Chapters (50)
- Cover
- Half Title Page
- Books by Elizabeth Camden
- Title Page
- Dedication
- One
- Two
- Three
- Four
- Five
- Six
- Seven
- Eight
- Nine
- Ten
- Eleven
- Twelve
- Thirteen
- Fourteen
- Fifteen
- Sixteen
- Seventeen
- Eighteen
- Nineteen
- Twenty
- Twenty-One
- Twenty-Two
- Twenty-Three
- Twenty-Four
- Twenty-Five
- Twenty-Six
- Twenty-Seven
- Twenty-Eight
- Twenty-Nine
- Thirty
- Thirty-One
- Thirty-Two
- Thirty-Three
- Thirty-Four
- Thirty-Five
- Thirty-Six
- Thirty-Seven
- Thirty-Eight
- Thirty-Nine
- Historical Note
- Questions for Discussion
- In 2021, look for Luke Delacroix’s story in
- About the Author
- Back Ads
- Back Cover
It was Vermeer’s painting of the lady reading a letter. The breath left her in a rush. Her heart felt full to overflowing, and she was speechless.
Nathaniel closed the distance between them and took her hand. “I’ll never forget what you said about this painting. How it’s about loyalty and the importance of hope, even in a sometimes bleak and dark world. Your brother is a brilliant negotiator. It took some haggling to convince the director to sell it to us, but we got there in the end.”
Before she could say anything, Nathaniel lifted away more of the canvas, revealing the painting of the girl with the rabbit behind the Vermeer.
“This one is a fake,” he said. “I was finally able to prove it to the director of the museum, and he wanted it off his walls.”
“I love it,” she said. “I love them both and I love you. I’ll never forget that day in the museum. It was when I first glimpsed that soul of an artist you’ve got hidden deep inside. It was when I started falling in love with you.”
Her knees were losing strength. She felt overwhelmed and plopped down into the only available chair, hand clutched over her heart as she gazed at the Vermeer, awed that he’d gotten it for her.
And the fake one of the girl with the rabbit. She couldn’t help but smile as she looked at it, for it was charming and silly and she loved it, even if it was a fake.
She nodded to it. “Are you going to track down the artist who made that counterfeit Vermeer?”
“Only if you want me to.”
She looked at him in surprise. “You’re willing to let him get away?”
The corners of his eyes crinkled as he sent her a gentle smile. “I can’t solve all the crimes in the world. I used to think my highest calling was to put duty before all else. I’ve learned a few things over the past month. Life is short. We can’t know what it holds in store for us, but I won’t ever take you for granted again. I asked to be demoted back down to this office because it means I’ll be able to put you first. I’ll be able to stay in Washington. I love you too much to risk letting a job stand in the way of making you happy.”
Her breathing became ragged again. “Don’t make me cry,” she sniffled. “I’ve cried far too much in the past few weeks.”
He rushed to kneel at her side. “When have you cried?”