“How long have you been Lord Rothvale, Ivan?”

“Nearly four years. Why?”

“You really don’t know, do you?” She stared at me now, hands on hips, with the breeze moving single strands of her hair in all directions.

“Know what, Gabrielle? What don’t I know?” We needed a new topic of conversation, stat. This one was going in useless circles.

“Lord Rothvale number nine is credited for making the career of Tristan Mallerton. He was an early philanthropist for the arts and even one of the original founding members of The National Gallery. He recognized the talent in the young artist and was motivated to nurture that talent by becoming Mallerton’s mentor and patron. Lord Rothvale IX and Tristan Mallerton were also very close lifelong friends.”

Ahh, the light bulb switched on and even my thick skull allowed in some illumination. If my ancestor was Mallerton’s mentor, even I was capable of connecting those dots easily enough. I wasn’t that dense. “I knew of the part about Rothvale’s involvement in the founding of The National Gallery. My sole reason for having to attend Gallery’s charity galas, and, luckily for me, the sole reason I first encountered you, Miss Hargreave.” I smiled, remembering how perfect it felt to have her coming apart in my arms.

Gabrielle, however, had more to say, and ignored my dirty reference to our first meeting completely. “Mallerton lived with the family; painting exclusively for Lord Rothvale, who provided a home and a studio so he could focus on his craft with no financial burdens. Without the forward thinking of your Lord Rothvale ancestor, Tristan Mallerton would probably have been lost to the ravages of history because he was born poor. And that would have been an incalculable tragedy.”

She gave me a self-satisfied smirk as she finished her second scholarly speech in as many minutes. But I could see how the scale had just dipped in my favor. Significantly. I wouldn’t be complaining about it either. If my title was going to help keep Gabrielle at Donadea where I could enjoy her, then the useless thing was finally a fucking bonus for once. Thank you, Uncle Matthew. “So, am I to understand that my Rothvale legacy art collection just became a bit more of a commodity than you initially thought?”

“Yes! Oh yes, Ivan, there’s no telling what you have here at Donadea. I have to see it. Your paintings. Now.” She sounded and looked desperate. “Please show me,” she begged with a sharp tug to my hand.

“You know, Miss Hargreave, you are incredibly fuckin’ sexy when you beg.”

“I’ll keep that in mind, Lord Rothvale,” she told me with a backward glance over her shoulder and a devilish little wink, “for later.” Then she pulled us toward the Willys and flashed me the stunning view that was her arse in some tight jeans.

My cock really appreciated her efforts. I supposed my trip to the gallery with Gabrielle was going to be pleasurably memorable as well. I would make sure she got a full and thorough tour, as a good host should always do.