Murder at the Mayfair Hotel (Cleopatra Fox Mysteries #1)- C.J. Archer Page 0,1
was smaller than the hotel’s foyer, he would have found it amusing too. But he did not. The smile disappeared and a blush infused his cheeks. He looked to the porter, who merely blinked at me.
I pressed my lips together until my smile flattened. “I’m sorry for my outburst. I’m sure the hotel is wonderful. I am very impressed with what I’ve seen so far, and the service is excellent.”
The porter puffed out his chest and the smile returned to the clerk’s face.
“However, you don’t need to sell the hotel’s qualities to me any further. I won’t be going to one of your competitors. I have no choice but to stay here.”
A small crease connected the clerk’s dark brows. “No choice?”
“I am Miss Fox.”
The clerk glanced down at his reservation book. “Did you telephone ahead? I recall a Miss Fox…”
“Miss Cleopatra Fox,” I clarified.
He flipped the page and ran his finger down the first column. “No Miss Foxes here. Perhaps there has been a mistake. A very rare mistake, you understand. This sort of thing almost never happens.” His frown returned. “Although your name certainly rings a bell.” His gaze slipped past me and he stood straighter. “Mr. Armitage, sir, would you mind offering your assistance in the matter of Miss Fox. It seems she telephoned ahead and made a reservation, however I have no record of it.”
I turned to see a dashing figure dressed in formal black coat with tails. He was tall with dark hair brushed back off a face that an admirer would call chiseled and a detractor call sharp. I couldn’t imagine he had too many detractors, however. Certainly not of the female variety, and particularly when he gave them his full attention, as he did now to me.
“Miss Fox.” He held out his hand and I shook it. “I’m delighted to meet you. We’ve been expecting you.”
The clerk frowned down at his reservation book again, only to emit a soft “Ah”. He’d realized why my name sounded familiar yet wasn’t in the book. It seemed he’d forgotten about my arrival. Mr. Armitage had not.
“I’m Harry Armitage, the assistant manager. Welcome to The Mayfair Hotel.”
“Thank you. It seems my arrival has confused your staff. I am sorry,” I said to the clerk. “I was about to tell you that I don’t have a reservation because I’ve come to live here, but you summoned Mr. Armitage before I had the chance. I hope you forgive me.”
The clerk blushed again. “Yes, Miss Fox, you are certainly forgiven. In my defense, I’d like to point out that you’re a day early.”
“No, I wrote that I would arrive today, Christmas Eve.”
“I was told Christmas Day.” The clerk’s gaze flicked to Mr. Armitage.
Mr. Armitage signaled for a second porter to join us. “Please inform Mrs. Kettering that Miss Fox has arrived. There appears to have been a mistake and she is a day early.”
“Actually, I’m on time,” I said as the second porter disappeared into the wing of the foyer. “I wrote to my aunt that I would arrive on the twenty-fourth.”
“Your aunt?” the clerk asked. “Lady Bainbridge? Well then.”
I waited for more, but the clerk merely blushed again as Mr. Armitage turned the full force of a stern glare onto him.
“Thank you, Peter, you have a guest waiting,” Mr. Armitage said.
Peter the clerk nodded quickly then turned on his smile for the next guest. I stepped aside so he could serve the newcomer.
Mr. Armitage instructed the tall porter to take my trunk and hat box up to my room. I passed him my bag, feeling somewhat foolish now for refusing to do so outside. It wasn’t going to be stolen in a place like this. The porter headed off with my things, but not to the nearby stairs. He disappeared around the corner at the far end of the foyer. If my things were to be taken up to my room, why did the porter not take the stairs?
“May I offer my deepest condolences on the loss of your grandmother,” Mr. Armitage said.
The warmth in his eyes and voice almost undid me, then and there. I muttered my thanks and quickly looked away, determined not to cry in the middle of the hotel foyer. It helped to change the subject.
“Why did Peter not seem surprised by my aunt’s mistake about my arrival?”
The assistant manager blinked, caught unawares by my question. “I’m very sorry for the mix up. You won’t find us usually so flustered.”