Beauty and The Best (Once-Upon-A-Time Romance) by Judi Fennell Page A
Authors: Judi Fennell
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oils, but since she wasn’t a connoisseur, she couldn’t be certain.
But Todd was. He studied the faces in the pictures, both pages, then slowly turned to the next page. No one said anything, but Mr. Griff had a secret little Mona Lisa grin going.
“ Would you like to keep it for a bit? Since you’re finding it so interesting, I mean.” Mr. Griff somehow managed to slide the... encyclopedia, for lack of a better word, onto the table without disturbing any of the place settings.
Todd flipped another page, his eyes roaming the picture in a really intensive study. Was he looking for the talent, the mastery, or whatever it was an artist saw when he looked at a painting, like she did when someone served an amazing menu item, like, for instance, broiled scallops?
“ I’d love to take a look at it, if you wouldn’t mind.” Todd finally tore his eyes away from the painted page and arched a brow at Mr. Griff.
Mr. Griff made no effort to hide that enigmatic smile and it made her nervous. What if Todd began thinking along the lines he’d been thinking earlier?
And what was with Mr. Griff showing up here with a book Todd would be interested in? It was eerie how the shopkeeper seemed to read minds.
“ You certainly can. Take as much time as you need. Jolie knows where to find me.” He tipped his hat, turned with military precision, and scuttled (no surprise there) away.
Todd followed Mr. Griff’s departure with narrowed eyes, as if he was trying to figure out why a complete stranger would lend him a book. She just hoped he didn’t come to the conclusion she thought he might.
Luckily, the maitre d’ chose that moment to interrupt the visual tracking and Todd returned his focus to the table, handling the dinner order with aplomb.
“ So, who’s Hans Holbein the Younger?” she asked after the d’ left.
Todd turned another page. “A portraitist. A courtier to King Henry the Eighth in the sixteenth century who painted many of the royal court.”
“ Oh. That’s impressive.” She took a sip from her glass, gazing out over the inky water where a boat whispered by, its deck lights outlining its shape. The Midnight Maiden rocked with the wake.
“ It is. Especially when you realize this guy lived to his mid-forties. He started out doing religious paintings, then came to the attention of Sir Thomas More. He painted More’s portrait and King Henry became a fan. After that, he was the official artist for Henry’s wives’ portraits, as well as for the search of subsequent wives. Matter of fact—” Todd flipped another page and pointed to a woman in a big black coat with a funny black cap on her head. “He ran into trouble after Jane Seymour’s death. Henry sent him to paint Christina of Denmark, who then passed on his offer of marriage.”
“ Smart girl.” Henry wasn’t the most forgiving of husbands. Nor the most faithful. Given his track record, Jolie would refuse him, too.
“ True.” Todd turned the page. “Henry then sent Holbein to paint Anne of Cleves.” He cocked the book toward Jolie. “Her.”
Anne had a tiny waist and was dressed in a copper-colored outfit, complete with jewels and chains all over it. Those people back then certainly knew the meaning of the word ostentatious. She had a funky little cap on her head with dangly things on the sides, kind of like Princess Leia, though Anne dear might have been bald under it, ’cause not a wisp of hair escaped.
“ Henry was quite taken with the portrait and offered for her. She, poor thing, accepted.”
“ So, what was the problem?”
Todd closed the book with a wry grin. “Holbein was put between a rock and a hard place. Henry had already struck out with Christina, and Anne was not quite the, shall we say, most inspiring of subjects—”
“ A bow-wow?”
“ That’s one way of putting it. But since Holbein was so famous for his portraits, he must have either wanted to portray her well, or Henry’s advisers wanted the king married no
But Todd was. He studied the faces in the pictures, both pages, then slowly turned to the next page. No one said anything, but Mr. Griff had a secret little Mona Lisa grin going.
“ Would you like to keep it for a bit? Since you’re finding it so interesting, I mean.” Mr. Griff somehow managed to slide the... encyclopedia, for lack of a better word, onto the table without disturbing any of the place settings.
Todd flipped another page, his eyes roaming the picture in a really intensive study. Was he looking for the talent, the mastery, or whatever it was an artist saw when he looked at a painting, like she did when someone served an amazing menu item, like, for instance, broiled scallops?
“ I’d love to take a look at it, if you wouldn’t mind.” Todd finally tore his eyes away from the painted page and arched a brow at Mr. Griff.
Mr. Griff made no effort to hide that enigmatic smile and it made her nervous. What if Todd began thinking along the lines he’d been thinking earlier?
And what was with Mr. Griff showing up here with a book Todd would be interested in? It was eerie how the shopkeeper seemed to read minds.
“ You certainly can. Take as much time as you need. Jolie knows where to find me.” He tipped his hat, turned with military precision, and scuttled (no surprise there) away.
Todd followed Mr. Griff’s departure with narrowed eyes, as if he was trying to figure out why a complete stranger would lend him a book. She just hoped he didn’t come to the conclusion she thought he might.
Luckily, the maitre d’ chose that moment to interrupt the visual tracking and Todd returned his focus to the table, handling the dinner order with aplomb.
“ So, who’s Hans Holbein the Younger?” she asked after the d’ left.
Todd turned another page. “A portraitist. A courtier to King Henry the Eighth in the sixteenth century who painted many of the royal court.”
“ Oh. That’s impressive.” She took a sip from her glass, gazing out over the inky water where a boat whispered by, its deck lights outlining its shape. The Midnight Maiden rocked with the wake.
“ It is. Especially when you realize this guy lived to his mid-forties. He started out doing religious paintings, then came to the attention of Sir Thomas More. He painted More’s portrait and King Henry became a fan. After that, he was the official artist for Henry’s wives’ portraits, as well as for the search of subsequent wives. Matter of fact—” Todd flipped another page and pointed to a woman in a big black coat with a funny black cap on her head. “He ran into trouble after Jane Seymour’s death. Henry sent him to paint Christina of Denmark, who then passed on his offer of marriage.”
“ Smart girl.” Henry wasn’t the most forgiving of husbands. Nor the most faithful. Given his track record, Jolie would refuse him, too.
“ True.” Todd turned the page. “Henry then sent Holbein to paint Anne of Cleves.” He cocked the book toward Jolie. “Her.”
Anne had a tiny waist and was dressed in a copper-colored outfit, complete with jewels and chains all over it. Those people back then certainly knew the meaning of the word ostentatious. She had a funky little cap on her head with dangly things on the sides, kind of like Princess Leia, though Anne dear might have been bald under it, ’cause not a wisp of hair escaped.
“ Henry was quite taken with the portrait and offered for her. She, poor thing, accepted.”
“ So, what was the problem?”
Todd closed the book with a wry grin. “Holbein was put between a rock and a hard place. Henry had already struck out with Christina, and Anne was not quite the, shall we say, most inspiring of subjects—”
“ A bow-wow?”
“ That’s one way of putting it. But since Holbein was so famous for his portraits, he must have either wanted to portray her well, or Henry’s advisers wanted the king married no
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