Page 29 of Sweet Siren
Chapter 7
May1879
No. 10 South MoultonStreet
London
Liv re-readthe last paragraph of the contract for the decoration of the seaside home to ensure she hadn't misinterpreted anything. The venture seemed too good to be true. To help Roger Antram design the interiors of twenty-four townhouses in Hove and one palatial country home west of it, she'd be fully employed for the next two years. Perhaps three. She'd buy a few new gowns and better yet, afford to take Camille out of that hideous boarding school and send her to a better one. Better than that, she'd earn more than she had in the past two years. A bright prospect when she'd lived so many years withoutany.
More than all of that, though, she itched to fill this client's new country house of twenty-eight rooms overlooking the southern waters with the most ethereal treasures she could conjure in her mind. Her mouth watered. The setting—the essence of it—was the finest she'd seen on any English coastline. Every ounce of her blood, every beat of her heart turned toward the view she knew so well. She transform the site into the most serene home inBritain.
But she shouldn't rush to do it. Mustn't without knowing who this potential client was. That worried her, having worked with one very cantankerous old gentleman two yearsago.
She ran a fingertip across one of the lines in the contract. "I see, Roger, that you expect this house to contain all the latest improvements. Electricity. How many homes have installed it? Two in England? Bathrooms with running water, efficient w.c.s. Astonishing. We’ll need the finest plumbers. And four lifts. Who does that? No one. If I decide to work on this, I may become as famous as you to have drawn theplans."
"We'll have work for years to come, Liv." Roger grinned. She'd worked with him on many houses over the past decade And on another country house in Norfolk last year. The client, a lord known for his penny-pinching ways, was the very devil to work with. Always late with his payments, too. "I'm happy with this client. He pays well and has already put down a deposit on my services and yours. I'm happy to post it into your account as soon as you signthat."
Oh, she was tempted to sign, then run out in the street and sing. But she refrained from such exuberance until she had the funds in her name. "For such largesse, what does he ask inreturn?"
"That you consult closely with him on fabrics, colors, appointments. He likes painting, sculpture too, and he has a growing collection of art from the impressionists. He wants it showcased here. He also asks for original art in the foyer.Trompel'oeil."
"Painting on plaster for depth perception takes a specialartist."
"That it does and I assured him you knew of a few. One inparticular."
She did. A very talented but very temperamentalcreature.
"Does he like cherubs and gladiators?" she joked, questioning now if she wanted to work with such an exacting client as this one seemed tobe.
"I doubt that." Roger shook his gray head. "He's above such mundaneconcepts."
"I should like to meethim."
"You can. Simply sign." Roger pointed to the bottom of thepage.
Looking up at Roger Antram, she arched her brows. She'd worked with him on so many different estates. "This seems inorder."
"It is. Our legal team has reviewedit."
Leaning forward in her chair, she placed the papers down on the architect's desk. The sites were west of Brighton in Hove. Attractive, delightful to her in all seasons of the year. The fee was a fifteen percent increase in her usual amount per home. That, too, was wise given the extra responsibilities she'd have of choosing wainscoting, paint colors, marble, kitchen appointments and fixtures and so much more for two large projects. She'd also have to lease a house in Brighton while she worked on the last phases of decoration. "I have one problem,Roger."
Perhaps to learn who had bought this land for the country house, she could have a chat with the current Lord Savage. He was her husband David's younger distant cousin who'd inherited the title and lands from him, arouéso careless with money that he needed to sell this marvelous parcel. Why, after so many years of holding on to this, did he decide to sell now? She'd told him often enough that she wished to buy it, if she ever earned enough. That was not in her cards. Never had been, really. Now someone had come along and purchased the plot. Blithe chance and serendipity meant she was to design the interior of the home for the new owner. Odd, how ironic life could be. And mysterious. "You know what Imean."
Roger tipped his head to one side, sheepish. "Ido."
She sat back, her palms up. "How can I sign this if I do not know who the clientis?"
He removed his glasses, put them to the mahogany expanse and pinched the bridge of his nose. "It's the client'swish."
"Why?" The prickle of suspicion that rose up her back had her shifting in herchair.
"I wanted you to see how favorable it was toyou."
She canted her head. "Before you tell me who thisis?"
He walked toward hiswindow.
"You're being terribly mysterious, Roger. I can't say as it’s comforting. You and I have had a very good working relationship for many years now. Why change your methods of working with me? If I've been remiss, not done a client's bidding, then you must tell me what it is thatI—"
