Free Artful Deceptions by Patricia Rice

piece, but neither of them believed the canvas had been stolen to be resold.
    “I have met Sir Thomas upon occasion,” she said. “He can be disagreeable when he chooses, but my father’s opinion means too much to him for him to be openly rude to me. There is something to be said for having an art critic in the family.”
    Her wry tone made Galen glance down, but the calm of her oval face reflected nothing more than her words. Offering his arm, he guided her into the apartment to meet the great painter.
    When introductions and courtesies were over and Sir Thomas understood that they were there neither to request a sitting nor to make a purchase, he huffed and puffed for a while before finally condescending to find the time to answer a few questions. Upon discovering that it was the stolen painting that concerned them, he once again became affable.
    “Yes, I could not believe that piece came to light again. I had to go see it for myself. Amazing. One of my better early works, I must say, although today’s portraits show the benefit of greater experience. I was most dismayed to hear it had been purloined. And you say the piece belonged to you, Miss Richards? However did you persuade your father to part with it?”
    Arianne had the grace to blush, and Galen stepped in to avoid the confession. “Miss Richards came upon it personally. We thought perhaps if we knew more of the origins of the piece, we might have a better idea of why it was stolen, and then we would be that much closer to the thief. Could you tell us anything of the subject?”
    The artist drew his regal brow down in a frown of thoughtfulness. “It was one of my early works, as I said. I did not do formal sittings then.”
    Understanding the artist’s hesitation as a desire not to reveal his rather plebeian origins, Galen carefully eased his predicament. “We think we have some idea of the background. I would think only the sitters would be of interest. The woman had almost a Gypsy look to her, but she and the boy were gowned so richly that they must have been of good birth.”
    Sir Thomas nodded affirmatively. “Yes, I quite remember now. Handsome woman. Can’t remember the name. Can’t remember what happened to the painting after I completed it.” He threw Arianne a look of suspicion. “But the man who paid for it did not take it. He sent me a generous sum and said to do with it as I will.” He waited for the surprise of his listeners and was amply rewarded.
    “He paid you for a portrait he did not keep?” Astonished, Arianne could not keep the words from her mouth.
    “Wealthy men are inclined to be eccentric. It had nothing to do with the quality of the painting, I might add, for he never saw the finished work. From gossip I heard afterward, I was inclined to believe that the woman had died. Perhaps, in his grief, he could not bear to see the likeness.”
    “And you can remember nothing of the name? That would be a most valuable piece of information if you could provide it.” Attired in a brown hammer-tailed coat and immaculate buff breeches, impatiently snapping his beaver hat against his leg, Galen appeared every inch the commanding lord as he stared down the artist’s reluctant pose.
    “It has been a long time, Locke. I would be fortunate to remember my own mother’s name after the passing of so many years. Only the circumstances caused me to remember the work at all.”
    Unsatisfied with this, Galen ungallantly probed further. “The setting is Welsh, is it not? I believe I recognize the mountain in the background.”
    Stiffly the artist drew himself up and nodded. “One must experience all types of settings before one can develop the expertise to know the best.”
    “Does the name Llewellyn mean anything to you?” Arianne couldn’t bear the suspense any longer. Rhys had known the subject of the painting, of that she was certain. And with a name like his, he had to have a Welsh heritage. The coincidence was too much to be