I realized as I checked myself in the mirror that Ivan was going to get a dose of me au naturel today. No makeup, and damp hair that had been combed out and French braided into one braid on the side. I found a hair band in the pocket of my jeans, miraculously still in there after laundering. There wasn’t a thing I could do about it, though, and I decided if he didn’t like me this way, then it was going to be his problem. He’d seen me a mess already anyway after our swim and he didn’t seem to mind. In fact, Ivan went out of his way to tell me I was beautiful. I switched off the light in the bathroom and set out to find him, thinking it was really nice to be told you were beautiful. I wanted to believe it. So badly, I wanted to believe it. My problem wasn’t the beauty on the outside though. I could deal with that. It was the inside part of me I doubted. I’d been very selfish and sinful once, and for that I still must atone.

I retraced my way from what I remembered this morning when we went to the pool house for our swim. As I made my way down, I allowed myself to really take in the art displayed everywhere around me. The walls were covered and so was the grand staircase. In the daylight I could see the beauty in the paint, and it made me giddy. My throat got tight and I had to forcibly keep my excitement under control because there was so much. I knew I could get lost in these works, and it had nothing to do with the oh-so-charming and sexy owner. He helped of course, but Ivan’s art collection could hold its own no problem whatsoever.

My eyes found a painting on the stairwell with a subject I recognized immediately. It was a slightly different version of my favorite Mallerton on display in The National Gallery. What we call a simulacrum in the art trade. The young bride on the white horse—Mrs. Gravelle. Same beautiful girl with long dark hair in her wedding finery riding a magnificent white stallion decked out for the occasion. Only in this version, the pose was altered somewhat for the horse and rider. I stared in awe. Holy shit, I was looking at another Mallerton which wasn’t even in the archives. I found his signature and leaned closer to scrutinize the structure of the letters without the benefit of my glasses. It absolutely presented as authentic from first glance. The painting was in need of general cleaning, but otherwise perfectly gorgeous decorating the grand stairwell of Donadea. I wanted so badly to take it with me back to London for further examination. It would be a dream job to bring this version of Mrs. Gravelle back to her original glory. And this was just one single painting of many, many more just waiting for some attention. I was still reeling from the discovery of the Mallerton at Hallborough this weekend at the wedding. The family portrait of Sir Jeremy and Lady Georgina Greymont with their children. That made two uncatalogued works of Mallerton’s discovered in as many days. Crazy. I might need to bring in someone to help me, or at least ask Ben to come and take initial inventory photos—