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Miss Hessing didn’t seem to notice. “Perhaps I’ll see you all at dinner tonight. Your cousins will be dining in, I assume?”
“I don’t know. Flossy probably will, but one never knows with Floyd.”
“Oh.” She shuffled her feet and shifted her bag from one hand to the other. “Pity.”
She seemed to have developed atendrefor Floyd after the ball. Knowing Floyd, it would not be reciprocated. He’d rescued her by asking her to dance, but it had been done out of kindness, not any depth of feeling on his part. If she pursued him, she was going to get her heart broken. I couldn’t think what to say to put her off him. Anything would sound too cumbersome, and this was a situation that required delicacy.
Before I could attempt to deter her from Floyd, Mrs. Hessing moved away from her friends. “Come along, Clare.”
Miss Hessing flashed me a smile before hurrying after her mother.
I watched them go with a sinking feeling. I didn’t like to interfere in the private lives of others, but I may have to in this case. I didn’t want her hopes to be raised.
Mr. Hobart approached with purposeful, unhurried steps. He was clearly heading for me, but he paused on his way to nod at one guest or exchange a few words with another. My uncle liked to think the Bainbridge family was the reason the guests returned every year, but I suspected the manager had more to do with it. He remembered everyone; not just the more important guests but even those who only stayed a single night. He knew the names of their family members, and even that of the lady’s maid or valet if the guests brought them. He kept notes on every little detail, from which room they preferred to the flowers they liked filling their vases, or the ailment they’d suffered from on their last visit. He studied the notes before each guest arrived and made sure to welcome as many in person as he could. He made himself available. Nothing was too much trouble. Whatever a guest wanted, the guest received, and always with a smile. Many would have been exhausted keeping up the charming façade, but that was the thing—it was no façade for Mr. Hobart. He was as agreeable in private as he was at work.
“Miss Fox, I’m so glad I caught you. My brother telephoned. He would like to see you.” He looked around to make sure no one was close enough to hear. “Meet him at Harry’s office in thirty minutes.”
“Harry’s office? Why not interview me here?”
“He’s not interviewing you about last night. Apparently an arrest has already been made.”
“Oh. Then why does he need to speak to me at all?”
Mr. Hobart was called away by Peter, who needed assistance with a guest’s request. I watched him go, not quite sure what to think. My heart had done a little flip in my chest at the prospect of seeing Harry again, but then it plunged. For one thing, seeing Harry was a bad idea. For another, I was disappointed that the murderer had been caught.
It was silly to feel disappointment. I ought to be pleased that he or she no longer posed a threat. But I’d been keen to piece the puzzle together myself. If nothing else, it would have given me something to do.
I returned to the fourth floor to fetch my coat, hat and gloves, only to be stopped by Flossy, emerging from her room.
“You’re heading out, Cleo? Where are you going?”
“Uh, the museum.”
She narrowed her gaze. “You’re investigating the murder, aren’t you?”
She knew me too well. “Apparently there has been an arrest, so my services aren’t required.”
“So you really are going to the museum?” She sighed. “Well, enjoy yourself. Perhaps later, we can discuss what to wear to the next ball. It’s only four days away.”
“Of course. It’s never too early to prepare for a ball.”
“Quite true.”
Thirty minutes later, I drew in a deep breath and went to push open the door to the office of Armitage and Associates. I stopped myself at the last moment. Barging in had been all well and good when I was trying to be Harry’s friend. It was too familiar for someone who was trying to keep her distance.
I knocked.
He opened the door.
We stared at one another for barely a second, but it felt longer. In that moment, the memory of the kiss we’d shared in St James’s Park came flooding back. I may have instigated it, but he’d responded with enthusiasm.
Until he hadn’t. He’d broken it off and walked away. We’d not seen one another since.
He stepped aside to allow me through. “Good morning, Miss Fox.”
I eyed him as I passed. “We agreed on first names, Harry.”
Detective Inspector Hobart greeted me and pulled out a chair for me to sit. “You’re looking well, Miss Fox. Isn’t she looking well, Harry?”
