Lindsay regarded his surroundings. At last he said, faintly, “Lovely. Which bit of mud would be mine?”
Nicol gave a short bark of laughter, surprising Lindsay—and Nicol too by the look of him. Their gazes met and briefly held, then Nicol flushed a little and turned away, giving Lindsay his back.
After a moment, he cleared his throat and gestured at the ground in front of him. “This section here will take six townhouses and the street will cross with the one we were just walking along. The Council’s plan is that most of the buildings will be constructed in a pattern of squares and straight lines.”
“It sounds elegant,” Lindsay observed, “if simple.”
“Quite so,” Nicol agreed. He appeared well-satisfied. “Elegant and modern.”
“You approve,” Lindsay observed.
Nicol turned back to face him then. “I do,” he said, smiling. “It’s a simple, rational design that suits the classical style of my buildings. Their beauty is, after all, in their lines and proportions.”
As he spoke of his work, Nicol’s wariness subtly eased.
“That is what you are selling then?” Lindsay said, “A vision of rational elegance?”
“I suppose so. Is that what you are looking to buy?”
Lindsay grinned. “Possibly. Join me for dinner tonight, and we can discuss the matter further.”
Nicol’s wary look promptly returned. “I—that is, what do you want to discuss?”
Lindsay could have kicked himself. In his eagerness to see Nicol again, he had been clumsy. Entirely lacking in subtlety.
Forcing an insouciant shrug, Lindsay said, “I’m interested in taking a plot but I’d like to discuss further your vision for how all this”—he gestured at the empty ground—“will ultimately look. We may as well discuss it over dinner. I could certainly do with the company. I barely know anyone in Edinburgh.” He offered an apologetic smile. “You’d be doing me a favour.”
A slight frown marred Nicol’s handsome face, and Lindsay wondered if it was because he wanted to refuse the invitation—or maybe because he wanted to accept.
“We could dine at Dalkeiths,” Lindsay added.
“The club?” Nicol asked. “It’s only for members, I think you’ll find.”
“A friend of mine has arranged a temporary membership for me for the duration of my stay,” Lindsay said. “I could take you as my guest. My friend tells me that Dalkeiths has the best table in town.”
Nicol didn’t disagree with that, but neither did he appear impressed, or even much interested. “I daresay,” he murmured.
“Will you come then?” Lindsay persisted.
Nicol’s frown deepened. “I’m not sure why you—”
“Oh, just say yes.” Lindsay interrupted impatiently, then, worried that he sounded a little too desperate, added more calmly, “It’s only dinner and some conversation.”
Nicol stared at him for a long minute. Then something seemed to give in him, and with a sigh he relented. “All right,” he said. “What time?”
“Seven o’clock?” Lindsay only just managed to keep the note of triumph out of his voice.
“Very well, Mr. Somerville. Seven o’clock at Dalkeiths.”
