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“They already have their preferred dining establishments,” Mr. Hobart said in the voice I’d heard him use to placate irritated guests. “The Savoy, Claridges, the Carlton—”
“Yes, yes.”
Floyd handed the lists back to Mr. Hobart. “It doesn’t matter. These people aren’t going to garner interest from the press.”
“Why not?” Mr. Hobart asked.
“They’re not fashionable enough.”
Uncle Ronald bristled. “The Duchess of Manchester isn’t fashionable? She’s one of the prince’s friends! She’s a celebrated beauty!”
“Was. She’s getting on a bit nowadays. But I’d leave her on the list.”
“Would you now.”
“She’s still influential. Lady de Grey is also worth inviting. She knows a lot of artists and actors.” Floyd pointed to another name halfway down the list. “But he no longer has the prince’s favor.” He pointed to several more names. “Hartington is old and Cumberland lost his marbles. Strathconnen became a bore after he married, and the Honorable Susan Malvern hasn’t been seen in society for more than a year. Do you want me to go on?”
His father snatched the lists off him. “You would have us fill the most exclusive dining venue with rabble-rousers and singers, no doubt.”
“Only the rabble-rousers of impeccable pedigree, and singers if they happen to be the companion of someone important. I can think of a few who fit the bill. Any more than three or four and the society ladies won’t come.”
I wondered if his own mistress was among them. Apparently she was an actress.
“We need to get into the papers for all therightreasons, Floyd. Not because we’re providing the latest scandal.”
“That’s precisely what we do want! To make it into the newspapers these days, you have to provide them with something of interest. Dull old dignitaries that no one is interested in won’t make theMiddling Morning Heraldlet aloneThe Times.” He indicated the lists in his father’s hand. “You have two politicians on there, for goodness’ sake.”
His father sniffed. “You’ve said your piece, now if you don’t mind, I’m busy. Hobart, how are the preparations proceeding for the restaurant? Now that the structural work is complete, I expect you to be creating the right sort of ambience with lighting, decorations and what-not.”
Mr. Hobart cleared his throat. “I didn’t realize you wanted a detailed update on the restaurant this morning, sir.”
“What did you expect? A tea party? The dinner is five days away and all I’ve got is an empty shell. Of course I want an update on the restaurant. I want to know what it’ll look like in case any of these guests decide to show.” He picked up one of the lists only to screw it into a ball and toss it into the waste basket near his feet.
Mr. Hobart swallowed heavily. “I’ve appointed Mr. Chapman to work with a designer. As steward, he knows what diners want. He also has some exciting ideas and an eye for detail. Shall I fetch him?”
“Yes!”
Mr. Hobart retreated from the office as if he’d been pushed out by my uncle’s bellow. Floyd followed, but I hung back. Considering Uncle Ronald’s black mood, what I was about to say was risky, but I wanted to do it for Floyd’s sake. Besides, it helped knowing that my uncle’s temper was a result of anxiety over the opening of the restaurant, and I was going to suggest a way to alleviate some of it.
“You should let Floyd help you,” I said.
“So he can make a mess of things like he usually does?”
I winced and hoped Floyd wasn’t outside listening. “He may not be the most responsible person, but he’s got some fine qualities. Qualities that marry well with what you need right now.”
He didn’t dismiss me which meant I had his attention.
I took it as a sign to go on. “I remember the New Year’s Eve ball when you wanted Floyd’s friends to attend. They were young and popular and just what the ball needed, you said.”
“That was a party. The guests for the opening night dinner must represent the type of diner we want in our restaurant. Quality.”
“The people you want will follow the fashionable set, andtheywill go where they’ll be seen. For that, you need the attention of the press. I know Mr. Hobart and Mr. Chapman will make the restaurant shine, and Mrs. Poole will serve the most exciting menu London has ever seen. But without the press clamoring to write about it, it’ll come to naught. I think Floyd knows how to get the press interested better than Mr. Hobart or Mr. Chapman or even you, Uncle. If I’ve learned one thing since arriving in London, it’s that being fashionable means belonging to a particular group who are young. Floyd has contacts amongst that set. He knows what interests them. He knows what sort of experience will entice them to come.”
Uncle Ronald gave a flicker of his eyelashes before dismissing me with a nod directed at the door. I left, but as I closed the door behind me, I saw him crumple up the second guest list and throw it into the waste basket.
I released a breath and turned away from the door to see Floyd and Mr. Hobart watching me. They’d been out of earshot, thank goodness. Their twin expressions of concern made me smile.
“Everything will be all right,” I assured them.
