Chapter 8 #3
It was indeed rather inappropriate for a man to speak to an unchaperoned young woman, although the space was a public one, so it wasn’t the worst thing in the world. “Do you think he knows she’s the daughter of the owner?”
Mr. Hobart’s lips flattened. “I think that’s why he approached her.”
“I see.” Whatever Mr. Lombardi said turned Flossy to stone. No, not stone. Glass. She looked as though the slightest touch would shatter her.
I thanked Mr. Hobart and hurried toward them, a smile plastered on my face. “There you are, Cousin. I’ve been looking for you.”
The points of Mr. Lombardi’s moustache lifted as he gave me a more generous smile than I’d given him. “Ah, la bellissima Miss Fox.” He took my hand and kissed the knuckles. “I have just met your cousin. She is very interested in a new pill made by my company.”
Flossy held up some mail she’d been holding.
“I was on my way to the post desk when Mr. Lombardi introduced himself. He suggested I sit in on his presentation on Saturday to hear all about the new pill.” She blinked rather furiously as she lowered her gaze.
She was on the verge of tears. What had he said to her?
With one eye on Flossy, I addressed Mr. Lombardi. “My cousin isn’t a doctor or pharmacist. Why would she be interested in your medicine?”
“It is not a medicine. It is a pill, yes, but for the improvement of a lady’s figure.”
Improvement? Allowances could be made for language and cultural differences, but Mr. Lombardi’s English was excellent, and I suspected telling a woman her figure needed improving would be equally as offensive in Italy as England.
Mr. Lombardi didn’t seem to notice my horror as he barreled on. “Calling it a medicine is a good idea.” He waggled a finger in the air. “No, not a medicine. A cure! A cure to make fat disappear.” He clasped my hand between both of his. “Miss Fox, you are a genius. Grazie mille.”
I watched him cross the foyer to the front door, a bounce in his step, until Flossy made a choking noise beside me.
With a hand covering her mouth, she hurried toward the lift. When the door didn’t immediately open, she gathered her skirts and took the stairs.
“Flossy, wait!”
She didn’t slow down, so I quickened my pace. I finally caught up to her on the first-floor landing. I wasn’t surprised to see she was crying.
“Don’t listen to him,” I said, wrapping my arm around her waist. “He’s loathsome.”
“I know that, but he’s right. I am fat.”
“You are beautiful and lovely, Flossy.”
“But compared to other women—”
“Do not compare yourself to others.” I caught her by the elbows and gave her a little shake.
“You are not them, and they are not you. Besides, most women we know starve themselves, or lace their corsets so tightly they feel lightheaded. I’m sure the lack of air prohibits their brains from forming sensible thoughts.
” Some women’s waists were so tiny from years of extreme lacing as to distort their figure into an unnatural shape.
Such measures must be unhealthy for both the mind and constitution.
“Flossy? Cleo?” Floyd came up the stairs, his smile fading when he noticed his sister’s state. “What’s wrong? Flossy, why are you crying?”
“Mr. Lombardi called me fat,” she blurted out.
“The bloody nerve of him!” Floyd circled his arm around her shoulders. “How dare he.”
“You call me fat all the time.”
“Not fat. Plump. It’s actually a compliment, you know. Most men like a woman with a little roundness.”
“Ugh.” She pushed him away. “Keep that talk for your chums and mistresses.”
We three continued up the stairs at a more sedate pace. I was pleased to see Floyd indignant on Flossy’s behalf. The siblings may bicker, but they were each other’s advocate when required.
“Let’s talk about nicer things,” Flossy said when we reached the second-floor landing.
She sounded as though she’d shrugged off Mr. Lombardi’s comments, but I decided to keep the conversation light. I didn’t want to mention the upcoming meeting about Mr. Pierce’s threat and worry her.
“Perhaps you can both help me,” I said. “It’s Harry’s birthday soon and I want to know what to get him. Any suggestions?”
“Nothing,” Floyd growled. “He’s merely your colleague, and you don’t have to buy colleagues birthday gifts.”
“Floyd’s right,” Flossy said. “Mr. Armitage is someone you work with from time to time. You don’t have to get him anything. It’s not as though you’re going to his birthday party.”
Floyd glared at me over the top of his sister’s head. I returned it with an arch look of my own.
Unaware of the exchange, Flossy continued on. “Although if you do want to get him something, Cleo, I’m happy to go shopping with you.”
I squeezed her arm. “Thank you, Flossy. We’ll go shopping regardless.”
She clapped her hands in delight. “Good. There’s no better medicine for the soul than a little jaunt to the shops. I’d like to see Mr. Lombardi try to bottle that.”
Floyd grunted. “If he could, he would.”
My uncle’s office was large, but, even so, it felt cramped with all the senior staff, as well as Peter the assistant manager, Floyd and Harmony in attendance.
After Uncle Ronald informed them of Mr. Pierce’s threat to disrupt Mr. Lombardi’s presentation, I gave them a description of Mr. Pierce’s appearance.
At the conclusion of the meeting, Mr. Hobart and Peter were instructed to inform the rest of the front-of-house staff, particularly the doormen and porters.
Before they all dispersed, I asked them to wait and hear what I had to say. “I learned something troubling about the Bella Vita Company this morning.”
Floyd crossed his arms over his chest. “It can’t possibly be more troubling than Lombardi’s exchange with Flossy.”
Uncle Ronald frowned. “What happened?”
“He called her fat.”
Harmony looked up from her notes with a gasp.
Mrs. Poole rolled her eyes and muttered “Idiot” under her breath.
Uncle Ronald grunted. “I hope you defended your sister’s honor.”
“He did,” I assured him. “What I learned is different. It will affect the entire hotel. His company is in financial difficulty. The Italian newspapers are reporting that he overextended himself and now can’t pay back his loans without closing several factories.
I’m worried that he won’t be able to pay for the Mayfair’s services. ”
Uncle Ronald stroked his moustache in thought.
Floyd, however, thumped his fist on the desk. “That must be why he keeps changing the subject when I bring up payment. Father, we should cancel the presentation before more money is spent. If he leaves the country before he pays us, we’ll never recoup it.”
“Or we could ask him to pay up front,” Mr. Hobart said. “We could present him with an invoice for what we’ve already spent and say we won’t spend more until it’s settled.”
“And if he doesn’t, then we cancel,” Floyd added.
Uncle Ronald continued to stroke his moustache with his thumb and forefinger.
“His presentation has led to an increase in guest reservations. We’ll still be out of pocket if he doesn’t reimburse us for the catering et cetera, but as an advertisement to other companies considering similar events, it could still work out positive for us in due course. ”
Floyd scoffed. “You’re going to let him get away with it? Father, the man’s a bounder! He doesn’t deserve to even be allowed to set foot in the Mayfair Hotel, let alone do so for free.”
Uncle Ronald would ordinarily have strong words in response when Floyd disagreed with him, but not this time. “The man is worse than a bounder, I agree, but this requires a delicate touch. I’ll speak to him.”
Floyd pushed himself to his feet. With a disappointed shake of his head, he walked out of the office. Uncle Ronald dismissed the rest of us.
As we exited, Mr. Chapman asked if he could speak to me in private. Given my fractious history with the steward, I was intrigued. Once the others had left, I asked him how I could be of assistance.
“It’s me who can help you. Possibly.” He glanced around to make sure we couldn’t be overheard, then lowered his voice. “Out of all the people I could speak to about this, you’re the one I trust with the information.” At my surprised look, he added, “I know. Ironic, isn’t it?”
“Should I be flattered?”
A ghost of a smile touched his lips. Perhaps he had a sense of humor after all.
“You may have guessed that what I’m going to tell you is very sensitive.
If you pass it on, please don’t tell anyone it came from me.
” He glanced up and down the corridor again before continuing.
“I’ve heard the waiters say that Mr. Lombardi bothers the maids. ”
“Unfortunately, it’s true. But that’s not news.”
“But this may be. Either his harassment of the maids is a ruse to throw everyone off, or he likes both.”
“Both what?”
“Women and men,” he whispered. “In fact, I have it on good authority that he does more than bother men.”
I pressed a hand to my throat as a flush crept up it. “Oh. I see.”
“I know this because I’ve seen him at the Café Royal.”
I frowned. “I don’t understand. The Café Royal is frequented by the artistic set. What of it?”
“Men who like men also go there, as do women who dress as men.”
“Mr. Lombardi is new to the city. Perhaps he didn’t realize it attracted that sort of crowd.”
Mr. Chapman tilted his head to the side. Not a hair on his elegantly coifed head moved. “I didn’t just see him having a drink, Miss Fox. I saw him kiss a man.”
“Did he recognize you?”
“He wasn’t kissing me! And no, I’m sure he didn’t.”
I recalled seeing men come and go from the Café Royal on the evening Harry and I had watched it from the other side of Regent Street.
Our vantage point outside number fifty-nine had given us the perfect view of the door.
Perhaps that was the entire point of that chosen meeting place.
It had nothing to do with the jewelry shop located there, and everything to do with the Café Royal opposite.
Did the person who’d written that note to Dr. Iverson want to take him inside? Did Dr. Iverson have affairs with men as well as women? If he did, perhaps the author of the note didn’t want to join him; perhaps they wanted to blackmail him.
What if Isabel Kempsey had been the author and the doctor discovered that?
He may have decided to silence her before she ruined his reputation and spread the gossip.
Killing her in his own consulting rooms wasn’t a very good idea on the surface, but what if he thought he could get away with it?
By hiring Harry, it made him appear innocent.
“Miss Fox? Are you listening?” Mr. Chapman prompted.
“I’m sorry, what did you say?”
“I said that you could use the information to ensure Lombardi pays the hotel now before he leaves London.”
I frowned. “You mean blackmail him?”
Mr. Chapman winced. “It’s such a dirty word, but yes. Blackmail him. I can try to get evidence if you need it.”
“I’m not sure I want to go down that route. As much as I dislike him, I don’t want to use someone’s nature against them. Why are you doing this, Mr. Chapman? I would have thought you’d be reluctant, too.”
He adjusted his tie, even though it was already pin-straight. “That’s my business. Suffice it to say, the man needs to get his comeuppance, and I will be glad to play my part in serving it to him.”
I watched the steward walk off. Whatever his reason for telling me, his information was more useful to me than he could know.