When he closed the front door behind him, she said uncertainly, “I should move my things from the guest bedroom into your room.”
He yawned hugely. “Don’t worry about it tonight, Sadie, It’s very late and you have to work tomorrow.”
“I didn’t hear Lord Walling say that you have the day off either. Is he your supervisor or the company owner?”
“Supervisor,” Les said, yawning again. “And you are right. I’m off to bed.”
She watched, dumbfounded, as he pulled off his coat and gloves, then set his hat on the newel post leading upstairs. “I must admit I didn’t have time to prepare properly for our wedding night. Could I have a quick bath? I—” she blushed.
He looked at her with those pale gray-blue eyes. Once again, she had the uncomfortable sensation that he was looking through her instead of at her. But then, his expression changed. He came to her and grasped her upper arms.
He smiled boyishly, exposing his perfect teeth, his hair flopping down over his brow. “Darling, I’m still injured. We’re going to have to take this wedding in multiple parts. Tonight the ceremony. We’ll plan a little party with your family soon. And the wedding night will have to wait a bit.”
“It will?” Her heart began to pound uncomfortably.
“You are comfortable in the guest room?”
Tears pricked her eyes. “Of course, but my place is with you now.”
“We have a lot to become used to. You don’t want to listen to my snores quite yet, and I can sleep later in the morning than you can. So let’s be easy on each other.”
“But, Les,” she protested.
“Just for a little while.” He nodded and stepped back, releasing her arms. “You know I’m right. Listen to your husband.”
“You’re supposed to treat me like your wife,” she whispered, feeling so lost.
“I am. This is kindness, darling, truly.”
She blushed furiously. “You weren’t injured down there.”
His lips curved. “You’ll find that a great deal of sexuality comes from here.” He tapped his forehead. “Rather than, err, down there. And where was I injured?”
“Your poor head,” she said dutifully.
He nodded. “Be a good darling and go to bed. I’m sure you are as tired as I am. Write your sister tomorrow and your grandfather, and let’s make plans. You should meet her fiancé, too.”
“Very well,” she said dolefully. Yes, she was tired, but she’d had certain expectations.
“Wonderful. Dinner with a trio of Loudons. I cannot wait.”
“Salter,” she added. “The fiancé’s name is Ivan Salter.”
“Salter isn’t Russian, but Ivan is. Is he part-Russian, part-English like me?”
Sadie shrugged. “I haven’t met him. He works the night shift.”
“Oh? Is he employed at the Grand Russe?”
She nodded, feeling sleepy now that she’d lost the battle for a wedding night. “In Security. Alecia said he’s being promoted but for now he’s working his old hours because his former position hasn’t been filled.”
Les’s gaze wandered away. He’d lost interest in the conversation.
“Well.” She forced a smile. “Time for bed, Mr. Rake.” She lifted herself to her tiptoes and kissed him on the cheek.
“You can do better than that.” He grinned and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her body flush against his. “Mrs. Rake.”
Their lips touched, lingered against each other. Sadie felt the tips of her breasts tighten. She longed to be his wife in truth. But just as she steeled herself to make a pitch on her behalf, he thrust her away and turned.
“Good night, darling. Go straight to bed.”
A couple of seconds later, she heard his bedroom door open and shut. Her wedding night was effectively over. Her eyes filled with tears. She wiped them away, angry at herself. Her cheeks and jaw hurt and her feet were sore and cold.
She sniffed. In the morning, she’d take every shilling from that box on his chest and use the money to buy herself a smart new pair of shoes. A wedding present. She deserved that much. Mrs. Lester Rake, indeed.
* * *
“It has been a week since the bombing attempt. What progress have you made?” Peter Eyre sat behind his desk at the Grand Russe. He pulled his Dunhill lighter from his pocket and offered a Pall Mall cigarette to Detective Inspector Dent of Special Branch.
Dent was about fifteen years older than he was, still handsome, although the lines of cynicism were thickly etched on his forehead. He looked to be in excellent physical condition, and as he waved the cigarette away, Peter remembered he’d promised himself to cut back and take better care of himself. Youth didn’t last long, but there was no reason to shorten it even more by pure foolishness.
“Not smoking, eh?” Peter tossed his lighter in one hand and caught it in the other.
“Mouth feels like an ashtray already.”
“Long day?”
Dent nodded. “Won’t say no to a drink.”
“Very well.” Peter pushed his chair back and went to his drinks cabinet. “Champagne?”
“I’m not one of your Society pals. How about a vodka on the rocks?”
“Vodka, eh? The spirit of the Grand Russe Hotel?”
“Why did your family rename the hotel?” Dent asked. He smirked when Peter turned to him. “Come now, Eyre, not that Eyre is your real name. I’ve been on the case a week now. I’ve learned quite a bit about you.”
“Then you ought to know the hotel was renamed after the famed ballet company.”
“Why?”
“The ballet, The Sleeping Princess, as performed by the Ballets Russes, inspired the redesigned décor.”
“Why?”
Peter dropped ice into the small tumbler and poured the clear liquor, then added a slice of preserved orange peel. “My brother loved ballet.”
“Where is Noel?”
Peter gritted his teeth. “At the East Suffolk and Ipswich Hospital.”
“He was a sniper in the war?”
Peter nodded. “He lost his sight, right at the end of the war. Made it all the way through, almost.”
“A pity. Everything going his way, then this. How old is he now?”
“Let’s see. He was born in 1888. A Christmas infant.”
“Late thirties, then. Waste of a life. Effectively over when he enlisted.”
Peter shrugged. “I expect you want me to say how happy I am to be so much younger, but I’d have fought.”
Dent sneered. “Too soft by half, I’d say.”
“Never,” Peter said. “But I’ve risen to the occasion. After all, my brother has not.”
“He’s blind.”
“Hysterical blindness, not medical.” Peter winced. He shouldn’t have admitted that. His parents would be terribly disappointed. But this was a police detective. Dent would know the truth already.
“They say far more officers broke than enlisted men,” Dent said. “A very strange war. And now, an even stranger war, this issue with Russia.”
“You must think my family courted disaster, naming the hotel as we did.”
“I think it was a mistake,” Dent said candidly. “But now we have to deal with it.”
“What is the latest?”
“We have learned that Ovolensky’s men are hunting for Konstantin. He managed the technical aspects of the attempt to bomb this hotel last week.”
Peter frowned as he made himself a screwdriver. “But Ovolensky is here to lay groundwork for an Anglo-Russian trade conference this spring.”
“Never trust a Russian to be what he claims.” He pulled a folded piece of paper from his pocket. “This is our best approximation of Konstantin’s appearance, but we have yet to spot him.”
Peter glanced over the photo. It could have been any stocky man thirty-five or older with a beard and even he knew that was the easiest part of a disguise to remove. “This is worthless, but Ivan Salter thinks he saw Konstantin again yesterday. They
met once.”
“Where did he see him?”
“In the hotel. The Coffee Room. Just before eight in the morning when his shift ends.”
Dent swore. “And you didn’t think to tell us?”
“He wasn’t sure.”
“Bloody hell, man, do you want Konstantin to finish the job and level this place?”
Peter frowned. “Does Special Branch or the Secret Intelligence Service have eyes and ears in the hotel?”
“I can’t answer that.”
“Surely I have a right to know. If I knew who your man was, I could quietly tell him when there is a suspicion and have it handled immediately. We could have nabbed the maybe-Konstantin right away.” He paused. “I’m sure you’ve done your best to recruit Ivan Salter. He didn’t report in?”
Dent didn’t answer.
Peter reached for a fresh cigarette. “Salter himself is suspicious that one of our night watchmen, Tim Swankle, is more than he seems.”
Dent took a sip of his drink and shifted in his chair.
“The problem is,” Peter continued, “that they are all new. The hotel only reopened in December. I don’t have a lot to go on.”
“It’s not your business to know who we might have in place,” Dent said, setting down his glass after one sip. “I’m sorry. I’ll be in touch.”
He walked out. Peter tossed the contents of his own drink down his throat, feeling the burn and the outrage. How was he supposed to keep his hotel, employees, and customers safe with no information? He had the distinct feeling that the Metropolitan Police didn’t trust him.
Chapter Nine
Les’s eyes burned as he sat up in bed early the morning after his wedding night. His first day as a “married” man and he’d been awake all night, for the wrong reasons. Thoughts of his virgin bride tormented him, but he couldn’t take advantage of what she so freely offered to her new husband. The betrayal would be more than even he could stand. He couldn’t repeat his father’s mistakes. Honoring his mother’s memory meant choosing to treat Sadie differently.
When he heard doors open and close, he ducked into the bathroom and shaved, then dressed. Sadie was still in the kitchen when he went in.
“You’re up early.” She sat at the table, eating buttered toast. “Didn’t you sleep well?”
He heard the chill beneath her words. “I thought I might take you to work.”
“Why?”
“Newsstands around the park. I’d be back in my supervisor’s good graces if I sold our magazines into those.”
She nodded. “Have you thought about making an actual sales plan?”
He sat across from her, drinking in the sight of her creamy skin and full lips. Hardening instantaneously, he knew himself for a sentimental fool. He could have spent the night with her, and she’d have been grateful. Sleeping with her would have been better for his cover besides. “What do you mean?”
“You seem to go where the wind blows. I know you’re a gifted salesman. If you were systematic about it, you might be truly successful, even be promoted into management of your company.”
He grinned. “Less than fifteen hours of marriage and you’re already ambitious for me?”
“You know I can’t be a chambermaid forever. The babies will come, when you’re feeling better.” She glanced down at her toast, blushing.
“No child bride you,” he muttered. “There’s a clever mind behind that pretty face.”
She kept her eyes on her toast, making her impossible to read, but he saw the little clench of her shoulders. She hadn’t liked what he said. Why? Because he’d seen the real her, or because she’d taken it as an insult?
He pushed back from the table. “We should go.”
“Are you going to come in?” she asked.
“Why not? All your unmarried colleagues ought to know you aren’t a spinster anymore.”
She nodded. “As you wish. I left my shoes downstairs. I look forward to meeting the neighbors too, now that I can flash my wedding ring.”
He hadn’t realized she’d been feeling self-conscious. Another crime. He put on his coat while she buckled her shoes, noting the leather was worn on the tips and she winced when she backed her right heel into the shoe. “You need different shoes.”
“I know.”
While she put on her coat, he went into his bedroom and found a stash of pound notes taped to the underside of his sock drawer. He pulled back the tape and peeled off two notes, then put everything back the way it was and returned to the hallway.
“Here,” he said, thrusting the notes at her. “Buy yourself new shoes after work.”
She stared at the notes. “I can buy shoes for half that.”
“Two pair, then, but buy something very comfortable. You have to be on your feet all day.”
“When I’m not on my knees.” She sighed as she pulled on her gloves.
Sadie had no idea how crazy she was making him. On her knees, indeed.
He kept his gaze fixed out of the window during the taxicab ride to the hotel, and was pleased when she took him through the basement staff entrance without comment. Knowing the layout of the hotel might come in handy one day. The basement level was what he expected of any large business, dank and poorly lit.
“The original bathrooms are that way. Can you imagine? Only four, in the basement no less, for the entire hotel?”
“At least you don’t have to worry about chamber pots these days.”
“Yes, we do, on the lower floors.” She shuddered as they walked down the dim passage. “The staff lounge is in here.”
They walked into a bustling space full of women in dark dresses, hanging coats on pegs. The space wasn’t decorated with anything much, just old furniture and a cork board with notices.
A tall and slim blonde with a very regal carriage crossed her arms over her chest when she saw them enter. Sadie smiled at her tentatively and pulled Les along with her.
“Olga, this is my new husband, Lester Rake. Les, Miss Novikov is in charge of the chambermaids.”
“Novikov?” Les frowned. He knew that name. Aristocratic. “You must have a title, Miss Novikov. I am partly Russian myself.”
“In Russia I was called Her Serene Highness,” she said with a nod. “But those days are over now.”
Her accent was rather slight. She had been well educated, despite the turmoil during her youth. He thought her about his age, definitely older than Sadie. Her face had no lines, but her eyes held stories.
“May I call you Your Serene Highness?” he asked.
Her upper lip curled. “Not even if we were in Russia. It could get me killed.”
“Of course, Miss Novikov,” he said. “We wouldn’t want that.” At least she was unlikely to be sympathetic to Bolsheviks.
“Who were your people in Russia?”
“I am a Dragunov.”
“I do not believe I ever knew anyone with that name.”
“Not a distinguished lineage,” he admitted. “Wheelwrights and other skilled laborers.”
“Good with their hands, your people?”
“Yes.” He forced a smile. “How I ended up in sales I’ll never know.”
“Your parents?”
“Deceased.” He put his hand on Sadie’s shoulder. “I’m all alone in the world. I am so very lucky to have found my Sadie.”
“Such a precipitous marriage,” she commented.
“I’m sure you are aware of our living arrangements. I could not subject my darling girl to censure. She’s much too respectable for that.”
Olga made a noncommittal noise. “Her shift commences in one minute. Unless you are here to give her notice.”
“Not at all,” he said with a smile. “I travel for work and she’s new to London. I am hoping her position will give her the opportunity to make friends.”
Olga’s eyelids lowered, giving her a superior air. “I see. We are not especially close here. The hotel has not been open for long.”
Les forced enthusias
m he didn’t feel into his voice. “Then she is in at the start. Very exciting.”
“Yes, well.” Olga’s gaze wandered somewhere over his right shoulder.
He turned to Sadie and kissed her cheek. “Have a wonderful day, darling, and remember to buy shoes. Don’t worry about dinner for me.”
“You won’t be home?”
“I’ll manage if you are not home,” he said. “Perhaps Miss Novikov would like to shop with you and you will eat with her.”
Olga glanced between the two of them, and Les realized he’d pushed it too far. A newlywed man wouldn’t be encouraging his wife of one day to dine with another woman.
“I’ll probably be asleep,” he backpedaled. “My injuries have kept me rather low, of late.”
“I am sorry to hear that,” Olga said in a disinterested manner.
The clock chimed. All of the women scurried through the door as their shift began.
“Do you know the way out?” Sadie asked.
He smiled. “Don’t you worry about me.” He kept his gaze on her just in case she turned around, the portrait of an adoring husband, and watched the last of the women depart. For a moment he was alone, but any minute there might be an influx of people leaving from the previous shift.
Olga was very suspicious of him. Was she protective of all the chambermaids, or did she have a specific issue with their situation? Perhaps she was merely a jealous virgin. Les knew he was an attractive man who was good with women. It was a part of spycraft. But since he’d chosen a partner, for now at least, he had to be careful with his behavior. He wasn’t used to this new role. The Kozyrevs had a lot to answer for. He wished for a moment that he was still focused on infiltrating the labor movement, rather than this London mess.
For certain, he wasn’t going to be allowed to hang about the Grand Russe like some kind of stage-door Johnnie. Sadie would expect him to be at work and Olga would be generally suspicious. He’d even have to leave town for days on end for his cover. Did Glass know what kind of complication he’d created in Les’s life with this arrangement?
Les made a quick circuit of the staff lounge, then prowled around the basement, thoroughly mapping the space for himself. He noted all of the exits and entrances, stairs and elevators, nooks and crannies. Then, he went upstairs, curious to see if he’d be noticed coming out of the staff staircase on to the main floor.
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