Chapter 7
“Floyd, what a lovely surprise,” I said, smiling. “You look handsome.” A strong whiff of cologne preceded him as he drew closer. “Are you dining out?”
“Don’t avoid the question, Cleo. Are you sneaking out of the hotel for an investigation or for a man?”
“I am not sneaking.”
He tugged the hood back from my head and arched his brows.
There was no use lying to Floyd. He was too perceptive. He also had some secrets to hide—secrets I was privy to—so I knew I could convince him to keep quiet about my nocturnal activities in exchange for keeping quiet about his. “An investigation, of course. I would never meet a man in the night.”
He pointed his top hat, which he held in his hand, at the exit. “So I won’t see Armitage waiting for you outside?”
“It’s his investigation, so he is out there. He was hired by Dr. Iverson to find out who murdered a patient in his consulting suite. Harry asked for my help, since I am familiar with the doctor and his somewhat dubious methods.”
“You shouldn’t have told him about Mother. That’s a private family matter.”
“He won’t splash it about.”
“Besides, I fail to see how you can be of any help to him. It’s not as though you can offer any insights about the doctor that he can’t glean from other sources.” He pointed the hat at me. “This is a ruse so he can get closer to you, Cleo.”
Should I deny it? Give in and admit that Harry and I were together?”
Before I could answer, he added, “Don’t fall for it. You must be strong and look past the charming manner, the handsome face, and see him for what he really is.”
I bit down on my tongue before I rattled off all of Harry’s good qualities.
“He’s off-limits, Cleo, that’s what he is. Understand? If you must have a dalliance, choose someone else. Someone who isn’t a former employee of the hotel who has feelings for you.”
“Such a vast pool to choose from,” I bit back. “Thank you for approving of me having dalliances, Floyd. That’s very progressive of you.”
The muscles in his cheeks bunched as he ground his back teeth together. “That’s not what I’m saying.”
“Speaking of dalliances, I have noticed that you didn’t answer my question about where you were going tonight.
Is that because you’re meeting a woman? Perhaps auditioning for a new mistress?
” My cousin had kept a mistress until a few months ago.
As far as I was aware, he’d not found himself a new one in the meantime.
“How did you know?” he asked, his tone somewhere between incredulous and impressed.
“You’re wearing an expensive cologne and your favorite waistcoat with the gold thread that you think impresses women.
Also, you’ve done the front of your hair in an elaborate sweep, which will be ruined once you put your hat on, hence you’re holding it.
Added to which, you didn’t answer me immediately when I asked, which meant you hadn’t yet thought of a story to explain where you were going.
For future reference, when a woman asks, just say you’re going to your club. It’s not as though we can check.”
He gave in with a sigh. “Is the cologne too much? I accidentally spilled it as I was applying a dab.”
I sniffed in his general direction. “It’s not too potent.”
“By the way, one does not audition for mistresses. I’m not filling a role in a play.”
“Aren’t you?”
He scowled. “You’re exhausting, Cleo.”
“Then give in and let’s walk out together. You can say hello to Harry.” I flipped up my hood then took his arm.
He didn’t move. “I’m not condoning you seeing him in the middle of the night.”
“It isn’t the middle of the night; it’s only eight-thirty.
And you will condone it, otherwise I’ll be forced to blackmail you and I would rather I didn’t have to.
” He still didn’t move, although he no longer glared at me.
That was a good sign that he was wavering.
A little more encouragement ought to have him giving in completely.
“Floyd, please don’t do this. You know Harry will be the perfect gentleman.
You also know this is for an investigation, nothing else. ”
He grunted. “I’m not happy about it.”
“I’m not asking you to be.”
Floyd delivered me to Harry, standing one streetlamp away from the front entrance of the hotel. “Armitage,” he said flatly.
“Bainbridge,” Harry replied, equally monotone.
“I trust you’ll be careful.”
“Cleo is safe with me, both physically and reputationally.”
“Unless someone sees you together.”
“My hood covers my face,” I pointed out. “Go, Floyd. Don’t make your candidate wait.”
Floyd finally put his hat on. “Good evening to you both.” He returned to the hotel entrance where he climbed into a waiting hansom.
Harry offered me his arm. “Does your cousin know he’s wearing too much cologne?”
“I decided not to tell him. Some women like it that strong.”
“Has he been keeping out of trouble lately?”
“I believe so. Nothing has reached my ears, and he does seem content. He still goes out regularly and stays out all night, which irks my uncle because it means he’s too tired the next day to be of any use.
But at least he’s not gambling anymore. Speaking of my uncle, did you tell him about Mr. Pierce? ”
“I did.”
I waited for more, but he offered nothing.
“How was Uncle Ronald with you?”
“Professional, polite. Did you expect him to throw me out on sight?”
“I expected him to offer you your old job back. Perhaps it wasn’t the right time.”
Harry chuckled. “Perhaps not.”
As we turned the corner onto Regent Street, we both stopped. A short man with a thin moustache stood outside number fifty-nine. I didn’t recognize him, but when he saw us watching him, he hurried away in the opposite direction.
“That was suspicious,” I said.
We walked past number fifty-nine and stopped a few doors down outside a draper’s shop.
There were no lights on inside the shop, and the nearest streetlamp was broken, so we felt somewhat invisible in the shadows with our dark clothing.
Although we weren’t far from the theater district, it was rather quiet on our side of the street.
On the other, piano music, voices and laughter spilled out of the Café Royal every time the door opened. It was a lively venue.
“Have you ever been inside?” I asked Harry.
“A few times, but not for a while. It’s popular with the artistic set. As the former assistant manager of a hotel and now private detective I never felt like I fit in there.”
It was hard to imagine Harry not fitting in anywhere. He got along with everyone and was generally well-liked.
Although I couldn’t see the dial of my watch in the dark, I was quite sure nine PM came and went.
No one stopped at the jewelry shop at number fifty-nine or even slowed their pace as they passed it.
The longer we waited, the cooler the night air became.
It nipped at my nose and cheeks and, despite wearing gloves, I had to tuck my hands under my arms for warmth.
Harry began to undo his coat buttons. “Put this around your shoulders.”
“Then you’ll get cold.” I snuggled into him and rested my head against his chest. I sighed into his warmth. “That’s better.”
He went quite still for a moment, then gave in and circled his arms around me and rested his chin on the top of my head. “I told your cousin I’d be careful with your reputation, and we’re quite close to the hotel here.”
I hugged him tightly, enjoying the purr of his deep voice in my ear. “No one can see my face.”
“Even so, I think it’s best if I take you home. The person who wrote that letter isn’t coming.”
“I agree. But not until I’ve done one thing.”
He drew away and looked down at me. “Should I be worried?”
“Very.”
I ushered him back into the recessed doorway where it was even darker than the pavement, and kissed him. He offered no resistance.
After breakfasting with Harmony in my suite the following morning, I met Uncle Ronald waiting at the fourth floor lift.
My heart fluttered wildly in panic before I realized Floyd wouldn’t have informed his father that I met Harry the previous night.
For one thing, Floyd would still be in bed, and for another, he couldn’t afford for me to follow through on my threat to reveal his secrets.
Besides, I was quite sure he didn’t think I was serious about Harry.
Because I’d been vocal about not wanting to get married, Floyd believed Harry would never be more than a mere dalliance.
The day would come when I would disabuse him of that notion.
Until then, I was happy for him to continue to be wrong.
“Good morning, Cleo.” There was no cheer in Uncle Ronald’s tone, but neither was there anger or censure.
“Good morning, Uncle. Do you have a busy day ahead?”
“Yes, as always. There’s a staff meeting today at five-thirty in the ballroom. I want you there to talk about the man threatening Lombardi’s presentation.”
“Certainly.”
The lift door opened and John the operator greeted us amiably.
As we rode the lift down, I asked my uncle if the preparations for Mr. Lombardi’s presentation were going smoothly, even though Harmony had already told me they were. I wanted his opinion.
“They are,” he said gruffly. “I’m eager for this entire thing to be over with.”
“I imagine so.” I didn’t want to say more in front of John. The staff weren’t aware of my aunt’s addiction to Mr. Lombardi’s tonic. “Events like these are hard work.”
“It’s not that. It’s Lombardi himself. He’s a demanding guest.”
“Oh?”
“He complained to Chapman after dinner last night that the food served in the restaurant is ordinary, the wine second-rate, and atmosphere too stuffy.”
“Poor Mrs. Poole.” The hotel’s chef de cuisine took her menu seriously. She’d received high praise since she took over the kitchen, so Mr. Lombardi’s criticism was unexpected.