Free Three Little Secrets by Liz Carlyle Page B

of questions about the house, which he answered almost too cheerfully. “My clerks have prepared this for you,” he said, when she paused for breath. He passed a sheaf of thick, cream-colored paper across the desk. “I wished you to have it at once. As you can see, the seller has countersigned here. We need only your signature just there, to the right of his.”
    He pointed to the bottom of the last page, but the name was not one which Madeleine recognized. “And who is this Mr…. Mr. Evans, is it?”
    Mr. Rosenberg waved one hand. “Oh, that is just a formality,” he said. “Evans oversees the day-to-day operations of the business. He has signing authority on all deeds and contracts.”
    Madeleine’s brows drew into a knot. “Rather like a clerk, do you mean?”
    Rosenberg laughed. “Well, a very high-level clerk, in this case,” he answered. “We are talking about an exceedingly large, remarkably successful enterprise which has diverse business interests all over London.”
    “But this company which built my new house—it is wholly owned by a Mr. MacLachlan, is it not?” Madeleine batted her eyes innocently. “I believe someone once said as much to me.”
    Rosenberg looked vaguely confused. “Well, yes. Of course.”
    Madeleine did not see any “of course” about it, but she smiled her most pleasant polite-society smile. “I wonder, Mr. Rosenberg, if you might answer one last question for me?”
    “I shall try.”
    Madeleine decided to be blunt and ask the one thing she burned to know. “I admit to a rather prying curiosity,” she said. “Just how did Mr. MacLachlan begin this exceedingly large business of his?”
    Rosenberg frowned. “I am not sure I perfectly understand your question, Lady Bessett.”
    “Well, some men inherit a family business,” she went on. “And some build their businesses over two or three decades. Mr. MacLachlan’s rise, I gather, has been meteoric. I cannot but wonder how one so young became so successful so quickly.”
    Mr. Rosenberg nodded affably. “Yes, he is a very young man, is he not?” he answered. “And his—shall we say, ambition —is without question. But I think I see what you are asking, Lady Bessett. Mr. MacLachlan’s business was begun in the same humble manner as are most. He had a loan from a family member.”
    “A—a loan?” she echoed disbelievingly. “Is that what he called it?”
    Again, the cheerful nod. “And he would not mind my saying so, either,” the solicitor went on. “His maternal grandmother financed his first few ventures. Hence the name.”
    “The name?”
    “MacGregor,” said the solicitor. “MacGregor & Company.”
    “He named it for his grandmother ?”
    But Mr. Rosenberg was studying her oddly. “You look skeptical, Lady Bessett,” he remarked. “Had you some reason to believe otherwise?”
    Swiftly, Madeleine shook her head. “No.” She snatched her papers from the edge of the desk. “No, I was merely curious.”
    Mr. Rosenberg slid back his chair and laid his hands across his rather ample belly. “Well, it has been a pleasure meeting you again, Lady Bessett,” he said. “If our paths do not cross again, I trust you will enjoy your new home.”
    Madeleine did not understand. “I’m sure I shall,” she agreed, coming gracefully to her feet. “Kindly send word as soon as it is completed, and I shall bring a bank draft at once.”
    “A bank draft?” He seemed surprised.
    Madeleine looked down at the papers she held. “This is my copy of the purchase contract, is it not? And now I am to bring a bank draft a fortnight hence, and take title to the property?”
    Rosenberg slowly shook his head. “No,” he said quietly. “No, Lady Bessett. What you hold there is the title to the property.”
    “But—but I have not paid you anything beyond the initial ten percent,” she protested.
    “A sum which has been remitted to your bank,” said Rosenberg. “Mr. MacLachlan has deeded you the property,