An Englishman's property inheritance in Midwest America leads to romance between a womanizing son of a recently deceased Duke and a beautiful but feisty attorney. Both harbor an unfulfilled desire to find a mate who exceeded their expectations. In this chapter Kitty's character-forming youth is detailed and Hayden begins thinking about her beyond her vulva.
Chapter 4
Annoyed at the arrogance of Hayden, Kitty pounded seven miles of sidewalk that evening trying to get her head around him. Just because she'd allowed him to shaft her a few times he had taken upon himself to paint her nude, without her consent, and had now forward the plans of his property to suggests alterations and presumably even come up with change of use of the residence. Why, because he'd assumed she was going to marry him or at least live with him.
Kitty kicked a street pole and hobbled off to nearby low wall to sit to rub her toes. That fool had made her hurt herself.
Paintings can take weeks and even months and months to complete, she fumed. Hayden the humper and painter threw her likeness on to canvas in two days and two and a half nights, less breaks. She knew it looked good but what does he take her for – the artist's dummy? He didn't have a real job and wandered around and was great at chatting but after fifteen minutes ran out of steam. Unless talking about himself he hadn't much to say and either yawned, or grabbed a breast or would say let's go somewhere and she'd say where and he'd say he didn't know.
Marry him? Kitty winced, as she hobbled off on her sore foot. No way! He'd probably been bottle fed until he was eight and predictably wanted a woman as a bedmate under the guise of settling down to be his nanny to take him through the remainder of his life. He was talking crap when saying that hastily composed portrait of her would fetch ten grand. Five, perhaps but dealers who looked also for technical excellent would grin and say, "Ten grand? No way." However, being so dismissive made Kitty feel a little uneasy. Had she not known the artist and not recognized his model, just looking at the work critically, having studied art, what would have been her judgment?
"Oh God, I know what I would have said: Ten grand is the steal of the century."
"I can't stand this, I need a second informed opinion. Perhaps he's better than even he or his present agent thinks?"
Next morning on the way to work Kitty went to the small rooftop apartment she leased and used as her studio. She wrapped two of her better landscape paintings and took them to work. Mid-morning she asked the gallery manager Peggy Blewitt if she could call around for Peggy, as a friend, to appraise three artworks for her.
Peggy looked at the three works and said, "The nude is you."
"Yes."
"Look, do you mind if I call in a second opinion? Our technical director is away but our framer Hugo although elderly is a former art school tutor and is a magazine's art critic."
Ten minutes later Peggy returned to the table and finished her coffee. "I saw your signature on the landscapes and tried to remain neutral. Hugo and I say their price range in an informed market is $500 to $700. You technique is good but needs developing and you have a fine eye. As to 'Miss Nude' our advice to take it to New York. All we can say is perhaps $30,000 and probably more if a collector of nudes looking for something different competes for it at auction."
"Ohmigod."
"Listen Kitty, resist the urge to sell it. Hugo says he knows of the artist and has read critiques of his work in international art magazines. Hugo says if Hayden Carrington used this painting as his model and took his time over a month or more, the finished work could possible fetch in excess of $100,000 grand at international auction."
"Ohmigod, then he does have a real career,"
"Excuse me?"
"Oh, just my thinking running away on me."
Peggy placed her hand on Kitty's arm. "Listen darling, forgive me for being so personal but has Lord Hayden been shafting you?"
Kitty nodded.
"Good girl. So you are in the process of reeling him in. Rumor about town is he owns the mansion lock, stock and barrel. What can you tell me?"
"Nothing."
"Oh, I forget. You're an attorney. Well, you said you'd get me a new gallery darling so allow me to tell you this. Mick my husband as you know is a photographer. Well the last time he was up flying for a client I had him shots of Carrington Mansion. I then showed them to my brother-in-law who said he knows the structure as he passed most days and watched it being built.
"My brother-in-law agrees the front rooms would be ideal for a gallery, as they have vaulted ceilings. The air-con system would require extensive upgrading and humidity control added and most of the windows covered in. There's space on the western boundary for a large extension for storage and workrooms. Firewalls would be constructed leaving the rear half of the house including the kitchen and some bedrooms intact. An extension could then be built over the swimming pool for new living rooms. The present exposed sides of the pool could be glassed in, making it a year-round pool instead of its present three to four months of usage. In the area left free beyond the pool. I suggest an art studio go there."
"For whom?"
"The owner of that part of the land after selling off the front part in a legal subdivision to the council for its civic art gallery. As Hugo says, your Mr Carrington will not become a professional artist of real caliber until he settles down and gives up producing quick-fire paintings of native beauties in exotic locations or offering to paint the portraits of lovely wealthy women during his numerous vacations in return for money and you know what."
Kitty groaned. "He'd die young if his nomad life goes and he's expected to limit himself to just one woman."
"Kitty, do you know that for fact? I ask you, don't you think the guy's bored out of his mind fucking one woman, painting her, and on and on it goes? He probably doesn't even know what a relationship in depth is, or hasn't joined a club since his university days, read the paper in the morning with his feet up instead of no paper and his dick up..."
The women burst into laughter. Kitty said, "You're a bit older than me Peggy with heaps more experience. It's worth listening to what you say."
"Well listen to this darling. With his father gone Hayden is probably feeling a little vulnerable these days and has looked at his life in retrospect and found that didn't take long because little of worth was there to review. And he's probably thinking about children – his kids. Who knows, you may be in the possible top ten or perhaps even the top three he'd like to have for their mama. He could really go for the conversion of his mansion – I know it's his because that explains his recent visit. Someone would need to sell him the idea of building over the pool but the idea of a studio just beyond it may provide the push needed. If he arrives soon with the decision to stay here permanently he's perfectly placed for you to grab him."
Kitty's eyes flickered and she pouted beautifully. "But I've been thinking he's not worthy of me, getting it off with any female in sight who meets minimum specifications."
"Are you mad? Probably his only fault is failing to work out how long to take when his father ordered him out of the castle, manor house or housing estate, wherever the family resides in England and go forth and sow his wild oats. I ask you, is he any good at it?"
"I-I, well to tell you the truth...I-I...oh yeah, I'm an attorney!"
That evening in bed, Kitty thought about one thing Peggy had said: "Are you mad?" Her mother, attempting to raise Kitty as a lady, had often folded in failure, calling her rebellious young daughter a mad, hotheaded little bitch. Kitty would kiss her mom back from tears and attempt to console her and say, "Don't worry mom, even the mad have fun." Then she would saddle the sorrel she had then and canter off, feeling aroused, and ride for an hour or two shooting varmints.
She'd arrive back home feeling she'd achieved something and it would proceed like clockwork: Her father, eyes sad, would have his belt in his hand and would say he was sorry to do it but her mother insisted that he try to belt out the resistance in the rebellious brat. During that night, when her mother was asleep, her father would come to Kitty's bedroom and rub liniment on the welts on the back of her legs and without being asked would pull over a chair and in a low voice would tell Kitty some of the hundred or so stories about the atrocities and the stupidly hurtful things the two feuding families – the Carringtons and the Carlisle-Bowdens – had done to one another simply because after time it became what those families did.
"You are a hot-headed little bitch," he'd say, kissing her when leaving. "You've got to promise you'll never do harm to a Carrington. God the last three generations of our family tried so determinedly to stop this mindless vendetta and look where that got them."
"I promise daddy. I'll also promise if I ever find the one half-decent Carrington in this world I'll try to make a good man out of him."
One night when she'd said repeated that bravado her father asked how?
Although just sixteen, Kitty said, "With my mind and body daddy, that's how."
The room had been in near darkness and her father moved forward and ruffled her hair. She couldn't see it but could feel his smile as he said half-choked, "Mad? That's brilliant Kitty but for goodness sakes don't mention that to your mom."
Kitty thought about her graduation from college. Mom had called her parents in from California and had told Kitty they were coming.
"Why?"
"Because although I claim you are mad and rebellious they cannot believe you are graduating with distinction, that's why. Their other grandchildren are without bad traits and they think it's time for upping Kitty to toe the line."
"That's crazy talk mom and you know it. What the fuck can they do," Kitty remembered sneering.
Her devout church-going mother turned purple and went to smack Kitty across the face but Kitty caught her hand and snarled, "If you ever attempt to hit me again mother I'll break your arm." Kitty then went out and saddled Goldie the stallion she had then and shot varmints dead, often while Goldie was in gentle canter, until running out of ammunition. She returned home expecting her father would be waiting for her, his belt in his hand and was not disappointed.
"This is going to hurt me more than it will hurt you Kitty," her father began in his customary patter.
"Dad, wallop me with that strap and I'll never speak to you again."
"Chandler, do it!" her mother commanded.
Kitty eyed her father defiantly. He dropped the belt and holding up his trousers walked away mumbling, "My daughter means too much to me to lose her."
On the morning of graduation Kitty's grandmother wept, "Oh mad Kitty, use this money wisely to build yourself a professional career as no one will ever marry you because your mother says the guys capable of standing up to you end up being afraid of you, finding you too competitive."
How much money? Kitty opened the envelope and found a check for $20,000, a considerable amount of money in those days.
