Page 56 of Evil at the Essex House
He shot me a look over his shoulder, and yes, his cheeks were pink and his eyes were dancing. “You realize they’re suspicious of us, Pippa?”
“Suspicious?” I repeated, and for a moment the word, and the concept, didn’t make any sense. Then— “Christopher!” I hurried so I could look up at him. “They suspect us? How?”
“We must sound guilty as hell,” Christopher said with another gurgle of laughter. He stabbed the button to summon the lift and turned back to me. “It makes sense if you think about it. We knew Flossie, and they have only our word for it that we were on friendly terms with her. We keep turning up with no warning, like bad pennies. Your excuse of having dinner with someone sounds extremely transparent, and so does my excuse of escorting you.”
“But it’s true!”
He smirked. “I know it is, Pippa. But then we tell them that we’re familiar with the church from the ransom note, and we advise them on the safest way to drop off the money. And we mention that Crispin—the person we told them was the last to see Flossie before she was kidnapped—is on his way back to Town.” He shook his head. “Truly, it’s difficult to blame them. What are they supposed to think?”
“Not that we have their daughter stashed in our flat,” I said, offended, as the lift arrived on our floor and Christopher pulled the grille aside. “That’s appalling. We’d never!”
“Of course we’d never.” He stepped into the lift behind me and slid the grille closed again. “But they don’t know that. They don’t knowus. For all they know, we’re a pair of evil knaves who have kidnapped their daughter and are after their money, and everything we’ve done so far has been an attempt to get close to them to see whether they suspect us.”
Well, yes. But— “If I had kidnapped Flossie Schlomsky, I would never be so stupid as to draw attention to myself,” I said crossly. “Certainly not by sidling up to her parents, for God’s sake!”
“Of course not.” His lips twitched.
I crossed my arms over my chest and stuck my bottom lip out. “I wouldn’t! I’d stay far away from them and ensure that they had no idea who I was. I would never offer to help out!”
“Naturally.” He smirked.
The lift arrived on the ground floor, and Christopher got busy with the grille again. “You can see how it looks, though,” he said as he held the door open for me. “From their point of view, we look quite suspicious.”
“I’m sure we do. That’s no excuse for letting us know that they think so.” I sniffed. “How very uncouth.”
“Well, they’re American,” Christopher said, as if that explained it. “It’s the Wild West on the other side of the pond, isn’t it?”
“Is it? I rather thought it was mostly civilized these days. Apart from the jazz and the gangsters and all that.”
“Perhaps it is,” Christopher said, and put a hand on my back. “Who knows, really? There’s His Grace, ready and waiting for you.”
I looked around and spotted Wolfgang standing a few feet from the entrance to the restaurant, scanning the lobby and the area just outside the doors. He wouldn’t have expected us to come from the direction of the lift, and that gave me a moment to admire his form, tall and handsome in black tie, while he was unaware that I was staring.
“He really is fabulously good-looking,” I said, “isn’t he?”
“I wouldn’t kick him out of bed,” Christopher answered with a shrug, and I lost my breath at the audacity.
“Christopher!”
He shot me an unrepentant look. “He doesn’t swing my way, Pippa. But if he did…”
“You just like a pretty face,” I told him, half accusing and half amused.
“Who doesn’t?” Christopher asked with a shrug. He nudged me forward. “Go on, then. While you’re having supper, I’m going to check in on Tom one more time, just in case he has made it back to Town by now, and then I’ll fetch Crispin and come back for you.”
“I thought we agreed that it wasn’t a certainty he’d show up,” I said.
Christopher agreed that we had, indeed, agreed on that. But— “There was never a chance that he wouldn’t be here, Pippa. Surely you knew that? As soon as you told him what’s taking place tonight, it was a sure bet that he’d come.” He inclined his head to Wolfgang. “Grafvon Natterdorff. Good evening.”
“HerrAstley.” Wolfgang made a polite little bow from the waist before his eyes moved on to me. Like last time, they were a fabulously dark blue. “FreuleinDarling.”
He snatched my hand and hovered his lips above it for a little longer than strictly necessary. I could feel his breath moisten my skin before he deposited a kiss on the back of it and gave it back to me. His eyes smoldered. “You look beautiful.”
I simpered. “Thank you.”
“That’s a lovely dress. Very becoming.” He offered his arm. “Shall we?”
I put my hand upon it. “Please. I’ll see you later, Christopher.”
