Page 87 of Murder at the Mayfair Hotel
He remained silent.
“Mr. Armitage, if you won’t answer, I’ll tell your mother that you just used a vulgar word in front of a lady.”
“I thought you were the silverware thief.”
I burst out laughing.
He smiled too, but with a measure of chagrin in the lopsided tilt of his lips. “I thought you were sneaking about in the sitting room. In hindsight, of course you couldn’t have been the thief. You didn’t arrive until after the thefts started.”
“Why would I steal from my own uncle?”
“I thought you liked to stir up trouble.”
I laughed again. “This is rich. You’ve been punishingmefor accusing you when all this time, you suspected me of being a thief.”
“First of all, I’m notpunishingyou. Any guilt you feel is entirely of your own making. And perhaps my mother’s.”
“And your father’s. You have very loyal parents.”
“Second of all, I never actually accused you. Thirdly, you accused me ofmurder, Miss Fox. I merely thought you were a troublemaker. And finally, I lost my job thanks to your wild theory.”
“It might have been wild, but at least it wasn’t stupid.”
He shook his head and huffed out a breath. I wasn’t quite sure if he was amused or exasperated. Perhaps both.
The train journey followed by the hackney ride to the hotel felt long, with many awkward silences between us. Our easy banter turned polite and dull; he asked me about Cambridge and I asked him about London. We avoided sensitive topics of his childhood, my family, and where he was going to work next.
I was so relieved to see the hotel that I alighted from the carriage without waiting for Frank to open the door.
“Mr. Armitage!” the doorman said. “What’re you doing here, sir? And with Miss Fox, too…” His curious gaze shifted from me to Mr. Armitage and back again.
I simply smiled.
Mr. Armitage placed a finger to his lips. “Don’t tell anyone. I came to see my uncle.”
“And I wish to see mine,” I said—and meant it. If Uncle Ronald was in a good mood because plans for the ball were going well, I would ask him again to reconsider hiring Mr. Armitage.
“Why do you need to see Sir Ronald?” Mr. Armitage asked as we entered the foyer. “If it’s because of me, I meant it the other day. I won’t accept my old position back, even if he begs me.”
“Oh,” I said on a breath. “Isn’t it wonderful?”
I turned around to take in all of the decorations in the foyer. A half dozen potted large ferns added some greenery, while garlands of fresh flowers and leaves brightened up the front of the counters and above doorways. A closer inspection revealed a string of small lightbulbs woven through each of the garlands. It would look marvelous as darkness fell.
“Isn’t it wonderful, Mr. Armitage?” I said again.
But he’d moved away. He was talking with Mr. Hobart near the entrance to the vestibule. I went to join them but was waylaid by Goliath.
“Is Mr. Armitage back permanently?” he asked.
“It’s just a brief visit,” I said. “Have you seen Mrs. Kettering? Is she in her office?”
“I think so.”
“It doesn’t look terribly busy here anymore.” There were several gentlemen chatting to one another but few ladies. “Has everyone arrived who is going to stay overnight for the ball?”
“Most. The women have retired to their rooms to get ready.” He shook his head. “I don’t know why it takes you ladies so long to put on a frock.”
Mr. Armitage crossed the foyer and joined us. “Goliath, go and help Mr. Hobart. He needs someone tall in the dining room.”
