Forget to Remember

with that as long as young men were, too. “I’ve never modeled before—at least not nude.”
    “I’m told that once you get started, it’s like any other job and you forget about what you’re wearing. But if it’s too much to ask…”
    At least he didn’t call her an uptight Yank. “He’s working on a bowl of fruit.”
    “His skills are eclectic; he’s very versatile. He’s good at portraits. He’ll make you look beautiful, if that’s what you’re worried about. The fruit, by the by, is for Hermione. She’s got her own art collection. Needless to say, it’s a bit different than mine.”
    “I guess I’m a little afraid of being alone with him.”
    “Well, I’d love to be there—to protect you, of course.” Lord B gave a hint of a smile. “Unfortunately, I can no longer navigate the stairs. However, you’re safe with Sean. He’s a professional. If he did anything to hurt you, I’d have him castrated.”
    Carol was wincing too much to laugh. “All right, I’ll do it.”
    ***
    Carol found a post office, purchased an envelope and a stamp, and mailed a copy of the painting to Paul. Cognizant of the five-hour time difference with North Carolina, she called him on her cell phone late enough so he’d be in his office. She told him briefly what she’d found out. He was more excited than she thought he’d be.
    “That painting is the only proof she was actually in London other than the letter. Good work.”
    “Unfortunately, with the artist dead, I don’t know where to go from here.”
    “Maybe he had friends…”
    “Maybe, but I don’t know how to go about finding them. For one thing, he was French.”
    “Do you want to go to France?”
    She was sure he was being facetious. “Not right now.”
    “Well, keep on plugging. Maybe you’ll come up with something else. I miss you.”
    He missed her body. She wasn’t going to play that game. “I’m about to go on a tour of the House of Commons. If I find anything else, I’ll call you.”

    CHAPTER 27
    Over a breakfast of bacon and eggs and toast at the Balmoral, Carol decided she couldn’t possibly pose for Sean. Maybe she was an uptight Yank. Anyway, she had cold feet. Frozen feet. She would call him and cancel. She was supposed to be at his loft at nine. She would call him at eight. He should be up by then.
    At eight o’clock she was ready for the day. The thought occurred to her that if she didn’t pose, she didn’t have anything else on her schedule. She was at a dead end as far as Cynthia was concerned. She decided to walk to Sean’s loft—it couldn’t be over two miles—and tell him face-to-face she wouldn’t pose for him. That would give her something to do and be less cowardly than telling him on the phone.
    She joined the throngs of walkers rushing to tube stations or other destinations. She almost got hit by a bus when she looked the wrong way before crossing a street and felt invigorated from the walk itself. By the time she arrived at Sean’s building, she’d put together an explanation for him, succinct yet logical. He would understand her reasons.
    She rang his intercom button. He verified who she was and buzzed her in. She walked up the three flights of stairs. He yelled that the door was open in response to her knock. She went in and prepared to launch into her speech. He was setting up his easel and paints and barely looked at her.
    “You can change in the WC. I put a robe in there. I’ve figured out a pose you should be able to hold without giving you a permanent bad back.” He chuckled.
    Now was the time to talk to him. Carol wished he would stop working and turn in her direction. He had rigged up a set, consisting of a low platform with a skeleton frame on it—a window. He had already spent a lot of time getting it ready.
    She could picture herself looking out the window in the painting. If done right, the painting could be beautiful, as Lord Binghamton had said. Cynthia had been immortalized, wherever she was. In a hundred years, her painting might be worth millions of dollars—or pounds. Carol decided if Cynthia could pose nude, she could, too.
    “Well, get a move on. We don’t have all day.”
    Sean’s words stimulated her to action. She headed for the bathroom. She took off her clothes and was about to put on the robe when she saw her abdominal scar in the mirror. It was ugly. She had completely forgotten about it. She couldn’t model like that.
    She quickly put on the robe and walked out