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“Yes. Rafe—er, Mr. Davies has always spoken quite highly of him.”
She turned to him. “SoMrs.Davies has told me.” It took Henry a moment to realize she was teasing him.
Before he could respond, the concierge had appeared to escort them to the private lift. The man was all too eager to have the viscountess’s attention once again. Henry hung back a little so he could take in their surroundings. The lobby was open and airy, reminiscent of the Moorish buildings he had visited once in Spain, with brightly colored tiles, accent fountains, enormous potted ferns, and other vegetation. Impressionist art was featured prominently on the walls.
The concierge had begun discussing the hotel’s history, most of which he already knew from Rafe: how Mr. Previn had been born into a family of well-respected hoteliers, but when he took over the property after his father’s death, he began a massive renovation plan. Gone were the dark, heavy furnishings so popular with English tourists. Instead, Mr. Previn took inspiration from the airy and bright riads of Marrakesh, his mother’s birthplace. When it had reopened, some declared that the hotel wouldn’t last a year, that Mr. Previn had thrown away the reputation his father’s family had worked decades to earn on a silly whim, but the naysayers had been wrong. The hotel was an immediate success and drew more guests than ever before. It had been well over a decade since the reopening, and the hotel still continued to be extremely popular, boasting all of the latest amenities and technological advances. It was one of the first in the area to feature electricity in common rooms, along with a heated outdoor pool open year round.
“How fabulous,” Lady Arlington said, her neck craning to take in a blue and yellow stained glass dome above them that let in natural light. They reached the private lift around the corner from the public one.
“I’ll wait,” Henry said. He had little desire to be crammed into a small space, even less so with Lady Arlington.
Not if it were just the two of us.
He ignored the thought.
The concierge barely masked his joy as he ushered Lady Arlington into the compartment. “It is automatic. Only push this and it will engage,” he explained in a thick French accent as he tapped a button.
Henry’s eyes met Lady Arlington’s as the man pulled the wrought iron door closed. “Easy enough,” he replied. Their gazes remained locked together as the lift slowly rose until she disappeared into the floor above, far out of reach.
Chapter Ten
Georgiana was certainly no stranger to luxury, but the Empress Suite of the Hotel Luna still managed to take her breath away. Much like the downstairs lobby, it was filled with natural light, with a row of floor-to-ceiling windows along one wall that immediately drew the eye. A set of French doors opened out onto a spacious balcony, and beyond that, the blue-green of the Mediterranean Sea glittered like a precious stone freshly polished.
Monsieur Ormonde, the concierge, had barely paused for breath as he discussed the hotel’s storied history and the many design elements that Mr. Previn—Mahmood—had incorporated, fusing Moorish and French style.
In Georgiana’s opinion, her host was nothing short of a visionary. She would love the chance to talk with him about his inspiration, if he had the time.
The concierge opened the door that led to the master bedroom, clearly wanting to take her on a tour of the entire suite. Two years ago Georgiana would have let him, too polite to put her own desires first. But no more. She had finally learned to prioritize herself. And right now what she wanted was a bit of quiet and something delicious to eat.
“Thank you very much, monsieur,” she said sincerely as she pressed a very generous tip into his hand. “That will be all.”
Ever the consummate professional, the man immediately bowed. “If there is anything you need, please do not hesitate to notify me directly.”
Georgiana smiled. “I will.”
Soon after he left, Bea appeared from the master bedroom. “I’ve unpacked your luggage, my lady. Would you like me to order something to eat?”
“You’ve read my mind. A plate of sandwiches, perhaps?”
Her maid nodded then hesitated for a moment. “Will Captain Harris be joining you?”
The concierge knew the captain was here acting as her protection officer and had explained that his room was on the other end of the suite, off the parlor. It made sense for him to share the suite with her—it was massive, after all—and yet it still felt dangerously close.
“No,” she said quickly. Just as Bea began to turn away, Georgiana called her back. “But perhaps see if he needs anything.”
It had only just dawned on her that every man of her acquaintance traveled with a valet, while Captain Harris had come alone. That was an appalling notion to most of the people Georgiana knew, but she only felt self-conscious. Guilty, even. After all, she didn’tneeda maid, though Bea certainly made her life much easier. And Georgiana paid her handsomely for her service.
Bea, unaware of the warring thoughts within her mistress’s head, went to consult Captain Harris and order the food. Georgiana headed for the balcony, as the lure of the sea was too strong to ignore. She tried to focus on the beauty of the view and remembered how fortunate she was to be here, even though she had been thoroughly annoyed by both her brother and Captain Harris for all but forcing her to come in the first place. No, that wasn’t quite true. She did want to see Sylvia, even though the timing wasn’t exactly ideal.
She had been assured by her lawyers before she left London that everything was progressing just as it should. And Mr. Khan had gone so far as to suggest that her continued presence in the city could be detrimental. If anything else occurred, it could scare off potential investors. And Georgiana certainly didn’t want that.
But now that she had made the journey, she would do her best to put aside thoughts of the business and focus on the present. A pity that had to include the most confounding man she knew. He had barely looked at her since that morning in her cabin. Georgiana couldn’t tell if it was because she’d been a complete disgrace that evening or he was simply trying to remain as professional as possible. Either way, it hurt.
Soon enough the view did its magic and she was lost in the cliffs and the waves and the chattering sea birds. For a few precious minutes she was not the viscountess, or a lonely widow, or an unruly woman. But merely herself. Belatedly, Georgiana felt a presence beside her.
“Captain,” she said, not needing to look at him. That was how familiar his scent had become to her once again.
“Please give my regrets to the countess,” he murmured. “I will join you as soon as I can.”
