Page 20 of Evil at the Essex House
“I could,” I said, and opened my door, since it seemed obvious by this point that he wasn’t going to come around and do it, “but I won’t. Are you quite certain you don’t want to come up?”
“As I said,” Crispin said, “I’ve already seen Kit. And he must be simply slavering to hear every detail about your time with theGraf. You go on up.”
While he went off to meet the lovely Lady Laetitia, I presumed.
I nodded. “Thanks for the lift, St George. And while it was unnecessary, I appreciate the rescue, as well.”
“Any time, Darling. Have a good evening.”
“You too,” I told him, and shut the door to the Hispano-Suiza. “Safe home, St George.”
“Thank you, Darling. I’ll give Tidwell your love, shall I?”
Tidwell the butler was the very best part of Sutherland Hall, if you asked me. I nodded. “Please do. No need to remember me to your father, however.”
“No, Darling.” His lips curved. “He’s not likely to forget.”
He probably wasn’t. “Drive carefully,” I told him. “And if something happens and you can’t get out of London and you don’t want to go to Sutherland House,” and he couldn’t spend the night with Lady Laetitia, although it was difficult to imagine an eventuality where that wouldn’t be an option, “come back here and we’ll put you up for the night.”
“Thank you, Darling. I’ll see you next time, shall I?”
He didn’t wait for my response, just put the H6 in gear and rolled off down the road. I waited for him—for the car—to vanish from sight, and then I went into the lobby and greeted Evans.
ChapterFive
Christopher was sittingon the Chesterfield with a cocktail when I walked into the flat.
He was also sitting with Tom Gardiner, who was ensconced in an armchair with a drink of his own. It looked like straight bourbon or brandy, unlike Christopher’s sparkling concoction. When I showed up in the doorway to the foyer, they both looked up at me. Christopher had a slight flush across his cheekbones that might be guilt because of Crispin, or embarrassment because I had interrupted something, while Tom gave me a bland smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.
“Philippa,” he said. “You look lovely.”
I looked down at myself. “You don’t think I look like a Bramley?”
Christopher sighed. “Let it go, Pippa.” To Tom he added, “Crispin once told her the dress made her look tart and crisp and edible. She took it as a slight and has been telling me he compared her to an apple ever since.”
Tom’s lips curved. “No, Philippa. You look nothing like a Bramley, and I doubt Lord St George was telling you that you did.”
“Speaking of Crispin—” I said, and turned to Christopher.
The flush went immediately more guilty, although he tried to hide it behind an insouciant front. “He found you, then?”
“I wasn’t exactly hard to find,” I said. “All he had to do was loiter outside the Savoy and wait for me to come out. And then he had the nerve to almost take me out at the knees when he swept up behind me. I think the H6 missed me by two or three inches, no more.”
“That was careless of him,” Tom commented. “I would have expected better.”
I huffed. “I wouldn’t. It’s exactly the kind of thing he would do. I’m just surprised I’m not limping.”
I turned back to Christopher. “Why on earth would you drag him all the way up here from Wiltshire, Christopher? If you wanted someone to spy on me, couldn’t you have done it yourself?”
“You told me not to,” Christopher said.
“That was because I didn’t want anyone to! It certainly wasn’t a suggestion that you should induce St George to make the drive to London so that he could do it instead!”
“I didn’t,” Christopher protested. “I simply phoned him and let him know about the invitation to supper. I didn’t know that he was going to drive to London until I came back home after dropping you off and he was waiting outside.”
“You didn’t have to tell him where I was! Why didn’t you tell him not to bother?”
“Have you ever told Crispin not to bother when there’s something he wants to do, Pippa?” He gave me a look. “He’s spoilt, which you very well know. And he doesn’t like to be told what to do or not to do. In fact, if you tell him what to do, he frequently does the opposite, just to spite you. If he wanted a look at theGraf, I certainly wasn’t going to be able to stop him.”
