Chapter 3

“ W hat are you doing here?” I blurted out.

Harry approached, wiping his hands on a rag. He wore dirty overalls over his clothes, and oil smudged his cheek, but I didn’t point it out. Knowing him, he’d ask me to wipe it off and I did not want to touch him. That might lead to kissing him, and I’d vowed not to let that happen again. I’d decided to set aside my feelings for the sake of my independence. It wasn’t fair to let Harry, or any man, think we had a future together when I had no intention to marry.

Harry sometimes made it difficult to stay on track, however, especially after an absence and when he looked at me with chocolate-colored eyes that danced merrily upon seeing me.

“Last time Lord Dunmere was here, I asked his mechanic to show me how the engine worked.” Harry jerked his thumb at the mechanic giving the groom a lesson. “I’ve spent an hour or two here every day since his return.”

Harry had an affinity for all things engineering, so it wasn’t surprising the workings of the Peugeot intrigued him. I suspected his intelligent mind meant he already knew all there was to know about it.

“How was your holiday?” he asked.

“Lovely, but I’m glad to be home.”

His crooked smile flashed again. “Miss me, did you?”

“You would think that.”

“What other reason could you have to come to the mews on the same day as you arrived back? You rarely come here.”

“Mr. Hobart sent me to check that Cobbit wasn’t too put out by that.” I indicated the automobile.

“Cobbit’s not here. He drove some guests to the Tower, something Uncle Alfred would have known. He sees the travel schedules in advance.”

I bristled. “He did send me!”

Harry smirked. “I believe you.”

“The last place I want to be is in a smelly, airless mews with a man who has nothing better to do than be annoying. I have a new case, as it happens, and it requires my attention.”

“I have to leave, too. I have an appointment in the tearoom on Piccadilly. I’ll walk you to the end of the mews and you can tell me all about your case.” He began to remove his overalls.

I didn’t wait.

“Cleo!” he said, catching up to me as he put his jacket on. “Why wouldn’t you wait for me? Are you afraid I’ll try to steal your case?”

“No. There’s no client.”

He adjusted his necktie. “So, tell me about it.”

“No.”

“Why not? We work well together.”

“Because there may not be a case. If there is, I have plenty of other people to discuss it with, including Monty.”

“Monty?”

“D.S. Forrester.”

“I know who Monty is, I just…” He sighed. “Never mind. Are you cross with me because I teased you about missing me?”

“Not at all.” We reached Piccadilly, where we had to part ways. I gave him no opportunity to press me further about my abruptness. I didn’t want to be forced to answer. I didn’t know how to answer. “Goodbye, Harry.”

“Cleo, wait.” He caught my elbow but quickly released it. His gaze softened, leaving me in little doubt of his feelings toward me. The intimate moment was somewhat ruined by the smudge of oil on his cheek. “I want you to know that I missed you, too.”

I crossed my arms, shot him a defiant look, and said, “I will ask Mr. Hobart to tell you that he did send me to the mews to speak to Cobbit. Then you’ll feel even more of a fool than you look.”

“How do I look?”

I smiled, turned around, and strode away without telling him about the smudge. I resisted the urge to glance over my shoulder the entire way back to the hotel entrance.

Inside, Mr. Hobart smiled guiltily at me. So, he had sent me to the mews knowing Cobbit wouldn’t be there, and Harry would. I ought to tell him to stay out of my affairs, but I didn’t have the heart. He was sweet and kind, and I knew he was fond of me in a fatherly way.

Besides, I didn’t want to explain why I was avoiding his nephew. I suspected he’d try to talk me out of my conviction, and I wasn’t ready for that conversation.

I planned to spend the following morning catching up on my correspondence. I’d sent postcards to my friends in my former hometown of Cambridge while I was away, but wanted to go into further detail about my Brighton holiday. Writing letters also provided a distraction as I waited for Monty to call me back about any luggage that may have been left behind at Victoria Station. The more I thought about it, the more concerned I became for R.P. I was positive she hadn’t changed carriages during the journey. That left only one explanation for her disappearance.

The arrival of Miss Hessing was another welcome distraction. The bride-to-be couldn’t stop talking about her fiancé, and their future plans. Her bubbly chatter was a far cry from the shy woman I’d met when she and her mother first arrived at the hotel some months ago. It was clear from the way she cheerfully discussed the upcoming wedding that she didn’t know her mother was pressuring Floyd and Harmony to reduce the cost. I wouldn’t be the one to tell her. No one should. Her wedding day ought to leave her with wonderful memories.

Miss Hessing left an hour later, only to be replaced by Flossy, carrying some magazines in her arms. “I thought I might find Harmony here,” she said, taking a seat on the sofa.

“I haven’t seen her since breakfast. She’s very busy with the wedding.”

“That’s what I wanted to talk to her about. I wanted to give her these.” Flossy fanned out the magazines on the table. “Before we left for Brighton, she borrowed a few to give her inspiration for the reception. I thought she might like to view the ones that came while we were away.”

“That’s kind of you to think of her. I’ll pass them along.”

There was a knock at the door and Floyd let himself in before I reached it. He thrust his wrist out to me. “Can you do up my cuff links?”

“Nice to see you, too, Floyd.”

“Sorry, yes, nice to see you, Cleo. You look well. Did you enjoy the holiday?”

“I did, thank you, particularly the sea bathing.”

“Flossy said you went every day. Did you miss me?”

“Of course.”

“Truly?” He sounded surprised yet pleased.

I finished attaching one cuff link and he handed me the other. “Hopefully you can join us next year.”

He made a face. “No thanks. My favorite time of the year is when everyone leaves London and I’m left to fend for myself.”

I laughed, thinking he was joking, but he looked quite serious. “Floyd, you haven’t fended for yourself a day in your life.”

Flossy called out from the sitting room. “He just likes the freedom that comes with our parents not peering over his shoulder.”

“It must have put a dent in your plans when your father returned after only a week,” I said.

He humphed . “Unannounced, too.”

I finished with his cuff and fixed his tie for him. “Don’t you have a valet to do this?”

“I do, but he’s hopeless. I think he must have slept in today.”

“Why do you keep him on?”

“Because he’s discreet.”

“Ah. You mean he doesn’t spy on you for your father.”

He winked at me. “I’d better run. Harmony wants to see me about something, and she’s a stickler for punctuality. If I arrive late to a meeting, she gives me the meanest look.”

Flossy joined us from the sitting room, carrying the magazines. “Pass these on to her for me. She might like to browse them for ideas.”

Floyd wouldn’t take them. “It’s too late to change anything now. Anyway, those are English.”

“So?”

“Harmony felt an American style of wedding would be more to Mrs. Hessing’s taste.”

“What is an American style of wedding and how is it different to an English one?”

Floyd shrugged. “Harmony spoke to some of our American guests, and they gave her the society pages of their magazines and newspapers. She claims the articles and photographs of the weddings of wealthy American families gave her a lot of inspiration, but I’m not privy to the details. I’m more of a higher-level manager. She takes care of the minutiae.” He thanked me for my assistance with the cuff links and let himself out.

Flossy caught the door before it closed and watched him stride off along the corridor to the lift. “My brother is finally maturing.”

“Why do you think that? Because he’s up before midday?”

“Because he hasn’t teased me about the last time I went for a paddle in Brighton.”

“What happened the last time?”

Flossy hugged the magazines to her chest and hurried from my suite.

With little to do for the rest of the day, I planned to join my friends in the staff parlor that afternoon for a chat. I wanted to gauge their thoughts on the missing R.P., and whether I was overreacting. Harmony might not be there, but I hoped to see Goliath, Frank, Peter and Victor, one of the cooks. They sometimes helped me in my investigations. They were also good company.

I didn’t reach the parlor, however. I’d barely set foot in the foyer when Peter drew my attention to a guest sitting on one of the burgundy leather armchairs, reading a newspaper. The long-legged man held the paper up so that it obscured his face, but it was oddly angled, as if he were peering past it in the direction of the check-in desk.

“It’s Harry Armitage,” Peter told me. “He came in thirty minutes ago and hasn’t moved.”

I quickly scanned the area, looking for my uncle. Thankfully he wasn’t there. “What’s he doing here?”

“When I asked, he said he was waiting for someone, but he wouldn’t say who. I’m worried what will happen if Sir Ronald sees him.”

While Peter and the other staff knew my uncle had dismissed Harry from his position as assistant manager several months ago, they didn’t know that it was because he’d discovered Harry had been arrested for theft as a thirteen-year-old. Uncle Ronald’s fury was clear to everyone, however, and whenever Harry set foot in the hotel, the staff grew anxious that Uncle Ronald would have him thrown out. Last time, he’d been civil to Harry. It remained to be seen if that was a fleeting moment that would never be repeated.

“Have you informed Mr. Hobart?” I asked. If anyone could discover the real reason for Harry’s presence, it would be his uncle.

“He’s in a meeting with Sir Ronald. I’ll tell him when I see him. Unless he’s in the company of Sir Ronald, that is.”

The lift door opened, and we both stared at it. I released a breath when two guests emerged.

I thanked Peter for informing me, then walked up to Harry. I pulled down the corner of his newspaper so we could make eye contact. “You’re making Peter nervous. He doesn’t know whether to ask you to leave or distract Sir Ronald if he comes downstairs.”

Harry folded the paper. “Don’t be nervous.”

“I said Peter is nervous, not me.”

“I’m working.”

“That doesn’t make his decision easier. If anything, it makes it harder.” I glanced toward the counter where a new guest was checking in. “What does your investigation have to do with the guests? Or are you observing the front-of-house staff?”

“I can’t tell you.”

“I tell you about my cases.”

“Only when you need my help.”

“I never need your help, Harry.” It wasn’t true, but I wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of admitting it.

His dimples appeared with the flash of his smile. “That means you involve me because you like my company. I knew it.”

I’d walked right into that one. “Seriously, Harry, you shouldn’t stay. If my uncle sees you, it could be awkward. Tell me who you’re watching, and I’ll take over for you. I have nothing better to do anyway.”

“Your case has ended already?”

“I’m still waiting on some news from Monty.” I sat on the armchair beside Harry and nodded at the check-in counter. “Are you spying on the staff or guests?”

He hesitated a moment before unfolding the newspaper. “My investigation is confidential, Cleo.”

“I’d never break a confidence, especially yours.” I laid a hand on his arm. His gaze lowered to it. “You know you can’t stay.”

“Sir Ronald won’t throw me out.”

“I admire your confidence, but that’s not what I meant. The newspaper provides only so much cover. Sooner or later, some of the guests will recognize you, particularly the ladies arriving for afternoon tea. You were a great favorite of many when you worked here, and they’ll want a brief chat before they enter the sitting room.”

He didn’t like his popularity being pointed out to him, but he knew I was right. “Very well. I’ll tell you in case you have to take over. After I left the mews yesterday, I met with Mrs. Hessing. She believes a gossip columnist has checked into the hotel in an attempt to find out more about the wedding preparations.”

“Find out from the staff?”

“Apparently.”

“Staying in one of our rooms is a rather expensive way to gather gossip.” Even the Mayfair’s cheapest rooms on the fifth floor cost a considerable sum for one night. “Doesn’t Mrs. Hessing want the attention anyway? I would have thought she’d enjoy seeing her daughter’s wedding in the society pages.”

“She does want it, but on her terms. She’s worried the columnist will reveal too much too soon and spoil the surprise of the spectacle. She’s also aware that events like this often don’t have smooth lead-ups and she’s worried that will overshadow the reception itself.”

I couldn’t blame Mrs. Hessing for wanting to control the story rather than leave it to chance. The press could focus on one small negative and ruin everything. Even so, hiring Harry to flush out the columnist was an extreme method to ensure privacy.

“What does the columnist look like?” I asked as a man wearing a purple silk waistcoat and cravat made a beeline for Mr. Chapman, who was reading the reservations book near the entrance to the sitting room. “Is it him?”

“ She’s aged in her thirties with blonde hair, a long nose and sunken chin.” Harry raised the newspaper as a lady walked by. “That’s Mrs. Hessing’s description, not mine. Mrs. Hessing doesn’t know which newspaper this columnist works for, but she has already approached Liddicoat, trying to goad him into admitting he’s marrying Miss Hessing for her fortune.”

“What a ghastly woman.”

“She also approached both Mrs. and Miss Hessing, but Mrs. Hessing realized she was insinuating the same thing and sent her away before Miss Hessing caught on.”

It wouldn’t matter if she had. Miss Hessing wouldn’t believe it. She was sure of Mr. Liddicoat’s love for her now. Even so, the gossip columnist was wretched for stooping to such a tactic. “Why does Mrs. Hessing believe she’s staying at the hotel?”

“She saw the same woman at the reservation desk the day before yesterday. When Mrs. Hessing demanded Uncle Alfred find out what she wanted, he discovered she’d made a reservation for tonight and tomorrow night. She hired me to thwart the woman’s attempts to gather information after my uncle and yours refused to cancel the reservation without knowing for certain she was the gossip columnist.”

“What name is the reservation under?”

“Mrs. Blaine. She hasn’t checked in yet.”

We both looked toward the check-in counter. The clerk passed a gentleman the key to his room, and the guest went on his way. There was no one waiting to be served.

“I’ll watch for her,” I said to Harry. “You should go before Uncle Ronald sees you.”

“It’ll be fine.”

“Because you’re working for Mrs. Hessing? Harry, she won’t be staying here forever. Once she’s gone, my uncle will remember that you sat here for hours after he expressly told you not to come back. I wouldn’t put it past him to…” I waved my hand in the air, not quite sure what my uncle would do to Harry.

He took my hand as I lowered it to my lap. “Cleo, I like that you’re worried about me, but you don’t have to be.”

I slipped my hand free and rose. “I’ll keep an eye out for your suspect, but if you don’t want me to replace you, I should go so as not to draw attention.” I turned away before he noticed my face heating.

Peter approached after having a brief discussion with the check-in clerk. He had a message for me. “A Detective Sergeant Forrester called and has asked you to telephone him as soon as possible.”

I turned to Harry. “I’ll do what I can to help, but if my uncle throws you out, don’t blame me. I did try to warn you.”

I walked off to ask the check-in clerk if I could use his telephone. I’d just lifted the earpiece off the hook when the lift door opened, and Uncle Ronald and Mr. Hobart stepped out. Mr. Hobart tucked a clipboard under his arm and headed to his office. Uncle Ronald, however, stopped. As if he sensed an intruder in his domain, he suddenly turned toward the armchair where Harry sat.

Their gazes met.

My uncle’s back stiffened.

Harry nodded at him.

To my surprise, Uncle Ronald nodded back. Then he went on his way without a word to anyone.

Harry smirked at me, wiggled his fingers in a wave, then raised the newspaper to obscure his face again. He must have already had a word with my uncle. Or Mrs. Hessing had. Either way, Uncle Ronald wasn’t surprised or cross to see him there. Harry would probably have admitted it if I hadn’t cut him off when I became flustered that he’d held my hand, so I only had myself to blame.

When Monty came on the line, I turned my back to the foyer to avoid distractions. I wanted to give him my undivided attention. I was glad I did.

“I need your help, Cleo,” he began. “You could be right about the woman you saw—or didn’t see—leaving the train. A man reported his sister missing late yesterday. He was told to call back if she still hadn’t appeared this morning, which he did. He claims his sister was supposed to be on the ten-thirty express from Brighton. At Victoria Station, she should have caught a taxicab home, but she never arrived. As the day wore on, he checked with her employer and she hadn’t gone there, either. The case was assigned to one of the other detectives, but he’s disinclined to investigate because he thinks she’s run off with a fellow and will turn up. It sounded like your missing woman, so I thought you might want to look into it while my colleague drags his feet. Time is of the essence with missing person cases, but my hands are tied.”

“Thank you, Monty. I’ll begin an investigation immediately. Did you look into the uncollected luggage at the station?”

“I did, but there was none. According to the brother, she only took a carry bag with her anyway, not a trunk.”

“What was her name?”

“Ruth Price.” He then gave me the description given by the brother. It matched the woman I’d met in Brighton and seen get on the train but not get off.

I pressed a hand to my stomach. I had a terrible feeling that Ruth Price had met her end on the express to London.