Page 47 of Ghost in the Garden
“Huxley Gregg owns it officially, but he’s in Lambert’s pocket.”
Not anymore, he isn’t.“Do you have proof of this?”
“Every rent day, Lambert’s at Gregg’s office. I’ve seen them—nothing else to do, have I? I wouldn’t like to say how they divide the spoils, but I’m sure the lion’s share goes to Lambert. It wasn’t just our building—it’s lots of them, including where they so generously put the survivors when ours fell in on us. They’ve even got some kind of public subscription going to rebuild it, and a fine place that’s going to be. On paper.”
Solomon leaned forward. “And Gregg was organizing this public funding?” His own charity must have contributed to it. Why had he not kept a closer eye on that?
“Lambert, though he has other people to speak for him. He’s even started ordering materials for the build, and they’re far inferior to those proposed on paper.”
“They could be for his other projects… But one way or another, he’s committing fraud.”
“If you can prove it.”
“I probably can.”
*
Goldie’s heart beatlike a rabbit’s as she crept up the stairs with the master’s morning cup of tea. Normally, her father or one of the lads took it, but they were all arguing about Silver, the new girl, and Goldie took advantage of their distraction.
She knocked and went in, to find the master was already up and partially dressed. Her mouth went dry at the sight of his muscles rippling as he pulled the shirt over his head. Since he didn’t acknowledge her presence, she walked up to him, holding the cup and saucer in front of her like a sacred offering.
He noticed her at last, and an amused smile curved his lips.
“Thank you,” he said gravely, taking it from her.
She didn’t step back. “Are you well, sir?” she asked boldly.
As she had hoped, his attention lingered. It did in the mornings. Denise said it was because he didn’t sleep with Mrs. Lambert anymore, and men’s urges were always strongest when they woke. But Denise thought she knew everything, because of Robin. Goldie knew the master was better than that, more than that. And she longed to take Mrs. Lambert’s place in his heart and his bed.
“Very well, my dear. When did you grow so pretty?”
She tossed her head. “I’ve always been pretty, sir. And now I’m grown up.”
His eyes wandered over her like a caress she could almost feel on her hot skin.
“So you are,” he murmured.
She raised her face, very aware she stood too close to him, and that neither had moved back. His gaze lingered on her lips. Did she imagine the infinitesimal move toward her?
Please! Please…
A breath of laughter stroked her face. “Does your father know what a minx you are? Scarper before we both pay.”
Still, he didn’t step back, but he did begin to drink his tea, his eyes warm above it. And he had given her an order, so she smiled pertly and swaggered out, because she had got his attention and his dismissal had been reluctant.
One day…and soon.No mere footman for her. She would have the master.
*
“I want youto come with me this morning,” Angela said abruptly to Constance. She was drinking her morning tea in bed and clearly planning her day.
“Of course. Where are we going?”
Agela wrinkled her nose. “To the dressmaker. She’s far too snooty for my taste, but you might get better work out of her. You’ve certainly got better taste.”
“What are you looking for?”
“An evening gown for some charity event of Caleb’s. It means a lot to him that I go and we fit in. I suppose he reckons I can if I don’t open my mouth.”
