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Chapter1
London, June 1900
Flossy and Floyd waited in the foyer of the Mayfair Hotel with as little patience as five-year-olds before an outing to the circus. The reason for their restlessness was different, however, even though all three of us were heading off to the polo together. In Flossy’s case, it was because she didn’t want to be late and our mode of transport was supposed to collect us fifteen minutes ago. In Floyd’s case, it was because he was full of excitable energy in anticipation of riding in an automobile borrowed from a guest.
Flossy tugged her brother’s watch out of his waistcoat pocket and flipped open the case. “We’ll miss all the pre-match entertainment.”
Floyd snatched the watch from her and tucked it back into his pocket. “I told you before, we’ll get there on time. Now stop whining. You’ll spoil the experience.” He glanced over her head as Frank opened the door for two guests entering the hotel. “Anything?”
“No sight yet, sir.”
Floyd strode past the doorman and gazed along Piccadilly in the direction from which the automobile should arrive, given it was housed in the hotel’s stables. He then checked the other direction before returning to the foyer. Frank had held the door open the entire time without complaint, although his smile tightened as his employer’s son passed him again. Knowing Frank was a curmudgeonly sort, I was surprised he managed to hold the smile for as long as he did.
Not that Floyd noticed. “Perhaps the mechanic discovered a problem when he started it.”
“I knew we should have gone by horse and carriage.” Flossy tucked her closed parasol under her arm and pulled a fan from her bag. “Horseless carriages are too unreliable.”
“You enjoyed the ride last time.”
She fanned herself more vigorously than was necessary, given it was pleasant inside the hotel. “We were driven around a circuit by the manufacturer’s driver that day. We had no destination and no schedule.” She closed the fan with a snap and poked her brother with it. “Go and see why it’s taking the driver so long.”
“Mechanic, not driver.”
“But he’ll be driving us, won’t he?”
“Yes, but he’s called a mechanic, not a driver.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know. It’s just what they prefer to be called. I suppose it’s because they’re more than a mere driver. They fix engines when required, too. They’re also called automobiles by those in the industry, not horseless carriages.”
“Whatever the contraptions are called, if they didn’t break down so often in the first place, mechanical skills wouldn’t be required.”
Floyd rolled his eyes. “Cleo, tell her the driver of an automobile is called a mechanic before she insults the fellow.”
I’d been beginning to wonder if my cousins remembered I was waiting with them. They’d seemed so preoccupied with the arrival of the vehicle, or lack thereof. “I like the word the French use.Chauffeur.”
Floyd nodded, but Flossy dismissed the suggestion with a shake of her head. “It’ll never catch on outside of France. The English prefer English words and English things.”
“Like the food ourchef de cuisineserves in our restaurant?” Floyd asked with a smirk, knowing very well that Mrs. Poole’s dishes had a decidedly French influence.
Flossy sighed dramatically. “Whereishe? All our friends will be wondering where we are.”
“Don’t worry, we’ll still arrive on time. The automobile will go much faster than a horse once we’re out of London.”
“That’s if it ever gets here at all.” Her shoulders rounded, as if the thought weighed her down. “It’ll be a disaster if we can’t get to the polo today.”
“There’ll be other matches,” I told her. “I’m sure Floyd’s friends will invite us again.”
“But it’s the final of the Champion Cup! Everyone who matters will be theretoday, not next Saturday or the one after.Today, Cleo. There’s a rumor the Prince of Wales will attend.”
Only members and their invited guests could gain entry to the exclusive Elms Polo Club. Guest vouchers were highly sought after at the best of times, but they were rarer than rubies on the day the final cup match was to be played.
Flossy’s shoulders drooped even further. “We need to be there, Cleo. After being snubbed by the Duchess of Kirklees, we simplymustbe at the polo. The success of my season depends upon it.”
“It’s not as if we will be at a loose end the night of her ball.”
“Lady Trefusis’s ball is hardly in the same league as the Duchess of Kirklees’s.” She gave me a look that implied I ought to know better.
