Murder at the Mayfair Hotel (Cleopatra Fox Mysteries #1)- C.J. Archer Page 0,34

I must be prepared for the eventuality and act swiftly to divert a disaster.”

“By disaster, you mean the wife meeting the mistress on the arm of her husband.”

“You catch on quickly, Miss Fox.”

I narrowed my gaze. He was mocking me. He must think me terribly naïve not to have realized she was the count’s mistress. I even knew that only two types of women smoked and that lovely creature didn’t strike me as a proponent for the female cause. But she didn’t look like a prostitute, either. I’d only ever seen them slouched in tavern doorways, their clothing half-off and their faces painted. Admittedly, my experience was limited to a single accidental adventure into a Cambridge slum when I’d taken a wrong turn on my way to meet a friend after a lecture.

“Will you accept a friendly word of caution, Miss Fox?” he asked.

I didn’t expect a friendly word. I expected a scolding, but I didn’t want to get Mr. Armitage off-side. Not yet. Not until I knew whether he was involved in the murder or not. “Go on.”

“The reason I told you about Count Ivanov’s mistress is because the niece of the hotel owner shouldn’t be seen smoking in public or people will think you’re like her. If you must do it, reserve it for the privacy of your own rooms and swear your maid to secrecy. Sir Ronald would not approve of you doing it in the hotel’s smoking room where anyone could see.”

“Then perhaps you ought to put a sign on the door: women not allowed; mistresses excepting.”

He took a small step back. “You’re angry with me. I’m sorry. I was trying to help. I thought you might appreciate some advice from someone who knows what Sir Ronald is like.” He gave me a curt bow. “I apologize.”

I sighed as he stalked off. This wasn’t going at all well. I was supposed to be obtaining information from him. I hurried after him. “Mr. Armitage, thank you for your advice. It is appreciated.”

He stopped and eyed me carefully. He looked uncertain.

“I thought I would try something new,” I went on. “I’ve never smoked before and Mr. Hookly was kind enough to give me a cigarette. Now that I’ve done it, I doubt I’ll try again. I didn’t enjoy it. How do you men like it so much?”

“I don’t smoke.”

“Does Mr. Hookly smoke every evening before dinner?”

“Before and after.” He was still rather formal and stiff, and I wasn’t sure how to make him relax and encourage him to talk. At least he didn’t walk off again.

“He’s an interesting fellow,” I went on. “He recently returned from Africa.”

“Southern Africa, so he told me.”

“Where he sold a mine, yes. What do you know about the man whose letter of recommendation he carries?”

“Lord Addlington? He’s a regular guest when parliament sits. A very fine gentleman and well respected around here.” He bid me a good evening, and went to walk off, but stopped suddenly. “Your uncle would have gladly introduced you to Mr. Hookly if you’d asked.”

It was my turn to take a step back. I was about to ask him why I’d want my uncle to introduce me to Mr. Hookly when I suddenly realized that Mr. Armitage thought I was romantically interested in the African miner. Asking for an introduction would certainly have been a more respectable way to go about orchestrating an encounter instead of following him into the smoking room.

It was a rather horrifying notion that Mr. Armitage thought I was interested in Mr. Hookly and not in a way that required a respectable introduction. He must think I was hunting for a wealthy benefactor, someone who’d parade me in jewels at luxury hotels while his wife stayed home.

I watched Mr. Armitage leave, a storm of feelings brewing inside my chest. I wasn’t sure whether to feel ashamed or annoyed. After all, he’d made his mind up about me after knowing almost nothing about me.

One thing I was sure of, however. I wouldn’t get more answers out of Mr. Armitage. If he hadn’t been inclined to trust me before, he certainly wasn’t now.

Chapter 5

It was Flossy who encouraged me to dine in the hotel dining room instead of in my suite alone. I sat with her as she prepared for her evening out. Three hours later, I could see why it took her so long to get ready. Her maid arranged Flossy’s hair in three different styles, each more elaborate than the last, before Flossy settled on