Page 5 of Evil at the Essex House
I shook off my misgivings, since there was nothing whatsoever I could do about them. “Are you ready to go home?”
“I suppose we’d better,” Christopher said with a glance at the window. “Tea-time is over. And so is the excitement, it seems.”
If the excitement had been theGraffrom and of Natterdorff, then yes. The excitement was definitely over.
“We’ll have to see whether he contacts me with an invitation,” I said, as Christopher pulled my chair out and helped me up.
He shot me a glance from under his eyelashes. “Will you go, if he does?”
I shot one back. “Is there any reason I shouldn’t go, if he does?”
“Not unless you don’t want to,” Christopher said and offered me his arm. I took it and headed for the lobby and the street outside.
ChapterTwo
As I had toldtheGraf von und zuNatterdorff, Christopher and I shared a service flat in the Essex House Mansions. When we entered the lobby, Evans the commissionaire was waiting.
“Miss Darling.” He inclined his head. “Mr. Astley.”
“Evans.” He looked expectant, and I tilted my head. “Is something going on? Did someone stop by? No…” My eyes narrowed, “—don’t tell me. Is Lord St George upstairs, waiting? Did he talk you into letting him into our flat while we were out?”
“No, Miss Darling,” Evans said, while Christopher chuckled. “This arrived for you, Mr. Astley.”
He handed Christopher a note. The latter took one look at the handwriting and turned pink.
I hid a smile and turned my attention back to the doorman. “So no one is upstairs, Evans?”
“No, Miss Darling.”
Next to me, Christopher opened the note. It hadn’t been tucked inside an envelope, merely folded and sealed, and as he unfolded the paper, I slanted my eyes that way.
It wasn’t a long note, just a line and a half of script I couldn’t make out, but with a rather informal signature that I could:Tom.
“If you have to leave…” I told Christopher, who gave me a distracted look before dropping his eyes to the note and skimming it again.
Behind us, the door to the street opened, letting in the sounds of early evening in London before the door shut again. “Pardon me, Miss. Here you are, guv’nor.”
A slim figure in a natty gray suit, a lad no more than fifteen, slipped past me to hand Evans another missive. “Telegram for Miss Florence Skl…” He peered down at it. “Shhh…”
“Schlomsky,” I said. “Miss Florence Schlomsky.”
He glanced at me. “Right you are, Miss Schlomsky.”
“No,I’mnot Miss Schlomsky. The telegram is for Miss Schlomsky.”
He rolled his eyes. “Yes, Miss. See you later, guv.”
He slid past in the opposite direction and was gone. The door shut behind him while Evans stared at the telegram. Christopher was still peering down at his own note, too, seemingly deep in thought.
I turned back to Evans. “Would you like for me to take that upstairs to Miss Schlomsky? I’m going that way anyway.”
Evans hesitated before handing it over. “If you wouldn’t mind, Miss Darling. That way Miss Schlomsky won’t have to wait for it. I’m not supposed to leave the lobby in the middle of a shift.”
No, of course he wasn’t. I took the thin envelope between two fingers and flicked my cousin a glance. “Coming, Christopher?”
“As a matter of fact, Pippa—” He shot me a look back, distracted. “I think I’d better respond to this as soon as possible.”
I tilted my head. “And you don’t want to come upstairs where we have pens and paper and penny stamps?”
