Page 46 of Murder at the Dinner Party
“You’re never short of dance partners either, Flossy. It will be the same next year. You won’t suddenly become a wallflower.”
She sighed again and picked up her spoon.
Finally, with his pudding finished, Floyd joined the conversation. “Against my better judgement, I’m going to voice an opinion. The maharaja’s son failed to notice you flirting with him, didn’t he?”
Flossy pouted. “I don’t want to talk about him.”
Ah, now I understood the source of her melancholy. It wasn’t Miss Hessing’s pending nuptials. It was the rejection from Flossy’s current object of desire.
I squeezed her hand. “Perhaps it’s for the best. I have it on good authority that he will be returning to India after his studies, and I couldn’t bear it if you moved away.”
“I suppose,” she said on a sigh. “But it would have been nice to reject him, instead of being ignored.”
“Take it as a compliment,” Floyd said. When we both frowned at him, he added, “His father has arranged a marriage for him back in India, so he can’t marry you or any other girl, even if he wanted to. The only women he sees here are his mistresses and he has a lot of them, none of whom are the sort of girl he can be seen with in public. The fact he ignored you means he thinks you’re above that and he respects you enough not to want to sully your reputation.”
The effect of his words on Flossy was instant. She brightened, and with a toss of her curls, she was once again her usual unencumbered self. She tucked into her strawberries as if she were ravenous.
I mouthed “well done” to Floyd. He merely shrugged, which was as good a sign as any that he spoke the truth and hadn’t made up the story about the mistresses simply to cheer up his sister.
“Speaking of mistresses,” I said.
Floyd put up his hands. “I haven’t got one at the moment, I swear.”
“I wasn’t referring to you. I’m trying to solve an old murder case that the police shelved after the main suspect went missing. The victim, the family’s maid, was his mistress. My investigation uncovered some letters today that I think were written by him to his mother, although he doesn’t address her as Mother and the letters are all signed ‘Oblitus.’ We think it’s Latin.”
“‘We?’” Floyd echoed. “Tell me you haven’t teamed up with Armitage again.”
“Uncle Ronald doesn’t mind,” I said as I searched the restaurant for him. Spotting him well out of earshot, I felt comfortable to add, “He knows I work better with Harry. We make an excellent team.”
“My father hasn’t seen the two of you together. I have. I know there’s mutual affection between you.”
“The only mutual affection we have is for investigating. We’ll never be anything more than friends and colleagues, so stop being overbearing. It makes me dislike you.”
“As long as you understand he’s not suitable.”
It wasn’t what I said or meant, but I didn’t correct him. “Are you able to translate Oblitus?”
“It means forgotten or the forgotten one. If your suspect fled to escape capture years ago, the nickname fits.” He stood and pushed in his chair. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a party to attend where some very unsuitable ladies will enjoy my attention.”
Flossy made a scoffing noise as she watched him leave. “Why can men have unsuitable liaisons and women can’t?”
“That is one of the greatest conundrums of our time.”
* * *
With my parasolunder my arm and a wide-brimmed hat on my head, I was about to leave the hotel the following morning when Mr. Hobart intercepted me. “I received a telephone call from Harry,” he said. “He wanted me to tell you that he won’t be in his office until later.”
That scuttled my plan to discuss my next steps in the investigation with him. Perhaps it was for the best; I was becoming too reliant on him. I needed to work alone sometimes, to remind myself that I was capable.
My uncle stepped out of the lift. He smiled at Mr. Hobart and me as he passed, then, when Mr. Hobart wasn’t looking, he jerked his head at the manager, urging me to ask some questions.
I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to gently probe. “I heard the position of manager is about to be filled at the Carlton.”
“I heard that too,” Mr. Hobart said.
“Do you know who’s taking the role?”
“The Carlton doesn’t confide in me, Miss Fox.” He smiled, but it wasn’t the most convincing one he’d ever given.
