“Rothvale? You just said Rothvale.” She jerked her hand, stopping us dead in our tracks as we walked toward the Jeep, her eyes round with surprise.

“Yeees… because Rothvale is the baronial title I inherited.” What had got her all wound up now?

“Oh, my blessed God, you’re Lord Rothvale, aren’t you!”

She shrieked the accusation at me and stomped her foot, all worked up over something yet again—and ever so lusciously fuckable to me. I wanted to haul her away somewhere for a quick and dirty shag just to take the edge off. I could have those jeans off her in seconds, and the horse barn would do just fine for a bit of privacy—

“I just figured it out,” she continued breathily, green eyes still wide. “I—I did not know, Ivan. Nobody ever mentioned your title—just your name. Most of the discussion focused on the large amount of uncatalogued paintings you’d inherited, and how you were in need of someone to come over here to take a look in case you had something significant in your collection. Paul Langley had only told me you were a generous patron from an old aristocratic family, and pretty much blackmailed me into accepting the assignment that first time.”

“Okay…” I paused, unsure where this line of thought was leading. What did my title have to do with anything? “Well, I’ve already told you how pleased I am that you’ve come, I really think there’s a bit of fate at work here, don’t you? I’ve so much bloody art. You’re a specialist in art. I like—”

“My thesis, Ivan.” She pushed her hand on my chest to stop my rambling.

“And your thesis is about?” I really wished she might fill me in at some point because I was not grasping the plot at all.

“Mallerton. My thesis is on Tristan Mallerton, probably the most important Romanticist painter that ever lived. He painted works that were unique and vibrant with life, absent of the dark, stiff, formality that marked the work of artists that came before him. His talent was new and amazing for the period. Innovative. I know you’ve mentioned to me that you have a Mallerton or two in your collection, but I didn’t really have a lot of faith that you knew what you were talking about. Finding Mrs. Gravelle’s wedding portrait on your stairwell this morning made me hopeful there might be another undiscovered Mallerton here. And then you told me about the ladies playing cards… and now I find out you are freaking Lord Rothvale.” She sighed and shook her head back and forth slowly. “I can’t believe the irony.”

I smiled at her, actually having enjoyed her passionate speech about the genius talent of Mallerton. She could hold her own in a parliamentary pulpit, I would wager, but I still was missing the point of her art history lesson in regard to me. “I still haven’t worked out why my being Lord Rothvale is significant, Gabrielle. Don’t get me wrong, I am grateful you seem to be so impressed with my title, but I don’t ever really use it except formally for parliamentary functions—”