“You cannot be surprised by that, surely?”
Biting her lip, she returned her attention to the necessary repairs, which included broken marble in the ballroom, a hole in the dining-room wall, missing floor planks throughout and three blocked chimneys. “Do you know how much of the wood has rotted?”
“Enough for it to be a bother.”
Lifting her gaze, Amelia gave Mr. Gorrell the same assessing gaze she’d used on street vendors in St. Giles whenever she’d felt they were trying to get the best of her. “That isn’t a very useful answer.”
Mr. Gorrell shrugged. “What do you want me to say? You can see for yourself how run-down it looks. Frankly I can’t comprehend your interest in the place. If it were up to me, I’d probably have it torn down.”
“That would be a pity.”
Leaning forward, Mr. Gorrell crossed his arms on the table and gave Amelia the sort of hard look that might have unnerved a more timid woman. Influenced by a harsh past, she remained unaffected and stared straight back into his narrowed eyes.
“What can you possibly want with it?” he asked.
“If you don’t mind, I would like to keep my intentions pertaining to the property private.” She slid the piece of paper back to him. “These repairs are not enough to deter me. On the contrary, I am prepared to pay the full price for it today as long as you have the necessary papers for me to sign.”
“I did bring them with me,” he said, “but I’m afraid the three thousand pounds we discussed will no longer be sufficient.”
A cold chill swept over Amelia’s shoulders while her stomach pinched itself together with the feeling that he was taking advantage of her. Well, he was about to discover that where this matter was concerned, he would not be dealing with a duke’s mild-mannered sister, but with a woman accustomed to bargaining with thieves.
“When last we spoke, you told me that was the price for the building, and you assured me you would sell it to me if I was able to gather the funds. Well, I have done so, and I am ready to pay.”
“Unfortunately, there has been some development since then.”
“What development?”
He shrugged as though her interest in the property no longer mattered, which was quite a change from the eagerness with which he’d greeted her the first time she’d come to inquire about the building. As she understood it, the owner had been an old heiress who’d been driven into poverty by a series of lovers on whom she’d squandered her fortune. Forgotten and impoverished, she’d died alone in a part of town that none of the people she’d known in her youth had cared to visit. With no heirs, the house had been handed over to her solicitor, who was now trying to sell it for profit.
“As it turns out,” Mr. Gorrell said, “you are not the only interested party.”
She caught that thought and held it for a moment while considering its significance. “Who am I competing against?”
“Well. I cannot possibly tell you that without getting myself into a fair bit of trouble.”
“Very well.” She sat back and crossed her arms. “What is this other person’s counteroffer?”
Mr. Gorrell smiled at that point with the sort of glee that made the fine hair at the back of Amelia’s neck stand on end. “Five thousand.”
Maintaining a blank expression proved difficult. She stared back at the greedy solicitor with dumbfounded shock and blinked. “I beg your pardon, but did you just sayfivethousand?”
“I am as stunned as you, I assure you. I even thought three thousand might have been a stretch but this is proving to be quite a sought-after address.” He followed that comment with a chuckle.
“Right.” Amelia balled her hands into fists and straightened her spine. “Have you accepted the offer yet?”
Mr. Gorrell shook his head. “No, my lady. You were the first potential buyer to show an interest, so I thought it only fair to inform you of the development before moving ahead with someone else—give you a chance to counter, even though I’m sure you’d rather not.”
“Well, Mr. Gorrell, that is where you are wrong.” She had no idea where she would find the extra money, but acquiring this building was so essential to her plan she would have to figure it out somehow. “I will give you five thousand five hundred for it, but only if we sign the papers today.”
Mr. Gorrell’s eyes widened. “You cannot possibly have brought that much blunt with you.”
“Of course not. But I can give you the three thousand pounds we initially agreed upon as security. You’ll have to give me a week in which to come up with the rest.”
The way he pinched his lips together proved he wasn’t in favor of the idea, but eventually the promise of making an additional five hundred pounds must have convinced him, because he stuck his hand out across the table and waited for her to shake it. She did so with the awful feeling she’d just been hoodwinked, but at least the house would finally be hers, even if she didn’t have a clue as to how she was going to pay for it.
“Here we are then.” Mr. Gorrell pulled a collection of papers from his portmanteau. An inkwell and a quill were placed on the table beside them. Amelia watched as he dipped the quill in the ink and proceeded to add what appeared to be the date and his signature. “Sign here please,” he said. He handed her the quill and pushed the papers toward her, pointing to a spot right beneath his own handwriting.
“Perhaps we should note that the sum will not be paid in full today?” she asked, adding her own signature to the proof of sale. She handed the quill back to Gorrell.
