3 Service for Two (12 page)

“You’ve met him?” Cecily said in surprise. There didn’t seem to have been time for the doctor to do much socializing.

“Oh, yes,” Phoebe assured her, the brim of her hat bobbing up and down. “He came to visit Algie. They were closeted for quite some time in Algie’s office.” She sighed. “Algie never seems to have any trouble talking to men. I just wish he could be as relaxed with women. At times he acts as if he’s mortally afraid of them.”

She tilted back her head to peer up at Cecily. “Of course, he never did like to be touched. He couldn’t bear me to put
my arms around him. Not affectionate at all. Not like dear Sedgley. Now there was a demonstrative man.”

“It would be a very dull world if we didn’t all have our individual tastes,” Cecily said, her glance wandering to James’s portrait. She knew what it was to miss a man’s touch. A hand laid briefly on the arm, a warm pat on the shoulder. A simple gesture of reassurance that could speak so much stronger than words.

As if sensing her moment of melancholy, Phoebe said brightly, “I’m thinking of calling in at Harris’s. I hear he has a new shipment of millinery. Not that I intend to buy a new hat, of course—I have so many—but I do like to look at the latest fashions. Would you care to join me? We could have a pot of tea afterward at Dolly’s Tea Shop.”

Cecily thought about her plan to search the card rooms. Baxter would be overseeing the midday meal in the dining room for the next hour or so. And she would enjoy a breath of fresh air. Making up her mind, she smiled at Phoebe. “Give me a few moments to fetch my cape and hat, and I’ll order the trap.”

“Oh, good,” Phoebe said, settling back in her chair. “These little outings are so much more fun with someone else to share them.”

Cecily sent a wistful glance back at the portrait. “Yes,” she said softly, “they most certainly are.” She left Phoebe alone in the library while she climbed the stairs to her suite. But her mind wasn’t on the prospect of tea at Dolly’s, or the new line of hats in the shop.

As she rounded the curve of the staircase to the second floor, she looked over the banister to the lobby below. She saw Mrs. Chubb hurrying across the carpet toward the kitchen stairs, while a tardy guest strolled in the other direction toward the dining room.

Madeline’s warning echoed clearly in her mind.
Disaster comes in innocent guises
. Disaster to whom? To her? To the Pennyfoot? Her apprehension was a tangible thing, weighing on her shoulders like a bag of coal. Something was going on in the hotel, that much was very clear. Something far more dangerous than the liberties she took with the law.

If something happened to destroy the reputation of the Pennyfoot, or worse, to close it down entirely, she would never forgive herself. James would never forgive her. Somehow she had to discover exactly what had happened below stairs this past weekend. And she could only hope that when she did, she would be able to do something about it. Without involving the Pennyfoot if possible.

A tall order, she knew. But imperative. She had far too much to lose.

CHAPTER
12

“I do declare,” Phoebe said from under the cartwheel brim of a royal blue hat, “people are wearing more on their heads nowadays than on the rest of their bodies.”

Eyeing the profusion of silk poppies and ribbons, Cecily was inclined to agree. A very large ostrich feather in pale blue curled enticingly down to Phoebe’s shoulder, shedding tiny bits of fluff as she turned this way and that in front of the mirror.

“What do you think?” She struck an elegant pose for Cecily, who pretended to contemplate the effect.

“Yes, I like it. It’s very becoming.”

“It is absolutely dashing,” Phoebe murmured, “but such an outrageous price.” Reluctantly she took the entire mass of frippery off her head and replaced it on the display stand.

Having gone through this procedure with Phoebe at least a
dozen times with exactly the same results, Cecily was growing decidedly weary. Also, her stomach was starting to complain audibly of neglect. It must be at least half past one, and Phoebe showed no signs of abandoning her search for the perfect hat.

She was wandering around the milliner’s, bending low to look into display cases, fingering the hats displayed on shelves, and peering into the small bay window for something she might have missed.

Emmaline, the shop assistant, hovered discreetly within earshot, obviously hoping for a sale. Since they were the only two customers in the shop, Cecily could understand her eagerness.

She knew full well, however, as Emmaline must also know by now, that Phoebe had no intention of buying a hat. The fussy woman was merely enjoying herself, trying on a varied assortment, while most likely getting ideas on how to improve the collection of hats she already owned.

Since the shape of all the hats was more or less the same, with only the trim distinguishing one from the other, all Phoebe really had to do was add a ribbon here or there, rearrange a few flowers, throw in a stuffed bird or two, and she had a new hat for a few pence.

Cecily’s stomach rumbled, loud enough for Emmaline to send her a look of sympathy. Cecily decided she’d had enough. It was warm in the shop, and the fur-trimmed wool coat she wore over her dark gray suit was more suited to the chilly sea air outside than the stuffy confines of the milliner’s. She could also feel the lace collar of her blouse scratching her chin.

“I’m sorry, Phoebe, but if we don’t go to Dolly’s right away, I shan’t have time for tea.” She walked purposefully toward the door, giving Emmaline a slight nod.

Phoebe sighed loudly behind her. “Oh, very well. I shall just have to wait for the next shipment to decide.” She trotted across to the door as Cecily opened it.

Her gaze on Phoebe, Cecily didn’t see the tall man outside until he spoke her name, startling her.

“Mrs. Sinclair! What a very great pleasure it is to see you again.”

He stood on the pavement, hat in hand, the bright sun shining on his hair. His perfect teeth flashed a smile at her as he bowed low over her gloved hand to touch his lips to her fingers.

“Oh, my,” Phoebe said breathlessly at her side. “Dr. Prestwick. Fancy meeting you here in the High Street.”

“I was on my way back from visiting a patient and decided to take a leisurely stroll along the shops. I haven’t really had time to explore my new surroundings as yet.”

He still had hold of Cecily’s hand, and she withdrew it from his grasp, trying to ignore the tingling in her fingertips. “I’m afraid there isn’t too much to explore in Badgers End,” she said, meeting his dark gaze with a flutter in her stomach. She prayed her hunger pangs would not make themselves heard now. That would be just too embarrassing.

“Oh, I think there is a great deal that interests me.” His meaningful smile seemed to exclude Phoebe, making Cecily feel disturbingly isolated with him on the busy street.

A motor car rumbled down the middle of the road, belching smoke every now and again, making conversation impossible for a moment or two. Waiting for it to pass, Cecily was conscious of Dr. Prestwick’s eyes boring into her face, as if committing it to memory.

Unsettled by the absurd thought, she looked at Phoebe, who seemed entranced by the doctor. “We should be getting along,” she said pointedly.

To her dismay, Phoebe gave the man a dazzling smile and said, “We were just about to partake of tea and crumpets at Dolly’s Tea Shop. Would you care to join us?”

“I would have enjoyed that very much,” Dr. Prestwick said, still gazing at Cecily. “Unfortunately I have a pressing engagement. Perhaps I may call on you at the hotel in the near future?”

Cecily wasn’t at all sure how she felt about that. On the one hand, it was her social duty to welcome a stranger to the village. As owner of the Pennyfoot Hotel, it would be
considered most discourteous if she did not issue an invitation to call.

On the other hand, Dr. Prestwick unsettled her, to the extent that his attention quite worried her. She wasn’t ready to deal with an emotional response to anyone right now and she didn’t want to encourage the man. He made no secret of the fact that he admired her, which put her in a most vulnerable position.

For a brief moment she wondered what Baxter would have to say about her being courted again. Then, annoyed at her immature notions, she gave the doctor a cool smile. “I would be happy to receive you at the hotel. I am usually there most mornings.”

“That would be most enjoyable.” He paused, then added as if an afterthought, “I understand there will be a Valentine’s ball at the Pennyfoot this weekend.”

“Yes. One of my staff is to be married on Saturday. We are holding a small reception at the hotel, followed by the ball.” She hesitated, knowing what he expected her to say and reluctant to say it. She could see no other way out. “If you would care to attend,” she added, “we shall be delighted to have your company.”

He lowered his head in a slight bow. “It will be my very great pleasure, madam. It is so kind of you to invite me.”

Cecily nodded, wondering what kind of hornet’s nest she’d stirred up. “About eight o’clock, then?”

“I will be there at the stroke of eight.” He turned his smile onto Phoebe. “Mrs. Carter-Holmes, it has been a pleasure.”

“Oh, my pleasure entirely, Dr. Prestwick,” Phoebe gushed.

Cecily watched him raise Phoebe’s hand to his lips, then flinched inwardly as he reached for her own fingers. “Until Saturday, madam,” he said softly.

Afterward she could feel the imprint of his lips during the entire meal at Dolly’s. It disturbed her so much she barely heard half of Phoebe’s chatter.

Seated at a corner table in the pleasantly cluttered tearoom, she watched the flames reflect on the huge copper urn in the fireplace and thought about her encounter with the charming Dr. Prestwick.

She wondered if James would approve of him, and then wondered why she had even considered the question. James was dead, and what opinions he might have held should matter no more. Yet they did. And somehow she didn’t think that James would approve at all.

“Where are you woolgathering now, Cecily?” Phoebe said sharply, breaking into her thoughts. “I’ve asked you three times for your opinion, and all you have done is stare right through me.”

“I’m so sorry,” Cecily said hastily. “I’m afraid my mind is occupied with the preparations for the wedding on Saturday. There are so many details to take care of. I do hope I haven’t forgotten something.”

“Well, that is what I wanted to discuss. I can’t decide whether to wear the rose-pink outfit I wore at Ascot the last season I was there, or the champagne silk I wore for the Royal Tea Party. Of course, I shall freeze in either one, but one must make sacrifices to look one’s best, and I shall have my ermine cape of course.”

“I’m sure either one will look utterly enchanting,” Cecily said sincerely. “You still have such a wonderful figure. You look marvelous in anything.”

Phoebe fanned herself with the menu. “Well, thank you, my dear. That makes me feel a great deal better. One tries, of course, but sometimes it’s a little difficult to look fashionable when styles are changing so rapidly. Do you know, I heard that in parts of Europe women are actually socializing outside their homes without their corsets? Can you imagine? Whatever next!”

“I think it would be most liberating,” Cecily said with feeling. She could feel the bones of her corset digging into her ribs as it was. It would be heaven not to have to struggle with the wretched things.

“Gracious, Cecily,” Phoebe said, sounding shocked. “Surely you don’t condone such scandalous goings-on? It is all the influence of these rich American women, turning the heads of the aristocracy with their brazen, outlandish ways. Have you any idea how many of our British lords have married Americans? Why, this very month I heard that Gerry
Lowther is marrying that Alice Blight he’s been seen with so often. She comes from Philadelphia, as so many of them do. He’s a nephew of the Earl of Lonsdale, you know….”

She went prattling on, while Cecily tried to look interested, until finally Phoebe ran out of gossip. Taking advantage of her friend’s pause for breath, Cecily dabbed at her mouth with her serviette and laid it on the table.

“I really must be off, Phoebe, I’m afraid. There is something that needs my attention at the hotel this afternoon.”

Phoebe nodded her understanding. “Yes, I must get back, too. Poor Algie will be wondering where I am.”

Poor Algie was most likely enjoying the respite, Cecily thought, and was immediately ashamed of her ignoble thought. To make up for it, she insisted on paying the bill, smiling at Phoebe’s half-hearted protest.

Arriving back at the hotel, Cecily made straight for Baxter’s office. She found him scrunched over his desk, busily adding up a long row of figures. He rose and buttoned his jacket as she entered the neatly arranged room.

“Finish what you were doing,” she said, seating herself in a chair, but he remained standing while he completed the page. She waited until he had scribbled down the total at the foot of the ledger, then said brightly, “Are we paying our way or do we have to sell the silver?”

He frowned at her. “We are barely keeping our heads above water, madam, which is the best we can expect this time of year.”

“Yes, I suppose.” She sighed. “Thanks to my sharp-tongued bank manager, we shall have to manage as best we can. Another three months until the season begins. I suppose we are lucky to have the business that we do.”

“Very fortunate, I would say, madam.”

She looked up at him, trying to gauge his mood. “I met Dr. Prestwick in the High Street today.” She wasn’t sure why she had mentioned it, but she saw his face darken. “I was with Phoebe,” she added, as if that made a difference.

“Yes, madam?”

“Yes, well, I invited him to the ball on Saturday.”

“I see.”

She wondered if he did. Deciding not to pursue the matter, she added lamely, “I just thought you should know, in case you wondered what he was doing there.”

“Undoubtedly the question would have occurred to me.”

He looked even more forbidding, and feeling decidedly vulnerable, Cecily rose to her feet. “Baxter, I have a favor to ask of you.”

“Yes, madam?”

“I want to take a look at the card rooms. I’d appreciate it if you would accompany me.”

He seemed to go very still, as if bracing for the worst. “Is there a pressing reason for the inspection, madam?”

“As a matter of fact, yes, there is.” She quickly explained about Gertie recognizing the murder victim. “Imagine, Baxter, the man was actually here in this hotel, apparently just a few hours before he was killed. I’m afraid we can no longer ignore the facts. Someone has been using the card rooms for more than mere gambling.”

“I hesitate to point this out, madam, but as I have said many times before, you are bound to attract this corrupt element if you insist on running a gambling establishment on the premises. A woman of your standing simply cannot afford such recklessness. You are putting your reputation at great risk.”

“As you have indeed mentioned before, Baxter, to the point of becoming a bore. As I have also told you, many times, I merely rent the rooms to respected clients. What they choose to do in those rooms is not my affair. As long as they are not interfering with the rest of my guests, or the running of this hotel, I have no quarrel with the way they choose to spend their evenings.”

“If I may say so, madam, by deliberately ignoring the situation, you are sanctioning the gambling, and whatever the consequences might be.”

“Piffle!” For once Cecily’s even temper eluded her. Baxter was being particularly stubborn, and somehow she knew that it had more to do with her inviting the doctor to the ball than his concern for her good name.

She could feel her cheeks grow hot as she defended her
position. “Might I remind you, Baxter, that as owner of this hotel, I decide what is or isn’t appropriate. Until this last weekend, we have had not one moment of trouble with the card rooms. I would also point out that the hotel makes more money in one night from those rooms than the guest suites make in an entire week.”

“I am fully aware of that, madam, but the point remains—”

“The point, Baxter, is that the Pennyfoot does a great deal of its business because of those card rooms and the privacy afforded the guests. We are in a unique position here, secluded as we are on the coast; yet so close to London. We must take advantage of it as best we can. The hotel badly needs the money, as you yourself pointed out not five minutes ago.”

“I can’t argue with that, madam. Regrettably.”

Her anger vanished as suddenly as it had risen. “I don’t want to argue with you at all, Baxter. As long as I’m not actually participating in the gambling, I really see no harm in it at all. Now, please, I need your cooperation in this if we are to solve this case before the inspector comes breathing down our necks. Sooner or later he is bound to find out what we know, and then I shall be helpless to do anything.”

He looked at her, and she knew very well that it was on the tip of his tongue to tell her he would welcome that state of affairs.

Instead he said quietly, “I’m afraid we are dealing with some very dangerous people. People who have already murdered one of their own, and who would very likely think nothing of eliminating anyone who threatened their enterprise.”