Read Online And Only to Deceive by TASHA ALEXANDER - Free Book Online Page A

to the black myself. Of course, a mere sketch cannot do such a piece justice, which is why I prefer to reproduce it entirely.”
    “It also brings a much higher price that way,” Monsieur Pontiero added. “Aldwin does a great deal of work for you English aristocrats who are willing to pay exorbitant prices for obvious fakes.”
    “My work is never obvious,” Mr. Attewater replied. “It can be found in some of the world’s best museums.”
    “Perhaps in your imagination, Aldwin. But look at my pupil’s work. It is good, no?” Mr. Attewater looked over my shoulder at my uninspired rendition of poor Mr. Guardi’s landscape and shrugged.
    “Decent form, little passion. Move her to another gallery, Pontiero. If it’s antiquities she likes, she should draw them. She is paying you, after all.”
    “Money, money, that’s all you think about,” Monsieur Pontiero jibed good-naturedly. “It is the art that matters, and she should start here.”
    “Your husband was the Viscount Ashton?” Mr. Attewater inquired.
    “Yes, he died in Africa more than a year ago.”
    “I remember hearing that. Please accept my most sincere condolences. I’m certain that he is greatly missed in the art world. He was an excellent patron.”
    “Thank you, Mr. Attewater,” I answered, and proceeded to change the subject. “Do you have a studio in Paris?”
    “No, I prefer to work in London.”
    “The soot in the air helps to give his sculpture an ancient look,” Monsieur Pontiero joked as his sharp eyes evaluated my sketch. “That’s enough for today, Lady Ashton. I can see that you are too distracted to work.” He sighed. “I imagine that Aldwin would be happy to lead usthrough the Ancient Sculpture collection. Perhaps he will allow you to choose the next work he plans to imitate.”
    “Maybe I will commission the work myself,” I said, smiling. Monsieur Pontiero frowned.
    “Your money would be better spent on Renoir or Sisley. At least their works are original.”
    “True,” I began, “but if Mr. Attewater can produce an object of exquisite beauty, I’m not sure that his source of inspiration is of much consequence.”
    “Copying requires nothing more than mechanical skill,” Monsieur Pontiero said. “The genius of the artist can never be duplicated. A work done by someone else’s hand will always lack the spark of brilliance.”
    Mr. Attewater grinned. “I don’t think you could tell the difference, my friend.” They bickered back and forth well into the Greek collection, stopping only when I gasped at the sight of a particularly lovely sculpture of the goddess Artemis.
    “You like this?” Mr. Attewater asked. I nodded. “What do you think, Pontiero?”
    “It is exquisite.”
    “Does it contain a spark of brilliance?”
    “Yes, it does,” Monsieur Pontiero answered quickly. “Don’t try to claim that it’s one of yours. No one would believe you.”
    “I could reproduce it well, but it is not mine. Nonetheless, it is a copy, done by a Roman in the style of one done in bronze during the fourth century B.C. by a Greek called Leochares. Would you consider it a fake?”
    “Hardly. It’s an ancient piece.”
    “Ancient yes, but a copy of a sculpture more ancient.” Mr. Attewater turned to me. “The Romans loved to copy Greek sculpture. Have you been to the National Archaeological Museum in Athens? There you will find real Greek statues.”
    “I shall have to go,” I said, still looking at the beautifully carved Artemis.
    “You’d prefer Rome,” Monsieur Pontiero insisted.
    Realizing he was about to embark on another of his monologues on the virtues of things Italian, I quickly interrupted. “Mr. Attewater, do you think our descendants will look at your copies in museums thousands of years from now, appreciating them as art in their own right, the way we do this statue?”
    “Don’t encourage him,” Monsieur Pontiero scoffed. As we turned the corner, I was pleasantly surprised to see Colin