"Kristine Kathryn Rusch - The Gallery of His Dreams" - читать интересную книгу автора (Rusch Kristine Kathryn)

to approach.

So he watched her glide across the floor with young man after young man, her hooped skirts swaying,
her brown hair in ringlets, her eyes sparkling, and her cheeks flushed. Handy had told him that at the age
of four, she had been presented to President Jackson. She had been so beautiful, Handy said, that
Jackson had wanted to adopt her. Brady was glad he hadn't seen her as a child, glad he had seen the
mature beauty. When he finished taking the portraits of her father, he would ask if he could take one of
her. The wet-plate process would let him make copies, and he would keep one in his own rooms, just so
that he could show his friends how very lovely she was.

The waltz ended, and Juliet curtsied to her partner, then left the floor. Her dance card swung from her
wrist and the diamonds around her neck caught the candlelight. Too late, Brady realized she was coming
to see him.

тАЬI have one spot left on my dance card,тАЭ she said as she stopped in front of him. She smelled faintly of
lilacs, and he knew he would have to keep a sprig near her portrait every spring. тАЬAnd I was waiting for
you to fill it.

Brady blushed. тАЬI barely know you, Miss Juliet.тАЭ

She batted his wrist lightly with her fan. тАЬJulia,тАЭ she said. тАЬAnd I know you better than half the boys here.
You have spent three days in my daddy's house, Mr. Brady, and your conversation at dinner has been
most entertaining. I was afraid that I bored you.тАЭ

тАЬNo, no,тАЭ he said. The words sounded so formal. How could he joke with his female clients and let this
slip of a girl intimidate him? тАЬI would love to take that slot on your dance card, Miss Juliet.тАЭ

тАЬJulia,тАЭ she said again. тАЬI hate being named after a stupid little minx who died for nothing. I think when a
woman loves, it is her duty to love intelligently, don't you?тАЭ

тАЬYes,тАЭ Brady said, although he had no idea what she was talking about. тАЬAnd I'm Mathew.тАЭ

тАЬWonderful, Mathew.тАЭ Her smile added a single dimple to her left cheek. She extended her card to him
and he penciled his name in for the next dance, filling the bottom of the first page. The music
startedтАФanother waltzтАФand she took his hand. He followed her onto the floor, placed one hand on her
cinched waist, and held the other lightly in his own. They circled around the floor, the tip of her skirt
brushing against his pants leg. She didn't smile at him. Instead her eyes were very serious and her lips
were pursed and full.

тАЬYou don't do this very often, do you, Mathew?тАЭ

тАЬNo,тАЭ he said. In fact, he felt as if he were part of a dreamтАФthe musicians, the beautifully garbed
women, the house servants blending into the wallpaper. Everything at the Handy plantation had an air of
almost too much sensual pleasure. тАЬI work, probably too much.тАЭ

тАЬI have seen what you do, Mathew, and I think it is a wondrous magic.тАЭ A slight flush crept into her
cheeks, whether from the exertion or her words, Brady couldn't tell. She lowered her voice. тАЬI dreamed
about you last night. I dreamed I was in a beautiful large gallery with light clearer than sunlight, and
hundreds of people milled about, looking at your portraits on the wall. They all talked about you, how
marvelous your work was, and how it influenced them. You're a great man, Mathew, and I am flattered