Thinking quickly, she subsided back against the seat and gave Charlie a rueful smile.“Oh fine, you win.We’ll try White’s.Only, they’ll never let me in there.Gentlemen only.”
Eagerness replaced the discomfort in Charlie’s eyes.“I can ask the butler to let me deliver a message to him—they let runners and footmen in for errands of that sort.If Thornecliff is there, they’ll take me to him, and I’ll get him to come out and speak to you.”
“Oh Charlie, that’s a wonderful idea!I’ll wait here for you.”Lucy clasped her hands together, hoping she wasn’t overdoing it.But Charlie was too relieved to have a job to do that didn’t involve allowing Lucy to enter The Grand Hotel; he hurried off without more discussion, a spring in his step.
Lucy hesitated only a moment before alighting from the carriage and hastening up the stairs to the imposing front door of The Grand.A bellman in a little black cap and gorgeous black livery held the door for her, and Lucy stepped into another world.
It was like being back in Paris, opulence and luxury everywhere her dazzled eyes could see.Rather than the austere elegance of a London drawing room, the lobby of The Grand Hotel called to mind the sumptuousness of a Parisian salon.
The floors were inlaid marble, the walls a mosaic of tiles gleaming richly in shades of gold, silver, and bronze.Spectacular chandeliers dripped crystal and cast a blaze of light over the potted orange and lemon trees dotted between the golden velvet settees and chaises.
A discreet cough at her elbow startled Lucy and recalled her to her purpose.She hadn’t time to gawk.She needed to take one look around the dining room for her quarry and then beat Charlie back to the carriage.
“How may I serve, madame?”An impeccably dressed white man bowed to her, showcasing black hair combed over a very shiny bald pate.He was shorter than Lucy, neat and quick in his movements, giving the impression of a person of great energy and efficiency.
“I’m looking for someone,” Lucy said.“A particular gentleman.I was told he might be dining here this evening.”
A gleam of satisfaction lit the small man’s face.“We are fortunate to have a very full dining room this evening.But we can always accommodate the sister of the Duke of Ashbourn.”
Lucy started.So much for anonymity.“You know who I am?”
“It is my job to know everyone who is anyone in London society,” the man said modestly.“I am the manager here.Gerald Leach, at your service.”
“Pleased to make your acquaintance, Mr.Leach.”Lucy recalled the concierge at The Ritz when she’d stayed there.Monsieur Manton had been tall and cadaverously thin with a leonine head of hair he’d kept ruthlessly coiffed.
In looks, the two men were nothing alike.But she thought she divined a certain similarity in bearing—a deference without obsequiousness which promised that most valuable of commodities: discretion.
Glancing about the bustling lobby, Lucy drew the unresisting hotel manager into the lee of a particularly thriving orange tree.“Mr.Leach, may I take you into my confidence?”
He beamed.“It would be my very great honor, my lady.”
“The gentleman I seek is the Duke of Thornecliff.”
The smile dropped from his face, replaced with something like caution.“Ah.”
“Is he here?”
“I really could not say,” Mr.Leach replied, recovering his pleasantly helpful demeanor with impressive aplomb.
Lucy narrowed her eyes at the evasive response.“Well, I should like to take a look for myself.I would appreciate it if you would escort me to a vantage point from which I might see into the dining room without being seen myself.”
“Her ladyship does not wish to join the duke?”Mr.Leach clarified warily.“If he were to be in attendance tonight?”
Lucy’s stomach dropped.Thornecliff was here, and he was not alone.She’d be willing to bet on it.
Pulling herself together, she shook her head.“No.”
She wouldn’t join him yet.She didn’t have time at the moment for the sort of conversation she wished to have.
Lucy could only hope that Thornecliff would still be making his way through the famed fourteen-course dinner—accompanied or not—when she returned later after having shaken her watchdog.
“Say no more, my lady.I understand perfectly.”Mr.Leach was all smiles once more.Apparently, it was not uncommon for a lady to wish to secretly observe the infamous Duke of Thornecliff, like a tourist gawking at the tiger in the Royal Menagerie.
“In that case,” he continued, “perhaps your ladyship would care to follow me?I believe I have just the spot.”
Feeling the pressure of seconds ticking past, Lucy stepped quickly after Mr.Leach, who led her past the gilt-edged main doors to the dining room.They went instead through a plain white door that led to a side hallway and another plain doorway, which Mr.Leach cracked open with a bow.A rush of conversation and laughter spilled out, punctuated by the gentle clatter of silver on china.
“If your ladyship would care to direct her gaze toward the fountain,” he murmured.
