Page 30 of Ghost in the Garden
“I have every reason to believe in his respectability. He and Mr. Gregg invest together in many ventures.”
“And if Mr. Gregg goes to prison,” Solomon said, watching Aitken wince, “what will become of those joint ventures?”
“That is so unlikely a contingency that I could not possibly guess. Are you seriously considering the property in Belgravia?”
Out of the blue, a vision flashed into Solomon’s mind, of himself walking through a gracious, empty house, inspecting the rooms and making plans. A woman walked by his side, his partner in all things.
Ludicrous.
He rose hastily, hoping he didn’t look as disconcerted as he felt. “I am always serious, Mr. Aitken. After speaking to Mr. Lambert, I may well be back.”
He went immediately to Lambert’s office, before any messengers from Aitken could reach him. It was indeed only a short walk around the corner. Here, he was admitted by a large doorman, although a glance at the individual, who wore no livery, caused him to wonder if this was one of Lambert’s footmen-bodyguards that Constance had told him about.
“My name is Grey,” he said, with more haughtiness than he had employed in Gregg’s office. “Mr. Lambert, if you please.”
The card he held out in no particular direction was taken not by the large doorman but by a clerk who bustled up to him. His jaw showed a tendency to gape.
“Mr. Grey! Please do sit down for one moment…” The clerk all but fled to one of the two offices opening off the main room. He appeared to be the only occupant of the outer office, if one ignored the muscle.
The clerk obviously knew Solomon’s name. He wondered if Lambert did. If not, the clerk clearly enlightened him, for in only moments, he was escorted into a neat, very unbusy office, occupied by another large young man in one corner, and, presumably, Lambert himself.
Unlike Aitken, Lambert did not fawn. He granted audiences in a manner guaranteed to take the self-important down a peg. If he hadn’t been born with the gift, it had certainly become natural to him. Solomon disliked him on sight, though whether on the basis of his own instincts or Constance’s, he wasn’t sure.
The man’s hair was dark and oiled, his whiskers well trimmed. His mouth was full, at once sensual and brutal, and his eyes… They were not the eyes of anyone Solomon would ever do business with. Constance’s presence in this man’s house appalled him.
Only his habitual reserve kept the distaste from his expression. Fortunately, Lambert did not offer to shake hands.
“Mr. Grey,” he said genially. “Sit down and tell me how I might assist you.”
Solomon sat without gratitude. Lambert resumed his seat on the other side of the desk. The clerk had vanished, although the large man in the corner was still there, lounging on a chair. No pictures or portraits relieved the stark, clean walls of this room, although the carpet underfoot was thick and the curtains opulent. The chair was comfortable, too.
“I have just come,” Solomon said, “from the office of Mr. Gregg. I prefer to meet personally anyone I consider doing business with.”
“Very wise, Mr. Grey. It’s a precaution I always take myself. What sort of business do you have in mind?”
“Property, since I am here,” Solomon said in a bored, slightly disappointed voice. “I am always looking for new investment possibilities, and then there is the matter of a suitable residence. Gregg’s man, Aitken, was recommending Belgravia.”
“It’s the new Mayfair,” Lambert told him. “We have built several beautiful homes there that are much admired and sought after.” His accent was interesting—less obviously London than his wife’s, as though by mixing with the better bred he had sheered the rough edges off it, yet wisely never bothered to pretend to be a gentleman. Presumably that had been Gregg’s part in their partnership.
“It is one matter I am considering,” Solomon said. “The other is less…expensive properties—such as the one that has landed Mr. Gregg in all sorts of difficulties. You are his partner in that venture?”
Lambert smiled, undisturbed. “You’ve been misinformed. I don’t take such risks.”
“Yet your partner does? This does not fill me with confidence.”
“Gregg grew careless, which is why I’ve disembarrassed myself of much of the business we had together. Now we go our own ways.”
“Apart from the Belgravia properties.”
“For the moment.”
“And your St. Giles properties?”
Lambert met his gaze without fear. “Do you have one in mind?”
“To be frank, I’m thinking of the one that fell down, which does give one pause. What will happen to those properties now? Will a new building be constructed on the plot of the old one?”
“Ask Gregg.”
