Page 84 of Bad Luck Bride

“I’ll be right there.” She retrieved her clipboard and jotted down the measurements she’d just taken, then shoved her pencil behind her ear and went down to the ground floor, where she found Devlin standing by the front desk, an enormous picnic basket at his feet, the basket’s origins stamped in big black letters on its side.

“Fortnum & Mason?” she cried in delighted surprise.

“I thought we could do with some lunch.”

“Rather. I’m famished.”

“Where shall we dine?” He glanced around the dim and dusty foyer. “Doesn’t seem to be anywhere suitable in here.”

“Perhaps the kitchens?” she suggested. “I saw a deal table in there and a few chairs. Not much else, though.”

“That’ll do.” He bent and picked up the basket. “Lead me to it.”

She complied, taking him across the foyer and down the long,dark corridor to the kitchens. “Here we are,” she said, gesturing to the battered table and a trio of rickety-looking ladderback chairs. “It’s not much, but from what I’ve seen so far, this is the only furniture in the entire place.”

“That doesn’t surprise me. If they went bankrupt, all the furnishings would have been sold.” He set the basket on the table, reached inside, and pulled out a napkin, laying it across the wooden seat of one of the chairs. “Your seat, my lady.”

“Playing waiter, are you?” she asked as she sat down and began pulling off her gloves.

“Well, someone has to play that role, and it can’t be you. You outrank me.”

She laughed at that as he unfolded a second napkin with a professional flick of his wrist and spread it across the table.

“Now,” he said, rummaging in the basket, “let’s see what we have in here.”

He pulled out plates, a knife, a chunk of ham, a pot of mustard, a wedge of bright orange Gloucester cheese, and a baguette of bread. A bottle of claret followed, along with two glasses and a corkscrew. “Unwrap the ham, will you?” he asked and began to open the wine.

“I thought you were the waiter,” she teased, reaching for the ham. “Isn’t this your job?”

“Well, when you’ve hired only one waiter, you have to help him out.”

“Fair enough.” Taking up a knife, she cut the twine netting and unfolded the cheesecloth wrapping, then began slicing it while he poured the wine.

“A shame we don’t have candles,” she murmured. “It’s quite dimin here. There’s gas jets,” she added, nodding to a point high up on the wall behind him, “but no electricity.”

“That’s not uncommon in a hotel kitchen.”

“It isn’t? Well,” she added when he nodded, “there’s no electricity in the rooms, either. To add it would be costly, I imagine?”

“Through the entire hotel? Very. Do you think it’s important?”

“Don’t you?”

“Forget what I think.” He paused, pushing a glass of claret toward her and reaching for the wedge of cheese. “I’m asking what you think,” he reminded as he began paring cheese.

“Oh.” Startled, Kay set down her knife and sat back with a slice of ham and cheese, laughing a little, feeling suddenly self-conscious. “It’s so seldom a woman is asked what she thinks, unless it’s about clothes or something equally trivial. We’re never consulted about anything important.”

She paused, nibbling on ham and cheese as she considered. “I think,” she said after a moment, “there’s probably two kinds of customers. The ones who care about tradition and keeping with what’s familiar and the ones who prefer the latest modern comforts. So putting in electricity rather depends on which sort of customer you wish to cater to, doesn’t it?”

“Quite right.” He took a slice of cheese and his wineglass and leaned back against the wall behind him. “You must be the modern sort. After all, you are a woman with a career. That’s very modern.”

“I’ve had this career for a week,” she reminded. “I’m not sure it counts. But I do prefer electricity, I confess. Mama hates it. When we first came to the Savoy, she fretted about all the vapors in the air. Jo and I both tried to explain that electricity isn’t like gas, and there are no vapors, but we don’t think she quite believed us. Either way,I think electricity is the way of the future, and that putting it in would probably be worth the cost. Unless, of course, there’s heaps of other work to do to the place.”

He nodded. “Are there any water closets?”

“I saw only one on the first floor, but I don’t know how many others there might be. There’s no boiler, so no hot water. And the rooms are very small. Still, the location is first rate. It is St. James, after all. So, even if you had to gut the building or demolish it altogether, it might be worth it, depending on the—what?” she broke off as he began to laugh.

“And you said you don’t know anything?” he chided. “If we do this much longer, you’ll be more knowledgeable about the hotel trade than I am.”

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