Page 30 of Murder at the Mayfair Hotel
“Leave her be,” Harmony scolded.
Frank plucked the empty teacup from Goliath’s fingers. “Just because no one loves you, Goliath, there’s no need to be jealous of those of us with paramours.”
“Those of us?” Goliath snorted. “I don’t see women lining up outside the hotel to get a look at your ugly mug.”
Frank placed the teacups down with a loud clatter. “Nor yours.”
Edith opened the door to go, but I laid a hand on her arm. She jumped. “Speaking of Mrs. Kettering,” I said gently, “remember not to breathe a word of my investigation to her. Or to anyone.”
“I won’t, and certainly not to that dragon.” Edith put more spirit into the word than she had the rest of her words combined.
“That was unexpected,” Harmony said with a laugh after Edith departed.
Victor threw one of his knives in the air and caught it. “Calling someone a dragon seems normal to me. From the way Mrs. Kettering talks to you girls, I’m surprised someone hasn’t poisonedher. I’d wager you’ve dreamed about it on more than one occasion.”
“You are a strange man.” She picked up the tray and shoved it into his chest, choosing the moment between him catching the knife and tossing it again. “Take this back to the kitchen. Thisgirlhas finished for the day.”
Victor steadied the tray as Harmony marched out of the parlor. “What’d I say to deserve that?”
* * *
I spottedMr. Hookly while I sat in one of the chairs in the foyer, pretending to read a book. He emerged from the lift and headed for the smoking room. I followed five minutes later, the book tucked under my arm.
There were only three gentlemen in the smoking room and all looked up upon my entry. The two elderly smokers held cigars while the third, Mr. Hookly, stood side-on to the fireplace, a slender cigarette dangling between his fingers. One of the cigar smokers gave me such a look of disgust that I wanted to run from the room. The second shook his head, as if my presence saddened him. Only Mr. Hookly welcomed me.
“May I try one of those?” I asked, setting my book on the mantelpiece and pointing to his cigarette.
“Of course.” He reached inside his jacket and pulled out a silver case.
I removed one of the cigarettes and held it between thumb and forefinger while he lit it for me. He watched, smiling, as I placed it between my lips.
“You’re supposed to inhale,” he said, his smile widening.
I inhaled and promptly coughed as the smoke hit the back of my throat.
Mr. Hookly poured a sherry from the decanter on the sideboard and handed the glass to me. I gratefully sipped and the coughing eased.
“First time?” he asked.
“How can you tell?”
He chuckled. “You’re either very brave or very foolish.” He glanced pointedly at the two older gentlemen mumbling around the cigars plugged into their mouths. Considering the only women who smoked were prostitutes or some of the more extreme activists for the women’s emancipation movement, it wasn’t surprising they looked upon me as an aberration. To them, my presence in their masculine domain was either an act of defiance or promiscuity.
I wondered what Mr. Hookly thought of me. From his smiles, I gathered he realized I was neither and that smoking was a new endeavor. Considering my second inhalation produced another round of coughs, it was an easy conclusion to draw.
“So which is it, Miss…?”
“Fox.” I held out my hand and he shook it, introducing himself as Mr. Hookly. “Perhaps I’m a brave fool,” I said. “Or simply adventurous.”
He acknowledged this with a shallow bow. “So now that we’ve established why you’re in the smoking room, tell me what brings you to The Mayfair. You don’t look like their typical guest.”
“Don’t I? And what does a typical guest of The Mayfair Hotel look like?”
He nodded at the gentlemen. “Older.”
“You’re not old.”
He was indeed not. I gauged him to be in his middle to late thirties going by the dashes of gray specks in his sideburns. He was also handsome, but not in an overt way. He wasn’t a man that women would gush over, but his features were pleasingly arranged and there was an air of refinement about him and in the way in which he held my gaze. This man did not lack confidence.
