Page 11 of Lady Scandal
“I came to London because two very important votes were scheduled in the House of Lords that week. I’m here again this week for the same reason.”
She waved aside politics. “Were you at that shareholders’ meeting or not? Well, then,” she added as he gave a nod, “you must know what’s going on.”
“I may be an investor, Dee, but I’m not privy to the board’s decisions regarding hotel operations. Besides, you got back from Paris last night, didn’t you? Given your uncanny ability to ferret out secrets, you probably know far more about the whole affair by this time than I do.”
She didn’t reply, but merely continued to look at him, waiting, and after a moment, Max sighed and sat in the chair opposite her with his drink, resigned to his fate. “What do you want to know that you think I can tell you?”
“What happened at that meeting?”
“We got bad news. No dividend, yet again. That’s four straight quarters with investors receiving no return on our investment. Profits are down, again, and by a very significant margin. There was a huge outcry from the shareholders, as you might expect, and we demanded that something be done.”
“That something being Calderon?”
“Mrs. Carte regaled us with his qualifications, which are impressive, and suggested he might be willing to turn things around. She brought him into the meeting—”
“What, right then and there? Helen doesn’t waste any time, does she?”
“Calderon gave us his opinion on what changes were needed, andwhat he felt he could do in that regard. We were keenly impressed, agreed with his contentions, and despite the scandal of his father—”
“Scandal? What scandal?”
“It hardly matters. It was ages ago, and it had nothing to do with Calderon. So the board voted him in as a member with stock shares as compensation for his efforts.”
“But whyhim? Couldn’t your lot have chosen someone whose diplomatic skill is not equivalent to the tread of a bull elephant? Here three weeks, and he’s already got everyone in an uproar. Chopping, changing, undermining Ritz at every turn. What’s the good of that?”
“Dee, I appreciate the loyalty that Ritz has earned from all of you, but I’m sure everyone will cooperate with Calderon.”
“Will they? The odds are long, in my opinion. I’ve heard very little about him that’s positive.”
“Perhaps you don’t want to hear anything positive.”
She ignored that. “It’s hardly surprising, since he’s high-handed, incredibly bossy, and absolutely determined to have things his own way.”
“Is he?” Max lifted his glass, giving her a meaningful glance over the rim. “He sounds a bit like a cousin of mine.”
“I’m nothing like that,” she countered, aghast at the very idea that she and that impossible man were in any way alike.
“No?” Max cocked his head to one side, studying her with one raised eyebrow. “How many nannies did you wear out before your exasperated parents sent you off to finishing school?”
Delia made a sound of impatience at this unnecessary reference to her rather turbulent childhood. “I don’t see what that has to do with anything,” she protested, but when Max continued to subject her to his steady, unrelenting ducal stare, she sighed and gave in. “Four,” she replied, “but I really don’t see—”
“And how many finishing schools sent you down before you finally managed to graduate?”
“Three,” she admitted and mustered her dignity, “but we’re not talking about me and my rebellious youth. We are talking about the present, and Lord Calderon. He is not a rebellious adolescent but a grown man, one who seems unable to see any point of view but his own. Max, the man has no understanding of how things are done here and refuses to care. He isn’t even bothering to consult with Ritz about the changes he wants to make. Is it any wonder the staff’s noses are put out? And how does he expect to manage the staff anyway? Why, the man doesn’t even speak proper French!”
Max’s lips twitched. “A grievous sin, indeed,” he said gravely.
“In this case, it is! Many of the hotel employees are French and are far more comfortable speaking in that language. Why, at least a third of the kitchen staff don’t speak English at all, including Escoffier. Calderon’s French is so painful to the ears that if Escoffier sees him coming, he’ll duck into the larder and lock the door! How does that happen anyway?” she added, momentarily sidetracked. “How is it that a gentleman, a peer of the realm, speaks such abysmal French?”
Max, the wretch, actually laughed.
“What?” she demanded. “What has you so amused?”
“Nothing.” He hastily stifled his laughter, but the smile at the corners of his mouth lingered, telling her it was only a token effort. “It’s just that I’m remembering a conversation from a couple of years ago, when you called me out for wondering the very same thing about a certain young lady we both know.”
Delia scowled, remembering the conversation in question. “That was different.”
“Not so very different. You severely scolded me—and quite rightly, too—for wondering such a thing about Evie. And—”
