She moved past him, signaling for one of the footmen to open the front door. Richard fell in behind, muttering. “Yes, perish the thought.”
If theRose and Thornslived up to its review, the food should be top-notch. The reviewer forthe Morning Heraldhad used the word ‘sublime’ in his piece. Any reviewer worth his salt wouldn’t throw that word around too lightly. It was something to be used rarely, like finely shaved truffles. Just a taste, and nothing more was needed.
The Mowbray town carriage drew up out the front of an address in Oxford Street. As the coach slowed, Victoria peered out the window. “Hmm.” She opened her reticule and took out a piece of paper. “Well this is the right place, but I can’t see anyone inside. Nor are there any lights showing.”
Richard shifted to the door and opened it. “Wait here. I’ll be back in a jiffy.”
He was good to his word. Within a minute of stepping out of the carriage and making his way to the door of the restaurant, her brother had returned.
“TheRose and Thornsis closed. There is a small note pinned to the front door which read: ‘Due to supply issues, we are closeduntil further notice.’ Isn’t that the same thing the waiter attheGraceful Swansaid they were experiencing?” said Richard.
“Yes, he mentioned a spice war, though I didn’t take it all that seriously at the time because it sounds utterly ridiculous.”
How hard could it be to buy spice in London?
“Don’t you think it odd that both restaurants have experienced supply problems after they have been featured inthe Morning Herald?” he replied.
She wasn’t by nature a suspicious person, but Victoria smelled a rat. Had the newspaper reviewer been trying to get people to come to his friends’ restaurants not because their food was good, but because they were in trouble?
Had he been taking liberties with his loyal readers? If he had, that was an outrage. A scandal. And Lady Victoria Kembal knew a thing or two about scandals.
Food was a serious business and anyone publishing an opinion in the papers had to be beyond reproach. Favors could not be sought nor given.
Or am I just being a naïve young miss?
“There is no point in us lingering here in the street,” she said. They could turn the carriage around and simply go home, but the risk of them finding their parents still engaged in an amorous argument was too great. Richard gave her a look which reflected her own thoughts. They were not going home.
“How about we head over to Leicester Square and see if we can find a table at one of the supper clubs that welcomes ladies,” he said. “Worst case we end up at a fish shop down by the river.”
Her brother’s suggestion was a solid one. They were both hungry, and Victoria knew more about the eating establishments in that part of town than most people.
“Alright. We shall try theCafé Lyonand see if they can seat us. If that fails, then we head to the river.”
Richard climbed out and instructed their driver where to take them. He climbed back on board, and after closing the door of their carriage, slumped back against the seat. Victoria could just imagine what was going through his head. If they did end up eating fish and oysters by the river, it was going to be difficult for him to ask her for money. Usually when they went out to a restaurant, she’d hand him the coins to pay for their meals, along with a little extra. A subtle move that meant he didn’t actually have to beg his younger sister for a handout.
She was sure they would find a way to sort out the food arrangements along with Richard’s money, but it still left the matter of the restaurant reviewer unresolved. Twice he had failed her. She wasn’t in the mood for giving him another chance.
Sitting and staring out the window of the carriage as it rattled through the dark, cobbled streets of London, Victoria pondered her next move. It was time to take action.
I shouldn’t be subjected to restaurant review fraud.
Tomorrow morning she would write her first letter to the editor ofthe Morning Herald, but instead of it being about the restaurant she was meant to have just visited, it would be a strongly worded missive noting her displeasure at the behavior of the restaurant critic.
She’d decided to make it her business to ensure that the reviewer came to regret toying with the sensibilities of the newspaper’s readership. Of taking so little care with the serious subject of food. He’d failed her for the last time.
Perhaps this gentleman, whoeverhewas, might take her words to heart and graciously put his pen and ink away, allowing someone who truly appreciated fine dining to take up the lofty mantle of restaurant reviewer. Someone who could be relied upon to write honest and critical reviews.
And she knew exactly the right person for the job.
Me.
Victoria chuckled softly to herself. It was an impossible dream. The owner of the newspaper would never knowingly permit an unmarried woman to write forthe Morning Herald.
But if a gentleman reader who regularly followed the column showed his depth of knowledge, the editor might take him more seriously. She had a whole journal full of her personal reviews which she could draw upon. Extensive notes which would add weight to her argument.
It would take a little effort on her part to copy some of those reviews, but it would be worth it. They would help to establish her credentials. The reviewer would then understand that this particular reader was not going to go quietly into the night.
With her heavy piece of correspondence, the editor ofthe Morning Heraldwas sure to sit up and take notice.
