Chapter 16

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Lucy disembarked from her plane at Heathrow airport in London and spotted a man in a black jacket holding up a sign reading "MacKinley." He helped Lucy collect her luggage and escorted her to a waiting car. Frederick had offered to meet Lucy at the airport himself, but when pressed, admitted that sending a driver was more typical of his everyday life.

The driver held the door for her and Lucy slid into the backseat of the car, her face lighting up when she saw Frederick in the back seat. He gave her a teasing half-smile.

"Hello, darling. How was your flight?" He pulled her in for a quick hug.

"Frederick! It was great, thanks. First Class is awesome. I never sleep on planes, but this time, I slept for hours."

"I'm glad. We have a busy day ahead of us," he said, leaning towards her again, his grin heating up.

"Stop that," she warned.

He sat back.

"Where are we going?"

"If you're ready to go out, I wanted to take you to an art gallery."

"Really? Isn't that a bit...public?"

"You'll see," he said.

Lucy need not have worried. Frederick took her to a small gallery in an unremarkable looking building with only one small sign marking it as a business. Once she got inside, she realized that this gallery catered to the creme de la creme; the rooms were large and airy, the scattered furnishings were high quality, and despite the fact that it was barely noon, local time, they were offered chilled glasses of champagne as they walked in the door. There were also no prices on any of the artwork.

A few well-dressed patrons strolled through the gallery, but they didn't give Frederick a second glance. Lucy, with her sleep rumpled hair and department store jeans, barely merited a first glance. Though the gallery employees remained within sight should they be needed, they were unobtrusive in their attentions.

Lucy and Frederick walked at a leisurely pace past walls of paintings and the odd sculpture, mostly modern in style. Frederick chuckled when he saw the name on the card beside one of the paintings. He told Lucy the story of an acquaintance who had thrown an indignant fit after an imagined slight by a gallery owner and publicly insisted that he was done with painting for good. "I guess he managed to pick up a brush again after all."

Frederick deliberated about purchasing a painting of blended concentric circles, which Lucy thought looked like the underside of a frying pan ("but prettied up," she'd amended). Instead, he took a postcard of the painting from the attendant and promised to consider it.

Lucy requested that they go someplace she could freshen up before their next engagements: a theater show, followed by a late dinner. Frederick took Lucy to the flat he kept in town. The car stopped in front of a tall building with a simple glass and concrete exterior and an ornate front door. A doorman greeted Frederick and held the door for them.

Frederick's flat was near the top of the building, Lucy saw as she walked in his door. Directly ahead of her was an entire wall of windows looking out over the sprawling city. The living room and kitchen were done in comfortable, yet modern blues and grays that made Lucy think of the hotel room Frederick had redecorated for her.

Frederick showed Lucy to the guest bedroom where she would be staying for the weekend, leaving her garment bag and small suitcase on the bed. Once he was out of the room, Lucy opened her garment bag and pulled out Violet's navy blue dress, and found the box containing her new diamond pendant. She undid one button on her shirt, then ran to the door and locked it. Whether it was to keep Frederick out, or to keep herself in, she wasn't sure.

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