A Connoisseur of Beauty by Daphne Coleridge

asure of his company – which, of course, she would. Looking at her watch she realised that she had very little time to get herself ready and she hastily pushed the painting of Hunter into the middle of about six other canvases which were against one wall. After a tussle with public transport she arrived at her destination quite hot and flustered only to see Hunter standing beside a fountain looking a picture of composure. The smile he greeted her with was one of genuine pleasure.
    “I brought you one of my picnics – remember when you were doing that painting for me at Wolfston Hall? I thought we could find a bench to sit on.” They took the short walk to where the park opened up, bright with flowerbeds and sunbathers and striped deckchairs under the trees. Most benches were occupied, but they found a pleasant space of sun-dappled shade and sat down together. Hunter had brought white wine and glasses and a selection of little sandwiches, some strawberries and some cakes which he claimed to have made himself, with a wink at Amy which indicated otherwise.
    “I went to Wolfston to see your portrait of my grandmother,” Hunter began as they shared the food onto two plates. “It's quite brilliant, of course. It's all about age and beauty – and my grandmother loves it. It's in the gallery upstairs. I'm afraid I may have moved one of your ancestors to make room for mine. My grandmother is back in the States, by the way, and sends you her best wishes.”
    “It was a pleasure to paint her,” said Amy, “with the added bonus that I gained an insight into your boyhood days with Cole.”
    “Ah, yes, Cole...” said Hunter, his grey eyes clouding a little. “I don't know what my grandmother told you or what you've read in the papers, but I hope you know now that I wasn't leading you on when otherwise committed to Loretta. She was a girlfriend, but I think I knew that she was always more genuinely attracted to Cole. At the same time I think she was shrewd enough to know that I would – how shall we put this – be a better provider for a child, my brother being somewhat unreliable. That's one of the things I've been sorting out, and I must admit that it has all taken longer than I expected. In fact I've done a lot of sorting out of things before I felt free to come back and see you. I don't want to go into details on such a sunny afternoon, but suffice is to say we all came to an agreement at Lewis Eames which means that my cousins, Ryan and George, will be taking over. Somewhere along the way Cole was given a considerable sum of money and won't have any further involvement with the company. Rather to my father's disappointment I have also decided not to have any further involvement with the company. And I've set up a trust fund for my niece or nephew separately, because with Cole you just never know.” He settled back into a comfortable position propped on one elbow, apparently glad to get this preamble out of the way.
    “Are you really happy to give up your interests in your family’s business?” asked Amy, to whom this decision came as a surprise.
    “Yes,” said Hunter, his grey eyes looking at her steadily as he replied. “It's pretty hard when people have expectations of you and you don't want to let them down, but my father does understand that I must find my own path in life. And my cousins are really good, steady hands who love the business. And I recognise that I have to be a bit bolder if I really want to live the sort of life which I've dreamed about – and I don't mean money and success.”
    Amy suddenly remembered what Marilyn had said about Hunter not letting himself be what he wanted because he set store by what other people thought. “I think you have been brave, then,” she said. “Choosing not to do something can be as hard as choosing to do something. But what about your galleries – you won't be giving them up will you?”
    “No, but I think I will run them differently. When I started out I