Page 24 of Lady Scandal
Simon had been sure of that, too, but the events of the past week were giving him cause to doubt. “She declared she could never work for me. I offered to put her under Mrs. Carte’s supervision, but she wasn’t having that, either. I then pointed out that her only other choice was to resign, and as you might guess, that suggestion did not serve to improve her opinion of me.”
“Ultimatums,” Max said gravely, “are not among Delia’s favorite things.”
“Yes, I realized that when she declared I’d never force her to resign, referred to me in a way that put my mother’s honor in doubt, and stormed out of my office.”
“You were lucky,” Max assured him. “Remind me to tell you about the time I read her diary.”
Diverted by this rather unsavory admission, he eyed Max with doubt. “You read her diary?”
“What can I say? I was only twelve at the time. Delia’s revenge was to shred the essay I’d just completed for my tutor, which had taken me a week to compose. She also hid my best cricket bat in the attics and put itching powder in my socks.”
From what Simon could see, the years hadn’t changed her much. “I suspect she’d adore exacting similar revenge upon me.”
“For your sake, I hope not. As you have seen, my cousin’s got a bit of a temper.”
“Thank you for the reminder,” he replied as Mr. Wells set his third cocktail before him, “but what I’m waiting for is some of that insight you promised me.”
“The most useful thing I can say is to quote the old proverb that one always catches more flies with honey than with vinegar.”
Simon stared, appalled at the idea.
The duke grinned. “You look as if I’ve just suggested a visit to the dentist.”
“Forgive me,” Simon said at once. “It’s just that flattery is not my strongest talent. And even if it were, I daresay your cousin is far too clever to be taken in by such a tactic—”
“No, no, you misunderstand me. I’m not suggesting you attempt to charm Delia. As you’ve already pointed out, it wouldn’t fool her for a moment. No, in this scenario, Delia needs to be the honey. If you can gain her support, she can convince others to accept the policies you’ve introduced. She might even be able to get the duchess to pay her bill.”
“Gain her support?” he echoed in disbelief. “Haven’t you heard a word I’ve said? She despises me. How on earth can I gain her support when she feels that I’m undermining Ritz and that everything I’m doing will bring the hotel to ruin?”
“The loyalty to Ritz runs deep around here. That is especially true in Delia’s case. They are close friends. Nonetheless, if you can get her on your side, she can be of great assistance to you. She knows a great many people, and she’s got a persuasive way about her when she chooses. Most of the scrapes I got into as a boy were at her instigation.”
That was no surprise to Simon, but before he could think of a more tactful reply, another voice entered the conversation.
“Simon, what the devil are you doing in a bar? The last time I saw that was in Cape Town. About fourteen years ago, as I recall.”
Simon looked up to find Devlin standing behind the duke’s chair, a look of amused disbelief on his dark, rakish face.
“I had to find something to occupy my time waiting for you,” Simon countered. “You’re late, as usual.”
He stood up, a move that brought the duke to his feet as well, but when Westbourne turned in Devlin’s direction, Simon saw the amusement inexplicably vanish from his old friend’s face and a wooden expression take its place.
“Duke,” Devlin greeted the other man with a stiff, barely perceptible nod of acknowledgment.
“You two know each other?” Simon asked, surprised by the sudden, unmistakable tension in the air.
“Not well, I’m afraid,” the duke answered, “but we have met. Mr. Sharpe,” he added. “Pleasure to see you again.”
“Is it?” Devlin’s smile was back, a mocking curve that Simon knew from long acquaintance could mean trouble. “Afraid I can’t say the same.”
An offensive remark, but oddly, the duke did not seem offended. “Quite understandable,” he replied, “given the circumstances. And now,” he added, turning to Simon, “I must be off. It won’t do if I’m late to dinner. Good evening, gentlemen.”
With a nod to both of them, the duke departed, and Simon turned to Devlin, frowning in puzzlement. “What was that all about?”
“Nothing.” Devlin took the chair vacated by the duke. “Just a bit of ancient history.”
“Between you and Westbourne?” Simon resumed his own seat. “I wasn’t aware you two had ever met.”
“Only once. When I was spared from making the worst mistake of my life.”
