Stepping into the dining room I saw the guests gathered around the hearth to keep warm. All heads turned. It seemed they had been waiting for me. I was pleased to finally meet the competitors who would be bidding on Lord Ardmillan’s private collection. Along with Euan, we were also joined by the family solicitor Mr. Buchanan who would oversee the sale of goods. I noted he gave me a peculiar sour look that I did not understand, but then Mr. Cecil stepped to my side to greet me. We shared formalities and then I saw another person I recognized. It was Ms. Emeline McGovern, a portly woman well past marrying age who, with her elderly father Angus, ran McGovern’s Auctioneers in Edinburgh. We had attended many society dinners together in Edinburgh and her father’s auction house was once my favorite place to be while not studying. It was there when I was twenty-one that I purchased the first item for my true collection. I was glad that Ms. McGovern had not worked with her father then as it would have led to some great embarrassment on my part.
I nodded genially to Emeline and she smiled back. “A pleasure to see you again Ms. McGovern. How is your father? I expected to see him here today. It would have been nice to converse again.”
“Aye. Unfortunately, my father’s unwell and so I’ve been sent in his stead to secure anything I believe is suitable for McGovern’s.” She informed. It was indeed unusual for a woman to be trusted with such a task alone, especially a spinster. A man stepped to Miss McGovern’s side. “I’d like to introduce my escort, Mr. Mitchell.”
Ah, that explained it. I nodded genially to Mr. Mitchell. The look that passed between Ms. McGovern and Mr. Mitchell on introduction told me that he was more than her escort, or wanted to be! I smiled and asked myself why should they not enjoy one another’s company? If I had sought a wife in my younger days Emeline would have been an agreeable companion.
“I do hope your father makes a speedy recovery, please give him my regards”, I said. Then, the genial host Lord Euan Ardmillan laughed loudly and like a pup called by its master, I turned to look at him.
Euan was dressed in a claret suit that made him look frustratingly distinguished and dashing. He met my eyes and then smiled with satisfaction. Euan then came to my side and introduced me to the international art collectors, Mr. McTaggart from Glasgow, Mr. Wren from Nottingham, Mr. Vassiliev from St Petersburg, Mr. Romano and his business partner, Mr. Rossi from Italy, and a Mr. François from Belgium. I did not offer my hand to be shaken as is correct etiquette but bowed in greeting as I was introduced to a Mr. and Mrs. Montgomery, Mr. Cecil, Mr. Philippe, and lastly, the curious Mr. Engles. At my counting that made a total of fourteen guests including me, and among them, twelve collectors of fine art and antiquities.
It was the first time I had seen Mr. Engles' face, for he no longer wore his large fur hat with spaniel ears. The man was surprisingly comely. He had a square face with an almost feline high brow. In the firelight, his hair appeared reddish-blond and was close-cropped. He wore a waxed mustache and a beard around his chin. His circular brass rimmed spectacles hid his specific eye color from me. He was a curious creature indeed and there was something familiar about him I could not put my finger on. Mr. Engles nodded to me in recognition and then took a step closer.
“I trust you have varmed up after zhe ghastly journey today”, He said his Germanic accent sounding stern to my ear. “I vas chilled to my very bones!”
“Yes, indeed. I warmed up and gained some much-needed rest this afternoon.” I lied. I had in-fact spent most of the afternoon in emotional turmoil, pacing my room, over-thinking and praying for forgiveness for my impure thoughts of Euan. I did not want to feel and yet Euan’s teasing smiles ate at me like a worm devouring an apple core.
“I understand you have an auction house in London, ja? I am also in zuh business of antiquities.”
“Where do you do your business?”
“I am, how you say, international. I have private clients all over Europe and purchase to suit zehr vishes.”
“That’s very interesting. Is there anything particular from Lord Ardmillan’s collection you favor?”
“Ah, Mr. Hannan, we both know how zis gambit works. I couldn’t possibly say.” There was a wicked glint in the man’s eyes that made me shiver. Our conversation was cut short by Rennie announcing that we were to be seated.
The extensive mahogany table in the center of the room had been decorated with bowls of seasonal fruits and set with candelabras to give intimate lighting. The ladies were seated first and then the gentlemen. I was seated beside Mr. Mitchell and opposite Mr. Engels. It seemed I would be forced to admire his attractive visage for the whole evening! Euan stood at the head of the table and tapped his glass, the ringing sound garnering our attention.
“I am delighted you could all join me at Dunecht Hall for the sale of my late father’s personal collection. He was
