I winced, but gave in to the inevitable. To not offer would be rude, and I would surely hear about it tomorrow if I didn’t. My standing with the duke, and with Crispin’s parents, was already low enough. “May I offer you a cup of tea or something stronger?”
I was sure he’d jump on the opportunity to sit down and kick his feet up and drink Christopher’s liquor and keep on annoying me for as long as I allowed it. I was rather surprised when he said, “I’m afraid I’m in a bit of a hurry. Although a quick look around can’t hurt. You know Mother and Grandfather will ask me whether you and Kit are sharing.”
Of all the cheek! But of course, if I refused to show him around, then he’d go home and tell them that, and then they’d think there had to be a reason why I was being secretive… and so I really was better served by letting him look, no matter how little I wanted to.
“Through there is the sitting room. Feel free to step through.”
He did, and I followed, gesturing to the openings on both sides. “Kitchen and dining room to the right. Hall with two bedrooms and bath to the left.”
“Cozy,” Crispin commented. His face was impassive, and as such it was difficult to determine whether it was simply a comment on the size of the place—the whole flat could have fit into half a wing of Sutherland Hall, where Crispin still lived with his mother, father, and grandfather—or whether it was an observation on how closely Christopher and I shared space.
As a result, I wasn’t sure whether to take offense or not. It’s usually safe to do so when dealing with Crispin, but then there are those times when I jump to the wrong conclusion and he gets to smirk about it.
So I sniffed, but forbore to respond. “Mine is the closed door. Christopher’s bedroom is at the end of the hall, with the bath between.”
Crispin nodded, ambling down the hall to stick his head into Christopher’s room. “Kit isn’t home?”
I knew that Crispin could tell that someone lived in Christopher’s room. All of Christopher’s male paraphernalia was there: his clothes, his shoes, his shaving kit, and his suspenders. Anything Kitty used had always been kept in my room. Christopher had insisted. Now I was rather pleased by his foresight.
“He went out for the evening,” I said.
Christopher had been as quiet as a mouse the whole time I’d been talking to Crispin. He no doubt knew his cousin was here, and figured that if anyone was liable to see through his makeup and wig, it was a boy who had known him since he was in nappies.
The latter eyed my closed door in silence for a moment before he arched a brow. “Not going to invite me to see your bedroom, Darling?”
“Absolutely not. Have you lost your mind?”
“Clearly,” Crispin said dryly, and turned back towards the foyer and front door. “I’ll be at Sutherland House until tomorrow morning if you change your mind about the motorcar. Rogers will pass on a message.”
I thought about telling him we wouldn’t change our minds, that there was no way I would willingly volunteer for several hours in a motorcar with him when I didn’t have to, but in the end, I bit my tongue on the impulse and informed him, placidly, that I’d consult Christopher before we made a decision and then let him know if his services were required.
Then I followed Crispin across the foyer. “I’ll see you down.” And have a chat with Evans about the difference between Crispin and Christopher, and not to let the wrong Mr. Astley back upstairs without notice again.
Crispin smirked, like he knew exactly what I was thinking, but all he said was, “Delighted.”
And then he proceeded to hold the door for me so I could pass in front of him, and to close it gently behind me once I was through and into the hallway.
TWO
I thoughtwe would make it down to the first floor unmolested. We were at the lift doors and the lift was coming. Neither of us had spoken a word since we’d left the flat, so it wasn’t like we were making any noise to attract attention. But nonetheless, just as the lift arrived on our floor with a cheerfulding, the door to a flat down the hall opened, and a strident voice called out, “Hold the elevator!”
Crispin stopped in the middle of pulling back the grille to watch as a vision in pink came storming down the hall towards us, scarves and chiffon panels fluttering and brown curls bouncing, teeth on full display. “Hullo, Pippa.”
I cleared my throat. “Florence.”
“Oh, don’t stand on ceremony, sweetie! You know I’ve told you a thousand times to call me Flossie.”
She turned to Crispin and stuck out a hand, all her perfect teeth on shining display. “There you are, Mr. Astley. I had started to worry you were avoiding me.”
Crispin blinked, and I could see the thoughts following one another rapidly through his head. Of course he wasn’t Christopher, so he had no idea who he was talking to—the American dime-store heiress from Toledo, in case you wondered—and so he had no way of addressing her by her last name. Since he couldn’t in propriety use her given name when she hadn’t used his, he was at a loss. I thought about what I might do to help, and then decided to let him sink or swim on his own. I didn’t owe Crispin anything.
In any case, he ended up circumventing the issue rather expertly, by taking the hand she extended and—instead of shaking it—lifting it to his lips. When they brushed across her knuckles, Florence blushed a deep pink and tittered.
I rolled my eyes, even as I reflected that Christopher would most likely end up paying for that. “We were just on our way down to the lobby, Florence. Cris… Mr. Astley was just leaving, and I have to speak to Evans about something.”
Crispin smirked, since he knew exactly what I wanted to speak to Evans about. Instead of saying anything about it, however, he handed Florence expertly into the lift and offered me his hand next. “Darling.”
“I can manage,” I told him coldly, and stepped into the box on my own. Crispin busied himself with pulling the grille across the opening, but not without a distinctly amused look on his face. Florence looked from one to the other of us with confusion. It was clear that she didn’t understand why Christopher and I were acting so out of character towards one another, when we normally got on famously.
