Page 49 of The Secrets of Lord Grayson Child
Izzy raised her head, wondering… She’d recognized Lipson’s heavy tread, and as she’d expected, other footsteps followed him into the foyer.
From behind her desk, she couldn’t see who had entered, but Gray, sitting at his elegant ease before it in the chair with its back to the bookshelves, had an unimpeded view. Quietly, he informed her, “It’s Lipson, followed by four gentlemen, who I suspect are your major advertisers.”
She sighed and put down her pencil. “I was expecting them.”
Having left the four men waiting in the foyer, Lipson rapped on the open door, then came in and shut it. He looked at Izzy and wryly smiled. “As we could have predicted, Belkin, Kennedy, Simms, and Morrison wouldn’t come on board, at least not for me. But all four are insisting we ‘honor our contract’ with them regarding running their ads. Silly beggars, but they won’t take any argument from me.”
Izzy nodded and rose. “As you say, that’s no more than we might have expected.” She went to the filing cabinet against the wall, pulled open a drawer, rummaged through the contents, then straightened with four slim folders in her hand. She shut the drawer and looked at Lipson. “I’ll see them one by one—best start with Belkin.”
Lipson glanced at Gray. “Do you want me in here as well?”
She reclaimed her chair. “Yes. They need to accept that what you tell them comes from me—that you speak with my authority.” She looked at Gray and said to Lipson, “You can show Belkin in.”
She set the folders on the desk and, the instant Lipson stepped out of the office, said to Gray, “I don’t suppose you’d like to go for a wander around the workshop.”
He held her gaze. “No. I’d rather remain here.”
She sighed. “Just try not to distract them.”
He arched a laconic brow. Both she and he knew him not distracting the men wasn’t possible.
She sorted the folders, then Lipson ushered in a florid-faced gentleman who looked ready to breathe fire.
Assuming a relaxed and pleasant demeanor, Izzy rose and waved the man to the vacant armchair before the desk. “Mr. Belkin. How kind of you to call. Do sit down.”
Belkin had intended to storm inside and bluster, but the sight of Gray, watching with undisguised interest, had taken him aback. As Izzy resumed her seat, he came forward cautiously and, on walking into the chair, caught himself and slipped into it.
Izzy hid a sigh; she’d known this was going to happen. Briskly, she said, “Mr. Belkin, I understand Mr. Lipson has explained the situation regarding the advertising charges for our special hue and cry edition.”
The words succeeded in bringing Belkin’s attention back to her, and he only just restrained himself from leaping to his feet. “Indeed, he did, Mrs. Molyneaux, and I must protest—most strongly! Belkin Emporium has a contract withThe Crier, ma’am, and it stipulates quite clearly the rate for each advertisement run. I must and will insist that contract be honored. To the letter!”
“Indeed, sir. I am entirely of similar mind.” She smiled calmly at the temperamental man. “That, in large part, was the reason behind Mr. Lipson’s visit this morning. We felt honor-bound to offer longstanding regular advertisers such as the Belkin Emporium first chance to secure slots in our special edition. I have a copy of your contract here.”
She opened the topmost folder, extracted the bound sheets of legalese, and turned back the first two pages. “As you will be aware, at clause six, the contract states that the agreed rates stated within the contract apply only to advertising in regular editions ofThe London Crier, and that inclusion in any special edition at such rates is specifically excluded, and further, that should inclusion in any special edition be offered, such inclusion will be subject to whatever advertising ratesThe London Crierdeems appropriate at that time.”
She raised her gaze to Belkin’s now-much-paler face. “Given that, sir, I had thought that a business such as the Belkin Emporium, keen to gain sales from ladies everywhere, would have leapt at the chance to secure prominent placement in an edition all but guaranteed to have a significantly larger and wider distribution. As everyone knows, a murder gains interest, but a hue and cry, with a reward offered, will be a sensation.”
Belkin’s expression had grown first calculating, then alarmed. He cleared his throat and ventured, “So our contract doesn’t cover advertisements in special editions?”
Izzy replaced the contract in the folder and clasped her hands on the cover. “No.”
“Ah. I see.” Although he hadn’t again looked at Gray, Belkin all but twitched with the impulse to glance at the elegant personage seated only a yard away. Doing his best to appear unaware, Belkin glanced the other way—at the foyer, where others who might snaffle the prime advertising spots waited.
Belkin snapped his gaze back to Izzy. “As to the rates for this special edition…what are you asking?”
Izzy smiled and got down to negotiating.
After the application of a few judicious strokes to his ego, when Belkin left the office ten minutes later, after having agreed to a hefty increase in fees for three placements in the special edition, he was almost preening.
The other three merchants waiting in the foyer, seeing Belkin’s overweening satisfaction, almost came to blows over who would be next to offer to enrichThe Crier’scoffers.
When the last, Simms, departed, shown out by Lipson, who was eager to return to setting up the press, Izzy gave a contented sigh and rose to replace the folders in the filing cabinet.
Gray observed, “Whoever drew up those contracts had a good head on their shoulders.”
Izzy shut the cabinet, turned, and met his eyes. “I drew them up.”
He dipped his head. “As I said.” To his mind, her performance managing the four businessmen had been masterful.
