“I want to sell the blasted things. Every single one of them. And I want to make as much money as I possibly can. But to do that I need someone I can trust. Tate says you’re the best.”
Lucas took a swig of port to hide any trace of the optimism budding within him. This was exactly what he wanted—needed—to hear. “If I may be so bold, you need to identify a buyer who is willing to pay a premium for such pieces. Fortunately, that is my specialty.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning I’ve spent my entire life studying every sort of antiquity, and items from the Far East are my prime interest. I maintain integral relationships with several collectors whose tastes are comparable to your uncle’s. It’s a matter of matching the piece with the buyer. It’s as simple as that.”
Wainbridge’s affable smile had faded, and now his long fingers tapped rapidly against the table. “I see. How long would all this take?”
Lucas intentionally kept his voice low. Calm. Trustworthy. “Well, that all depends on how quickly you need the money and how much you’re willing to accept. You could sell them tomorrow, I’ve no doubt, but it would be at a loss against their value. If you want to make the most money, your best bet is to look overseas.”
“Overseas? Where?”
“America,” Lucas clarified. “People there are eager to display wealth, and at this point in time, they’re willing to pay for the privilege.”
Wainbridge forced his fingers through his thick ebony hair. “How does this begin?”
“A full assessment of your uncle’s possessions would be necessary to determine values, and once you and I agree on what items are to be sold, then I begin my work.”
“For a fee, of course.”
Lucas smirked, folding his hands before him. “Of course. But the more profit we realize, the more that lines both our pockets. And don’t forget Tate. As one of my investors he’ll profit as well.”
Tate’s chortle rent the somber tone that had enveloped the conversation. “It’s a beautiful arrangement really.”
“But those are all details to be sorted later,” added Lucas. “Do you know if Milton had a collection log anywhere? Insurance policies? Anything of the sort?”
Wainbridge shook his head. “My uncle was not an organized man. Papers and portfolios are strewn all over the library and in his study. There’s little rhyme or reason to it.”
“I can review them if you’d like,” Lucas offered.
“I’ll take you up on that, and I have just the idea for it.” Wainbridge shifted eagerly in his chair. “I’m hosting a house party at Cloverton in a little over a week to introduce a small group of friends to my new home. That would be an ideal time for you to visit. The both of you.”
“Am I to understand that you’ve planned a house party and I’m not already on the list of guests?” Tate gaped, aghast. “Why was I not invited?”
Lucas ignored Tate’s complaint to focus on the task at hand. “Normally for a project of this magnitude, I’d require the assistance of at least one of my agents and days, if not weeks, of dedicated work.”
“No, no,” protested Wainbridge. “This must be done surreptitiously, for I have yet to share with you my biggest hindrance yet—my uncle’s widow.”
Lucas drew a deep breath in response.
“Aha!” Wainbridge’s vibrancy reappeared, and he pointed a finger in Lucas’s direction. “I see your expression. So you know her reputation then, do you?”
Just as Mr.Milton had notoriety, so did Mrs.Agnes Milton. But hers was of a very different nature.
Wainbridge leaned forward and lowered his voice. “When my uncle died, I inherited not only Cloverton Hall and its properties, but a small estate farther north—Windhurst Manor. He included the smaller property in the will under the condition that I provide for his widow and permit her to live out her days on Cloverton property. As a self-made man, he had the authority to leave any stipulation in his will he chose, and I’m forced to abide by it. If I fail to uphold this condition, Windhurst Manor will pass to another cousin. The issue therein is that Cloverton Hall, which appears to be the jewel in the Milton crown, is in deep debt, and the smaller estate is the only one earning an income.”
“Enlighten me,” encouraged Lucas. “Surely any rights to the Cloverton collection were solely in her husband’s name. What does Mrs.Milton have to do with her late husband’s collection?”
“She’s mad!” Wainbridge cried out. “She knows full well that I must allow her residence at Cloverton, and she spends her days lording over all as if she is still the mistress of the house. She refuses to allow anyone to touch a single thing that belonged to her husband. I’ve tried to be patient, but this cannot continue. Our best bet is to make sure she knows nothing of these plans until we are ready to act.”
Lucas exchanged glances with Tate again. This opportunity was unlike any other he’d encountered. It seemed almost too fortuitous. Just a few pieces from the famed Milton collection would not only save his business financially but also firmly reestablish him as one of the premier antiquarians in London.
“Well, then,” Tate exclaimed as he lifted his glass in a toast. “To a great party, to the old man, and to making lots of money.”
Chapter4
Olivia didn’t need to actually see the expression of utter indignation on her sixteen-year-old sister’s face to feel the full brunt of her contentious frustration.
