The Painted Lady Read Online Free Page B

skilled men and knows how to get the best out of them. It’s a pleasant change for him to work on a house in the French style.’
    ‘Designed by a genius of his profession.’
    ‘I merely followed where you led, Monsieur.’
    ‘Every idea you give me, it is very good.’
    Christopher was grateful for the compliment but felt that it was undeserved. He had not so much designed the house as copied it from a set of prints that his client had brought from France, incorporating features from a number of them, into a unified whole. What had needed skill was the problem of adjusting the dimensions of the various elements to the available land. Since the site was not large, the house would have a narrower façade than he would have liked but he compensated for the lack of width by introducing additional height. Occupying a position between houses with Dutch gables, the Villemot residence would certainly stand out.
    ‘I love the wooden model you show me,’ said the artist.
    ‘Good. An immense amount of work went into it.’
    ‘I cannot wait to show it to my wife, Monique.’
    ‘The model or the house?’
    ‘Both, mon ami !’
    ‘Sam Littlejohn will not keep you waiting,’ Christopher promised him. ‘He builds fast and he builds well. Now that spring is here, he can count on better weather. He does not dally.’
    ‘Then he is the man after my own heart. Some artists, they take an age before they even begin a painting. Not me. At a first sitting,’ said Villemot, with a gesture towards the easel near the window, ‘I draw all the sketches I need. At the second, I am putting paint on the canvas. My rivals, they say that I rush things.’
    ‘They are simply jealous of you.’
    ‘None of my clients complain.’
    ‘I’m not surprised,’ said Christopher, looking around the studio. ‘I’ve seen some of your portraits and they are exceptional.’
    ‘Does that mean you wish me to paint you, Christopher?’
    ‘No, no! I’m not a suitable subject.’ He smiled as an image of Susan Cheever came into his mind. ‘But I may know someone who is.’
    The Frenchman winked at him. ‘A lady?’
    ‘A very special lady.’
    There was a tap on the door and it opened to admit Emile, who escorted Araminta Culthorpe into the studio. Taken aback by her poise and beauty, Christopher blinked in astonishment. The whole room seem to fill with her fragrance. After dismissing Emile with a nod, Villemot moved forward to greet her.
    ‘And here is another very special lady,’ he said, bestowing a kiss on the back of her hand. ‘Delighted to see you again, Lady Culthorpe.’
    ‘Thank you, Monsieur Villemot.’
    The artist stood back to introduce her to Christopher. When she heard his surname, the smile froze on her lips and she became wary.
    ‘You are not related to Henry Redmayne, I hope,’ she said.
    ‘My brother,’ confessed Christopher.
    ‘I see no resemblance at all between you.’
    ‘I think you’ll find none, Lady Culthorpe. We do not look alike, think alike, or act alike. Henry and I have chosen very different paths through life. While he works at the Navy Office, I toil away as an architect.’
    ‘Christopher has designed the house for me,’ explained Villemot.
    ‘Oh,’ said Araminta with interest.
    ‘I showed you the model yesterday.’
    ‘It was very striking. Did you build it, Mr Redmayne?’
    ‘No, Lady Culthorpe,’ he replied. ‘I drew up the plan but someone else did the carpentry. Actually, it was his first venture.’
    ‘Then you must retain his services. I’ve never seen anything so intricately done. It was like a magnificent doll’s house.’
    ‘Wait until it’s built. Then you’ll see it in its full glory.’
    ‘I look forward to doing so, Mr Redmayne.’
    While she had been speaking, Araminta had been appraising him and she was clearly impressed by what she saw. She decided that it was unjust to take a dislike to him because he bore a surname that she had come to detest. For his part, Christopher