and Kitty’s. Between the two of you, you can put something together almost as lavish as that party you had when you opened your shop. You and she know lots of people. Colt is your brother, and whether you truly like me or not, you owe it to him, and—”
Love and Splendor: The Coltrane Saga, Book 5 Page 16