Free The Secret Kiss of Darkness by Christina Courtenay Page B

tell me about yourself.’ Kayla’s heart was beating painfully against her ribcage. The excitement was almost unbearable. Finally she would find out who he was.
    ‘Very well.’ He looked towards the window, his expression serious and pensive, and began. ‘My name is Jago Kerswell. I lived in the village of Marcombe on the coast of Devon. I was born in the year 1754, the bastard son of a Gypsy woman called Lenora.’ Kayla looked up swiftly. That would explain his looks, she thought. ‘My father was Sir Philip Marcombe, of Marcombe Hall, but you’ll not find any evidence of that anywhere so you’ll have to take my word for it. He was a good man and did his duty by me, but of course he couldn’t acknowledge me openly.’ He paused for a moment to let the words sink in. When she looked up once more he continued. ‘Sir Philip’s legitimate son, John, my half-brother, married twice, the second time to a Miss Elizabeth Wesley. They were not happy together.’ He paused again and gazed into the distance, as if his thoughts were far from the present.
    ‘And …?’ Kayla prompted.
    ‘I’ll not bore you with the details, but Eliza and I fell in love and we met whenever Sir John was away, which fortunately for us was quite frequently. In the summer of 1781 we often went for excursions along the coast. There are many secluded coves and inlets where one can be private.’ He winked at her mischievously and she felt a smile spread over her features. ‘However, one afternoon we found, to our dismay, that we were not alone. An artist and his assistant had set up their easels on the beach, and we fell into conversation with them. They were painting seascapes, but when the older man caught sight of Eliza, he was seized with the urge to paint her instead. She was very beautiful, you see, and she reminded him of a mermaid or some such creature, he said.’ He waited once more for Kayla to take it all in. ‘Are you with me?’
    ‘Yes, I think I can remember all that.’ In fact she was drinking his words in, every last one clear in her mind, but she hoped the story would soon come to an end so she could be sure she didn’t forget any part of it.
    ‘Eliza agreed to pose for him on the condition the man would do a portrait of me as well, which she would pay him for, and so it came to pass. You see before you the, in my opinion, rather shoddy result. He wasn’t really interested in painting me. It was only Eliza who had fired his enthusiasm.’
    ‘But who was the artist? There’s no signature and nobody knew at the auction house where I bought you.’ Kayla still couldn’t believe she was having this conversation, but she didn’t want to question it just yet. She was enjoying the fantasy and for now it was enough that the man was talking to her.
    Jago. Even his name was wonderful.
    Jago chuckled. ‘His name was Thomas Gainsborough, but as this painting was done in secret we agreed he wouldn’t sign it. It is meant as a companion piece for the one of Eliza, which is properly signed, but of course the two could never hang together while Sir John was alive. They were eventually displayed side by side in the first floor gallery at Marcombe Hall, but at some point the one of me was sold. I’m not sure why or when. Now, however, it wouldn’t matter to anyone if we were together and that is where you come in. I want you to find Eliza’s portrait and hang mine next to it.’
    Kayla’s mouth had fallen open and she stared at him. ‘Thomas Gainsborough! You’re joking, right?’
    ‘No, I am perfectly serious.’
    Kayla flopped back on the sofa and covered her eyes with one hand. ‘Now I know for sure I’m dreaming again. Gainsborough. Right. Couldn’t my brain come up with anything more original?’
    ‘I don’t understand. What is wrong with Mr Gainsborough? I take it you have heard of him?’ Kayla glanced at Jago, but he looked genuinely confused.
    ‘Of course I have. Do you have any idea how valuable you … I mean