A Breach of Promise - Anne Perry [61]
“Civil.”
“Not a building less than standard.” Sandeman made it a statement. “I don’t believe that. He knows his job superbly. I would be prepared to say he is the best architect of his generation, perhaps of the century.” He stared at Monk as if prepared to defy a challenge.
“Where did he study?” Monk enquired.
Sandeman thought for a moment. “You know, I have no idea,” he said with evident surprise. “I haven’t heard anyone mention it. Is it of importance?”
“Probably not,” Monk answered. “It is unlikely the difficulty stems so far back. I assume that you have never heard suggestion that he is financially untrustworthy or—”
Sandeman did not allow him to finish. “He is an architect, Monk. A man of vision, even genius. He is not a banker or a trader. He sells ideas. I think rather than beating around the circumference of this, you had better tell me, in confidence, the nature of this difficulty. If it is the subject of a court case, then it will soon enough become public.”
Monk was more than ready. “He is being sued for breach of promise.”
Sandeman sat perfectly still. He did not speak, but disbelief was in every line of him.
“I am in the employ of the barrister seeking to defend him,” Monk answered to the question in Sandeman’s face.
Sandeman let out his breath slowly. “I see.” But there was doubt in his voice. He looked at Monk now with a certain carefulness. Something was unexplained. The debt between them was not sufficient to override his other loyalties, and there was a perceptible coolness in the room. “I doubt I can help you,” he continued. “As far as I know Melville, he is a man of complete probity, both publicly and privately. I have never heard anything whatever to his discredit.” He met Monk’s gaze steadily. “And I can tell you that without any discomfort of mind, knowing that I owe you a great deal for your assistance to me when I depended upon you.”
Monk smiled with a harsh twist of his lips. “The case may become ugly. I expect the family of the girl to suggest serious flaws in his character in order to explain his behavior in terms other than some fault in their daughter. If Melville is vulnerable in any way he has not told us, or even is not aware of, we need to know it in advance in order to defend him.”
Sandeman’s face eased, and his large body relaxed in his chair, crumpling his suit still further. “Oh, I see.” He did not apologize for his suspicion, it was too subtle to have been voiced, but it was there in his eyes, the suddenly warmer smile.
“Who is the lady?”
Monk did not hesitate; there was nothing to be lost. “Miss Zillah Lambert.”
“Indeed?” Sandeman was silent for a moment. “I still cannot help you. I know a little of Barton Lambert. Not a sophisticated man, but on the other hand he is nobody’s dupe either. He made his own fortune by hard work and good judgment—and a certain amount of courage. In my limited experience he has not been one to be socially ambitious, nor to take a slight easily.”
“And his wife?” Monk said with the shadow of a smile.
Sandeman drew in his breath and there was a flicker in his eyes which expressed possibly more than he was willing to say.
“A very pretty woman. Met her several times. Even dined at their home once.” He put his head a trifle to one side, a look of mild surprise on his face. “I confess I had not expected to find it so extraordinarily beautiful. And it was, believe me, Monk. I have dined with some of the wealthiest families in England, and some of the oldest, but for its scale,