Page 10 of Lady Scandal

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Delia had never been the sort to let grass grow under her feet. After her meeting with Calderon, she marched straight to the Savoy’s telegraph office and fired off a cable to Ritz in Rome. She then went in search of Ritz’s second-in-command, but Monsieur Echenard had departed that morning for a winter holiday on the Riviera with his family. A sudden impulse, she was told by the assistant manager’s secretary.

“Sudden impulse, my eye,” Delia muttered as she departed Echenard’s office. “Helen’s responsible for getting him out of the way, I’ll wager, and Ritz, too. Thereby giving that impossible man a free hand.”

With half an hour to spare before her first appointment of the day, Delia made a few discreet inquiries among the staff, and though everyone with whom she spoke was as disgruntled about the changes being made and as worried about the future as she was, no one seemed able to add any details to what she already knew.

She did, however, have one more source of information available to her. When she returned to the hotel after her last appointment of the morning and found no reply from Ritz awaiting her, she went straight to the Duke of Westbourne’s suite.

Her cousin, thankfully, was in.

“Delia? What a delightful surprise.” Max opened the door wider for her to enter. “How was Paris?”

“Cold,” she replied, giving his cheek an affectionate kiss before passing through the doorway into the sitting room of his suite. “Rainy. A lot like here. But it is January, so what else can one expect? Are you on your way out?” she added, noting his morning coat and the fresh carnation in his buttonhole.

“I’m having a late lunch with Marbury at Rules,” he explained, closing the door behind her. “I’m only waiting for my valet to bring my hat, and I’m off. The blasted thing got crushed during the train journey down here, and Stowell took it to the Savoy’s laundry to try and repair the damage. Did you come by to hear all the news from Gloucestershire?”

“I’d adore that, but I really came to talk with you about something else entirely. It’s rather important, but I don’t want to make you late.”

“The later the better, to my mind. Marbury wants to bend my ear over the new Reform Bill before the Lords vote on it tomorrow, and I couldn’t find an excuse to get out of it. Marbury’s a worthy fellow, but deadly dull. He pontificates endlessly, which I suppose is what makes him so accomplished as an MP. Either way, we have a bit of time for a chat, I think. What’s the trouble?”

Reassured, she took a deep breath and plunged ahead. “Dearest Max, I need your help.”

His mouth took on a wry curve. “Knowing you, that spells trouble.”

“I don’t know how you can say that. The last time I asked you for help, you met a girl and got married.”

“Exactly.”

Delia was well aware that Max adored his wife, Evie, so she merelygave him a playful smack on the arm. “Do be serious. I’ve got a problem, and you are the perfect person to help me resolve it.”

“Given that you’ve been away, I don’t know how you even knew I was in town.”

“I hear everything that goes on in this hotel. And what’s going on now,” she added, sinking onto the settee, “is a disaster.”

“Ah,” he said with a nod of understanding. “This is about Lord Calderon, no doubt.”

She made a face at the mention of her newfound nemesis. “I’ve always admired your perspicacity, Max. It’s why you’re my favorite cousin.”

He studied her face for a moment, then walked to the liquor cabinet. “Whisky or sherry?” he asked over his shoulder.

“Whisky,” she answered at once. “Sherry is much too delicate for my present mood.”

Max laughed, shaking back his dark hair as he poured a generous measure of whisky into a tumbler. “Calderon’s giving the hotel a bit of a dustup, I imagine?”

“That’s one way of putting it.”

“And you’ve come to cry on my shoulder?” he asked as he brought her the drink.

She snorted, giving him an impatient glance as she took the offered glass. “I didn’t come for sympathy,” she corrected and took a generous swallow of whisky. “I already told you; I came for help. Specifically, I need information.”

His eyes, the same dark blue as hers, widened as if in surprise. “Information about Calderon? I hardly know the man.”

“He went to Harrow. Two years ahead of you.”

“Even so, I don’t believe we ever met until a few weeks ago.”

“I thought all of you knew each other. The old school tie, and allthat. Either way,” she went on as he shook his head, “you’re a major investor in the hotel. You must have been there for that shareholders’ meeting a few weeks ago.”

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