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He tugged on his cuff. “He hasn’t noticed yet. He was in a hurry when he left this morning.”
Considering Frank’s entire plan hinged on my uncle noticing he wasn’t greeting guests, it could all come to naught.
“He’s an observant man, Sir Ronald,” Frank went on. “He’ll notice sooner or later.”
That was true. Uncle Ronald was very observant when it came to the workings of the hotel. “Careful what you wish for, Frank. You’re treading a thin line on behalf of someone else’s losing battle.”
“I appreciate the warning, Miss Fox, but if it’s all the same, I’ll continue with the fight.” He held the door open for me. “Good day to you.” Realizing he’d just broken his own go-slow rule, he clicked his tongue and berated himself under his breath.
Inside, Mr. Hobart beckoned me into his office with a tilt of his head. He closed the door behind us and asked me to sit. His usually sparkling blue eyes were dull, grim.
“Is this about Harry?” I asked.
“No? Why? Has something happened to him?”
“He’s perfectly well. I was just with him, as it happens.”
His gaze narrowed. “Is something the matter between the two of you?”
“Nothing that can’t be resolved over a cup of Luigi’s coffee.” I attempted a smile and hoped it convinced him.
“Good, good. Miss Fox, I saw you speaking to Frank just now.”
“Apparently he is doing the minimum and merely opening the door without offering greetings or smiles.”
“So he warned me before his shift began this morning. Sir Ronald hasn’t noticed, but I’m concerned that when he does, he’ll dismiss Frank on the spot. As much as Frank is a curmudgeon, I’d miss him. He’s been here a long time, and I can’t imagine the front door of the hotel without him standing there.”
“Yes, I agree.”
“Cobbit’s work is a little more specialized. There may be many other coachmen in London, but good ones don’t grow on trees. Frank, however, is replaceable. Anyone can open a door, smile, and say ‘good morning.’ In fact, they’ll probably do a better job of it. Frank can be a little curt, and he’s famously rude to the staff or anyone he believes shouldn’t be entering the Mayfair.”
I remembered all too well the frosty reception I’d received from Frank on the day I arrived at the Mayfair in December. He took one look at my shabby clothes and luggage and couldn’t believe I was related to the Bainbridges. He was as much a snob as any of my family’s upper-class friends.
“I tried warning him not to anger my uncle just now, but he seemed determined to press on with his mission.”
Mr. Hobart sighed. “He’ll dig his own grave if he’s not protected from his own folly.”
“We need to do something. Convince him somehow that he can’t win.”
Mr. Hobart touched his tie to readjust it, even though it was perfectly straight.
“You’ve already got a plan, haven’t you?” I said.
“You could say that.”
I smiled. “You not only have a plan, but you’ve already enacted it. Tell me, Mr. Hobart. What is it?”
He gave me a smug look, something I’d never seen on the humble man’s face before. “I told the front of house staff to inform the guests that Frank has lost his voice. I assured them he’s otherwise well, but simply woke up this morning unable to talk.”
I grinned. “That’s an excellent plan. Does anyone in my family know the truth?”
“Only you. I’ll make sure Sir Ronald and the others hear about Frank’s laryngitis before they find out what he’s really up to.”
I breathed a sigh of relief as I stood. That was one crisis averted. Unfortunately it didn’t lift my somber mood.
I worried about Harry for the rest of the day.
Chapter13
