Elusive As The Unicorn
Sophy glanced at her husband, and at his warning look she brushed off her irritation with a sigh, relaxing slightly. ‘Are you both having a good time?’ she enquired lightly.
‘Not bad, thanks,’ Paul answered for them stiltedly, completely unbending in his own resentment.
Green eyes flashed angrily. ‘I gather you haven’t reconsidered my suggestion about the showing at the gallery for the winter?’ she snapped, completely impervious to Patrick’s warning for caution now, her quick-fire temper getting the better of her in the face of Paul’s bloody-mindedness.
Paul returned her gaze coldly. ‘Have you?’
‘Come on, you two,’ Patrick interrupted lightly, shooting Eve an apologetic smile. ‘This is no place to be discussing business.’
Sophy continued to glare at Paul for several tension-filled seconds before slowly relaxing, putting her arm warmly through the crook of Patrick’s. ‘Sorry, Eve,’ she grimaced ruefully. ‘I’ll call you in the week, shall I, and the four of us can have dinner together one evening?’
Eve glanced up uncertainly at Paul, knowing by the remoteness of his expression that the suggestion didn’t please him at all. He and Sophy just didn’t get on; the other woman epitomised everything he disliked in a woman: independent even in marriage, totally self-confident in her own capabilities and, worst of all in his eyes, she was a businesswoman.
But Eve didn’t have it in her to be rude to the other couple. ‘That would be lovely,’ she awkwardly accepted.
Sophy couldn’t resist giving Paul a triumphant smile before turning away. ‘I’ll be in touch,’ she promised before moving off, Patrick talking to her quietly as they crossed the room.
‘Damned woman,’ Paul muttered, not caring whether or not the other couple were out of earshot. ‘I can’t stand pushy women who——’
‘Darling, we can’t avoid seeing them forever; Sophy is right about that,’ she cajoled.
His eyes narrowed with dislike. ‘They aren’t the only gallery in town.’
She gave him a reproving look. ‘They’re the best in their field,’ she reminded softly.
He gave a disgruntled snort. ‘We’ll see.’
Eve felt an uneasy feeling in the pit of her stomach. Sophy and Patrick were highly respected in the art world—by the artists themselves, other dealers, and buyers alike—and Paul had to realise the importance, without losing any of his stiff-backed pride, of remaining politely friendly with them, even if he chose not to make them his friends.
‘I have something I need to finish discussing with Dudley Graves before we leave,’ he informed her abruptly, before she could voice any of her misgivings.
Eve frowned her disappointment. ‘Oh, but——’
‘I shouldn’t be too long,’ he added dismissively, before walking away without a second glance.
It was just her luck—bad luck!—that Paul should have to leave her side just at a time when the man Adam was on his own a few feet away. Her attempt to put some distance between them was thwarted as she saw him make a determined move towards her.
‘I thought he was never going to leave—Eve,’ he murmured conspiratorially behind her when she hastily turned away.
Her mouth was set in disapproving lines as she turned back to face him. ‘I thought your complaint was that Paul left me alone too much?’ she derided drily, her brows arched mockingly.
Adam looked more rakish than ever, the gentle early summer breeze outside obviously having ruffled his dark blond hair, but only adding to his attraction in the process. ‘That was my first school of thought,’ he replied, coming to stand in front of her, effectively blocking out the rest of the room with his height and the width of his shoulders, shoulders that had no trouble at all filling out the jacket of the black evening suit he wore. ‘We both know what my second one was,’ he added tauntingly. ‘And I haven’t changed my mind about that one.’
Her impatience increased. ‘You have no idea what you’re talking about,’ she snapped, annoyed that an evening she had thought would at least be pleasantly enjoyable had turned into a complete farce.
‘OK.’ He held up his hands defensively. ‘Whatever you say. I don’t feel like arguing with you on the subject again just now, anyway.’
She looked at him curiously. ‘You aren’t enjoying the party?’
‘The party is just fine.’ He shrugged disinterestedly. ‘As parties go,’ he added in a bored voice. ‘But as far as meeting The Unicorn goes, it seems to have been a waste of my time.’ He sighed heavily.
The Unicorn. Eve had known the last time they spoke to which ‘legend’ he referred, of course, and in this case The Unicorn was an artist of ethereal beauty, who had come to the notice of the general public a little over three years ago, the paintings now collector’s pieces, every one worth thousands rather than hundreds. And what added to the interest in the artist was the anonymity of the signature at the bottom of all the paintings; very few people were actually in on the secret of the real identity of The Unicorn.
Obviously Adam had come to the party this evening intending to be added to their number. And Sophy had encouraged him to believe that could happen.
‘After wandering around myself for a while—which was how I first came to speak to you,’ he said drily, ‘I started to follow Sophy and Patrick around instead,’ he muttered, obviously far from happy. ‘No one they’ve talked to here could possibly be The Unicorn.’
Eve’s brows arched at his complete certainty. ‘No?’
‘No.’ Adam sighed, the laughter that had been so apparent in him earlier in the evening having faded as he became disillusioned as to his success in finding the person he had come here specifically to see.
‘You sound very certain,’ she prompted lightly, one of those privileged few who did know the identity of the artist, and their desire for privacy. She also knew that the artist was here at the party …
‘I am.’ Adam nodded firmly. ‘The Unicorn is someone who sees the world with a beauty and innocence it couldn’t hope to achieve; most of the people here can’t see past the end of their noses!’ he dismissed with unmistakable disgust.
Eve had to smile at his scorn for these people, who were, after all, just trying to enjoy themselves. ‘You could be completely wrong about your artist, you know. Maybe The Unicorn is someone who paints the world the way he has cynically decided other people would like to see it, not the way he really sees it.’ She couldn’t resist teasing him.
He didn’t look amused, more as if she had struck him. ‘It couldn’t be.’ He shook his head disbelievingly. ‘No,’ he said again, as if trying to convince himself, ‘I’ve dreamt of the moment I would meet The Unicorn …’ he added flatly, his frown pained.
‘You might not even like him if you met him,’ she frowned, moved by the intensity of his emotion; The Unicorn’s paintings obviously meant a lot to him. ‘You could be disillusioned,’ she said slowly. ‘Disappointed.’
‘I—I couldn’t be.’ Adam shook his head. ‘Artists paint from the heart, the soul,’ he insisted, the uncertainty still darkening his eyes.
She shrugged. ‘Some of them just paint for the money.’
‘Not The Unicorn.’ He sounded more firm.
Eve could see that, although she had shaken him slightly with the things she had said, his belief in the artist was complete.
‘You’re right,’ she told him softly. Annoying as this man had been to her all evening, she couldn’t bear for the disillusionment in his eyes to continue a moment longer. ‘The Unicorn doesn’t paint for the money.’
His expression instantly brightened, and he moved a step closer to her. ‘You know who he is!’ he pounced with restrained excitement.
Eve instantly regretted her lapse, looking around the room searchingly for Paul, panic welling up inside her; he would be most displeased if he knew she had revealed even this much to a complete stranger. Especially one that had already irritated him so much!
Narrowed brown eyes moved questioningly over the pale distress of her face, Adam’s head turning as he followed the direction of her frantic gaze.
His loud swallow could be clearly heard. ‘Hell, no …’ he groaned, as if in pain.
Eve turned back to him sharply. ‘What is it?’ she gasped nervously.
He had the look of someone who had just been punched in the stomach and was still reeling from the blow. ‘You were right,’ he said weakly. ‘It would have been better if I’d never tried to find out who The Unicorn was.’
She blinked, paling even more. ‘You know who it is?’ She swallowed hard.
He nodded. ‘And I’ve only spoken to the other man once, briefly, but I disliked him before I even met him,’ he said dully.
Eve continued to look at him frowningly for several dazed seconds before his complete meaning became clear to her. And then she realised that he thought Paul was The Unicorn.
When, in actual fact, she was …
CHAPTER TWO
‘DELICIOUSLY wicked of me, wasn’t it, darling?’ Sophy said with undisguised glee, her movements graceful as she strolled around Eve’s studio; the mid-afternoon sunshine, as it shone through the huge window overhead, highlighting the brightness of her hair. ‘I would have given anything to have seen Paul’s face when he rejoined you, and Adam asked him outright if he was The Unicorn!’
Eve hadn’t found it in the least amusing at the time, and she didn’t particularly find it so now; Paul had made his displeasure at being taken for the artist more than plain on several occasions since the incident. However, Adam couldn’t exactly be blamed for making the mistake; it had been generally accepted for some time that the artist had to be a man, and she had admitted to knowing the artist.
She grimaced now. ‘You should have seen Adam’s face when Paul replied, “Good heavens, no!” and walked off.’ Dragging her along at his side!
Sophy made a face. ‘The trouble with Paul is that he’s a damned snob.’
Eve gave a rueful smile, having long ago given up trying to curb Sophy’s acid tongue where Paul was concerned; simply ignoring her where possible. ‘He’s a respectable lawyer who likes to be thought of as such,’ she corrected chidingly.
The other woman shrugged. ‘As I said, he’s a damned snob. The mistake wouldn’t have been made at all if he wasn’t so damned adamant about keeping your identity a secret,’ she added disgustedly, her make-up as perfect in the clear light of day as it had been at the party two evenings ago.
Eve sighed, having heard the argument many times before, from both sides. ‘Sophy——’
‘I wouldn’t mind,’ the other woman continued angrily. ‘But he isn’t at all averse to using the money you earn from your paintings to help further his political ambitions.’
Sophy was the daughter of an old friend of Eve’s grandmother, and it had been through her grandmother’s urgings that Eve had finally shown the other woman some of her paintings four years ago. Sophy, in her usual fashion, had turned out to be abrasively honest about her work. But her criticism of Eve’s work then had been justified, and it was because of that honesty, and the faith Sophy had had that she could be a great artist, that she had been able to have her first small exhibition almost a year later.
Her criticism of Paul, Eve felt less able to accept without demur.
‘We’re going to be married, Sophy,’ she reminded stiffly. ‘It’s only natural that I should want to help further my husband’s career.’
Sophy gave a disgusted snort. ‘It isn’t natural for him to be ashamed of your success to the point where he doesn’t like people to know you’re The Unicorn!’
Warm colour darkened Eve’s cheeks. ‘He isn’t ashamed of my success,’ she defended stiltedly. ‘He’s just trying to protect me.’
‘From what?’ the other woman challenged, her beautiful head thrown back.
Eve shook her head. ‘You wouldn’t understand.’
Auburn brows rose over snapping green eyes. ‘Do you?’ Sophy drawled hardly.
Eve gave a heavy sigh. There had been a continuing argument between Paul and Sophy in recent months, because Paul, as her adviser and lawyer, refused to let Sophy launch the publicity campaign concerning The Unicorn that would, without it actually coming to the point of revealing her true identity, seriously endanger her anonymity.
The Unicorn, because of the subject of her paintings, had been a name she and Sophy had come up with for her during that first frank discussion about her work. And while the name, coupled with her work, had added a certain amount of interest during the early years, Sophy now insisted that it was no longer necessary, claimed it would only add to the success of her work if it should come out that The Unicorn was a woman, and not the man everyone had so readily assumed it to be.
Paul insisted as strongly that her identity remain a secret. And so the argument went on, with Paul coming to the point where he had advised Eve not to take part in the winter exhibition at all if Sophy couldn’t do what they asked.
‘Let’s not talk about that any more today, Sophy,’ she dismissed wearily. ‘I hope you managed to placate that man Adam after the rash promise you had made him,’ she added teasingly.
‘I only told him The Unicorn would be at the party; it was up to him to discover who that was. Besides,’ the other woman gave a wicked grin, ‘he was so relieved to learn that Paul wasn’t The Unicorn that I didn’t need to placate him at all!’
‘Sophy——’ Eve chided wryly.
‘Well, it’s true,’ Sophy insisted with wide-eyed innocence. ‘He almost got down and kissed my feet when I assured him Paul was telling the truth.’
She couldn’t help smiling; Sophy really was outrageous! ‘Who is he, anyway?’ she queried lightly, deciding she might just as well ignore the other woman’s sarcasm at Paul’s expense; Sophy took no notice of her reproof, anyway!
‘A successful entrepreneur, worth millions,’ Sophy confided. ‘And he also owns one of the most prestigious galleries in New York,’ she added excitedly, her veneer of bored cynicism slipping in her genuine enthusiasm for the subject.
It was when Sophy was like this that Eve could see the side of her that Patrick obviously knew and loved so well. A confirmed, single-minded career-woman until Patrick had come into her life, there was obviously something within him that was able to reach into the softer core of her, some quality that only Patrick possessed; this more endearing side of Sophy was certainly never in evidence when Paul was around. If it were, they possibly wouldn’t argue quite so much!
‘And he’s very interested in the The Unicorn paintings the gallery owns,’ Sophy continued triumphantly. ‘Informed me that he has his own private collection back in New York.’
His admiration for Eve’s work had been more than obvious a couple of evenings ago, but nevertheless it shook her slightly to think of him owning any of her work; the paintings were, after all, private pieces of herself she had put on to canvas. He had been right when he’d said her work came from her heart and soul, and each painting was a labour of love.
‘Apparently he always has at least two pieces of your work on display at his gallery,’ Sophy confided with enthusiasm. ‘In fact, he wanted me to approach you about taking your winter exhibition over to New York. With Patrick and me working on a commission and overseeing the project, of course.’
‘Of course,’ Eve said drily.
But she couldn’t help feeling pleasure in the compliment she had just been given. Each painting she did was a labour of love, and when it left her studio to be sold at Sophy’s gallery it went with great reluctance on Eve’s part to let that part of herself go. She had often wondered what sort of person, just who, would claim her latest and most precious ‘child’; each successive painting had always become the most precious.
Much as it made her feel slightly uncomfortable to think of the man Adam owning several parts of her inner self in that way, she also knew instinctively that the paintings would be cherished by him, that despite being a businessman he was able to appreciate the emotional value of her work and not just the financial; and so many of the buyers seemed to be concerned purely with the financial nowadays.
‘And there’s more,’ Sophy added, with a gleam of laughter in her eyes.
Eve instinctively distrusted that gleam. ‘Oh?’ she prompted warily.
‘Mm,’ the other woman said teasingly. ‘He told me the two of you never had got around to introducing yourselves properly the other evening.’
‘It didn’t seem necessary, the fact that we’re called Adam and Eve amused him enough,’ she recalled with a heavy sigh.
Sophy chuckled. ‘That’s because he had the added insight of knowing his full name is Adam Gardener!’ she announced with great enjoyment.
‘It couldn’t be!’ Eve groaned, briefly closing her eyes, shaking her head as if to shut out the awful coincidence of that name.
‘It is,’ the other woman laughed softly. ‘Think how much more amused he would have been if he had known he was talking to Eve Eden!’
It didn’t even bear thinking about!
‘What on earth were our parents thinking of when they named the two of us?’ she gasped.
‘Well, certainly not that you would ever meet each other!’ Sophy was obviously enjoying herself immensely—at their expense.
And why shouldn’t she? Good heavens, Adam Gardener and Eve Eden—it was too ridiculous to even think about!
‘Well, at least that isn’t likely to happen again.’ Thank goodness. What a topic for conversation they would be if the people she knew should ever realise Adam’s full name and its significance to hers. Goodness knew, her name alone had been a source of amusement for years; the two together would be just too much.
‘If we do go into collaboration with him over an exhibition in New York, he will obviously want to meet you,’ Sophy pointed out practically.
Eve shook her head very firmly. ‘You know very well that I never travel.’
Sophy’s mouth tightened. ‘That’s only because you’ve allowed——’
‘Besides,’ she cut in determinedly, wanting to avoid Sophy saying anything further that was detrimental to Paul, knowing the other woman usually lost no opportunity to criticise him, even if it wasn’t always valid.
She simply didn’t want to travel, it certainly had nothing whatsoever to do with Paul’s aversion to her becoming involved with the artistic set that could become such a threat to their privacy.
‘I’m just too busy working with my grandmother on the arrangements for the wedding in September.’ Not that that was really taking up so much of her time; it was only going to be a small affair, with close family and a few friends.
And, if there was still this animosity between Paul and Sophy at that time, she had the feeling he was going to insist Sophy and Patrick not be included in the latter. It was going to be a serious bone of contention between them.
Sophy arched mocking brows. ‘Is September when Paul has decided the wedding is to be?’
She gave a weary sigh. ‘That’s when we have decided it’s to be, yes.’
The other woman gave a sceptical snort. ‘But I have no doubt the date fits in very nicely with Paul’s schedule.’
‘Well, of course it does.’ Eve was becoming more than a little irritable now. ‘As the wedding can really be at any time, there would be no point in arranging it for when it’s completely inconvenient for everyone involved.’
‘September suits you too, does it?’ Sophy derided drily.
‘Sophy, I know you and Paul don’t get on, but——’
‘That has to be the understatement of the year!’ the other woman scorned.
‘—but he is the man I love and intend to marry,’ Eve finished firmly, glaring fiercely.
Sophy was unaffected by that glare. ‘More’s the pity.’ She looked totally disheartened by the prospect, even lacking her usual grace of movement as she dropped down into an armchair. ‘OK, I’m sorry.’ She waved an elegantly long hand dismissively. ‘But the man can be so bloody-minded.’
Eve smiled without rancour at this familiar accusation. ‘You just don’t like him because he doesn’t readily agree with what you want.’
Sophy drew in a ragged breath, raising sleepy lids. ‘Is that what you think?’ she frowned.
‘I know it,’ she chided indulgently.
Her friend just looked at her for several seconds. ‘If you say so,’ she finally sighed. ‘So what are the chances of the two of you coming to dinner this week?’ she drawled in a bored voice.
Eve smiled. ‘You didn’t have to come all the way over here to ask me that; a telephone call would have sufficed,’ she said tauntingly.
Sophy had too much self-confidence and outright nerve to look even the slightest bit disconcerted by the sarcasm. ‘I wasn’t about to waste this opportunity to talk to you about the exhibition we want to set up for you this winter——’
‘I didn’t think you needed an excuse to do that,’ she teased, moving to look out of the huge studio window, loving, as always, the utter peace and tranquillity that met her gaze. The work she had been able to have done on this old family house was the biggest reward she had received from her painting, and from the legacy she had had from her parents on her twenty-first birthday that had allowed her to concentrate fully on that career that had brought so many rewards.
Her gaze softened with love as her grandmother glanced up from where she was working on her rose garden to see her standing at the third-floor window, and the old lady straightened to wave happily in the sunshine.
Her grandmother had been the most important person in Eve’s life after the death of her parents twenty years ago, when Eve was only six and Evelyn Ashton was already in her early fifties.
The elderly woman hadn’t hesitated about taking over the care of both of her young granddaughters after the road accident that had robbed her of her only two children, her son and his wife, and her daughter and her husband, the four returning from a weekend in the country when their car had lost control and gone over the side of a bridge. Four-year-old Marina and six-year-old Eve had been left orphaned after the crash.
Ashton House had become a haven for Eve and her young cousin, and Evelyn Ashton a source of never-ending love. It hadn’t been until Eve was in her teens that she had realised her only two children’s lives wasn’t the only price her grandmother had paid all those years ago; because of some unsound investments on the family’s behalf by her only son, investments he hadn’t had time to correct before his untimely death, everything but the family home had been sacrificed, too. And the house, far from being the palatial place that Eve had always imagined it to be, was run-down and very much in need of repair.
The money her parents had left in trust for her until she was twenty-one hadn’t been enough to carry out all the work that needed doing, and her grandmother had insisted that she use part of it to pursue the career that might otherwise have been denied her. The first thing she had done when she’d begun to earn money from her paintings was to finish restoring the house to its former glory; Ashton House was now the home her grandmother could be proud of.
‘She’s a wonderful old lady,’ Sophy murmured appreciatively at Eve’s side, having noiselessly crossed the room to join her at the window.
Eve glanced round at her. ‘I wouldn’t let her hear the old part of that statement,’ she said drily.
The other woman grimaced. ‘Now there’s someone I do respect.’
Eve continued to gaze fondly at her grandmother. ‘She’s particularly happy at the moment because Marina is coming home for a few days this weekend.’
‘Your lovely cousin has found time from her busy social schedule to visit the woman who brought her up?’ Sophy said scoffingly. ‘How nice!’
Eve sighed, shaking her head. ‘There aren’t many people you do like, are there?’
The other woman shrugged. ‘I like you, I like your grandmother, I even like Adam Gardener—and not just because of the good he could do your career and my gallery,’ she drawled, without apology for her earlier remarks about Eve’s cousin. ‘I have little time for fools.’ She gave a graceful shrug.