Page 23 of Undercover with the Heiress
‘Oh.’ She deflated a little. ‘I thought I had done some proper sleuthing. But it seems you know everything.’
‘I just weighed the information at hand and made a logical deduction. The other men reside permanently in London. Mr Vincent does not.’
‘And I suppose you won’t be at all surprised to know that last night he dined with one of the names from your list. A Mr Redgrave.’
Phineas spun so fast that Rosanna stumbled. He wasn’t accustomed to having a lady on his elbow, and he had to grab her arm to catch her before she fell. ‘The crooked solicitor is at the hotel? Did Collins and Sanders join them? Are they meeting again? Have they requested a private dining room, or will they be in the main area?’
‘Why don’t you come and see for yourself?’ Rosanna asked as she straightened.
He shoved his hands into his pockets. ‘Because I’m supposed to return to my desk in an hour. And I don’t undertake field investigations. Not anymore.’
‘Not anymore? That’s an interesting titbit.’
Typical. His directions on jam, she completely ignored. Butnowshe listened to him. She played at adjusting his collar and smoothed his lapels. ‘Mr Babbage, you are a recently married man who has not gone away for his honeymoon. You have a wife with a divine new dress, and an entire roomful of clerks who are aware that she misses you terribly. I think it would be suspicious if youdidreturn to your employment this afternoon.’
Phineas’s temples pumped with energy at the scenario Rosanna spun to life. And she was right. If he was properly married to her and she had turned up at his workplace dressed as she was to beg a lunch with him, he would whisk her home for a completely different type of meal. He wouldn’t care a jot for the lecture he’d receive the following day.
‘I’ve seen your ledgers.’ While she rubbed an imaginary smudge from his coat, he stole another sweet breath of her. ‘Would you like to see mine?’
Lawrence Hempel may have staggered a bit on landing, but after an awkward lunge into the world, he had found his feet. The Aster was nowhere on the scale of other more well-known hotels like the Langham, but it offered something they didn’t—boutique exclusivity, discrete entrances, exorbitant prices, and an attentive owner and manager who could pre-empt everycomfort and set every trend. Hempel understood the rules concerning old and new money in London society, but more than that, he was an expert navigator of the grey area in between. He made the upper classes feel at ease, as if they were visiting a dear friend, yet he protected his employees with the vehemence of a mother hen. He paid them in line with union requests, plus a shilling per week more. He lived his life in comfort but was never ostentatious. His staff loved him, the guests respected him, and yet he spent time with neither outside these walls. His wife, family, and a few well-chosen friends were his world.
Which was why Phineas had deliberately baited him and kept him at a distance. Friendship with a man like Lawrence would only lead to disaster.
Rosanna stepped into the hotel foyer. As she crossed the tiled entrance with the nameASTERboldly inlaid in a black and white mosaic, her posture shifted from stiff to comfortable. She nodded at an acquaintance on the staff and greeted an impoverished but aristocratic guest with a broad smile and a slight curtsy. Like her father, Rosanna understood the veneer between living in opulence and servicing its facade. Her family was likely richer than many of the clientele, yet she knew how to make them feel that their fortunes were reversed.
Stepping behind the front desk, she glanced at Phineas and beckoned him over with a scowl. As he sidled in beside her, she opened the reservations book and ran a gloved finger down the columns. Her eyes darted across them rapidly, and he followed the delicate curve and snip of the slight upturn to her nose, observing the plump swell of her lips as she mumbled names to herself. She wasn’t pretty in any conventional sense—Rosanna was too full of life to be anything so mundane. In London society, pale skin, visible veins, and fragility were lauded, whereas Rosanna radiated strength and sunshine. Theslight bunch of muscles at her dress sleeve, along with the light dusting of colour and the spray of freckles across her nose, spoke of a busy life pursuing something other than ornamentation.
‘It was here. Right here.’ She turned another page in slight frustration, then paused. ‘There. That’s it. Mr Redgrave and his wife, room 204. Oh, here they come!’
Mr Redgrave, a man in his mid-fifties, yet carrying the air of someone twenty years younger, stepped into the foyer, accompanied by a woman of maybe thirty years of age. The pair nodded at the desk, then headed for the stairs.
‘His wife will likely know secrets,’ Rosanna whispered. ‘Information. She might let something slip or have something incriminating in her possession. I could speak with her. She might—’
‘That’s not his wife.’ Phineas followed the bustle’s sway as the pair ascended the stairs and the gathered swathe of fabric disappeared.
‘I am not mistaken.’ She flipped a few pages of the hotel’s guest register and tapped at another entry for a few weeks before. ‘There they are again, Mr and Mrs Redgrave, in the second-best suite.’
‘Redgrave’s wife is fifteen years his senior. She was a widow, and he flattered his way into her fortune. I am telling you, that is not his wife.’
Rosanna’s brow creased. She flipped through the pages of the book, as if searching for evidence to prove him wrong.
‘Good job, Hempel. This is even better. It’s his mistress.’ Phineas couldn’t help but grin. ‘Is there any chance, Mrs Babbage, that you would like to re-enter society?’
Chapter Ten
She was officially a spy.
Practically a spy.
Kind of like a spy. Doing things very much akin to the type of things that a spy might do.
Just because it was something she had undertaken a dozen times before didn’t make it any less spy-esque.
Because today, she had a purpose beyond gossip and making small talk with the guests. She would ask questions in the hopes of finding answers within the answers. Layers of meaning. Nuance.
Phineas had been very specific with his instructions.Find out how he’s spending money on her. Does she have her own accommodations? How often do they travel? Any new jewellery, special gifts, has he been visiting a little less than she’d expect? Then we’ll know if what they’re up to is making money. Are they here for a short stay or for longer? Who else does he meet with? That should give us a place to start.
Mother had never liked to mingle with the guests, but Rosanna had relished the invitations at every opportunity. Whenyounger, she’d convinced her father to allow her to accompany him to work. She had always chosen her best dress, kept her shoes clean on the journey across town, and scrutinised her nails in the hopes that the guests would ask her to join them in the dining room. She’d been something of a little doll at their tables—the trussed-up daughter of the man who made their London stays so comfortable. She could recite short poems, tell innocent jokes, and would often be invited for tea or a cup of hot chocolate so that she could revive stale conversation between people who’d been in one another’s company for too long.
