Part 17 (1/2)
Helen licked her thumb and finger, and stretched luxuriously. ”When I'm with you, I forget all the bad stuff that's happened. I even forgot about Wanda for a while just now.”
”And I like seeing you all cosy in my bed, but we can't ignore the outside world.”
”Worst luck.” Her foot stole out from beneath the covers and caressed his thigh.
”Wickedness.”
”Prude.”
He tapped her on the nose. ”I'll see you downstairs.”
”You don't get off that easily.” She pulled a sprig of mistletoe from under the pillow. ”If I don't get a kiss, I'll feel like Wanda stole you, just like she did Paul.”
Rex leaned forward. ”Merry Christmas, Helen.”
”Merry Christmas-Rex.”
He kissed her warm lips, lingered a second, and withdrew. Her eyes smiled at him. He jumped off the bed. ”I'm gone!”
Once on the landing, he continued along the east wing. Hoping the hotel proprietor was still downstairs, he crossed to her suite and entered with a perfunctory knock. The essence of Mrs. Smithings breathed in these rooms. He had not noticed it as much the other night when the cook had been with him. He felt the weight of dread on his heart, as though he had spiraled backward in time and were standing in a forbidden place, his socks rumpling down his s.h.i.+ns, sweat on his palms-fearful of some dire punishment, yet rooted to the spot by something bigger than fear.
By and by, the spell was broken. He pulled himself together, amazed that as a boy he had been intimidated by Dahlia Smithings, a formidable and handsome woman back then, now a frail creature who'd suffered through the deaths of her husband and only child and struggled to hold on to her family home on her own. She no longer held sway over him. The clumsy schoolboy was gone.
The ornamental clock on the mantelpiece pointed to ten. As on his last visit, an eerie, almost sepulchral quiet reigned in her room, everything just as before-except that time can never go back, nor can it stand still.
As Rex pa.s.sed the honeymoon suite on his way back from Mrs. Smithings' rooms, Yvette slipped out the door.
”Charley's out like a light,” she whispered. ”How late were you up talking?”
”All night.”
She drew him away from the suite. ”Did you and Charley have a heart to heart?”
”I suppose so. I remember telling him some of my foolish dreams, at any rate.”
”Did he-did he mention anything in particular? I mean, about us?”
Rex knew better than to volunteer information.
”Oh, I might as well tell you,” she blurted. ”We're going to have a baby.”
”Congratulations.”
”Charley's not happy about it. He's trying to put a brave face on it now, but he was really angry when he found out. I wasn't as careful as I should have been.”
”It takes two to tango. If he was that concerned about a baby, he could have taken precautions himself.”
Yvette's face cleared. ”You're right. You know, when I first saw you, I thought you were a bit of a fuddy-duddy. But you're not like that at all.”
”A fuddy-duddy? I'll have to change my image. I've already been called a prude this morning.”
Yvette giggled as they started down the stairs. ”I can't wait to get home to my mum's to break the news. I just know she's going to be thrilled to death. Oh,” the young woman exclaimed, pausing on the step, ”I suppose we can't say things like that any more. It does sound so flip when you think about it.”
”Aye, but the situation should be resolved shortly.”
When they reached the dining room, Patrick was still at breakfast. Anthony had joined him.
”Morning, morning,” the interior designer said. ”Where are Helen and Charley?”
”Helen will be down in a minute,” Rex replied as Yvette filled her plate at the buffet. ”Charley's still asleep.”
”We all survived the night then,” Anthony remarked. ”And hopefully, we'll make it through the day. I'm avoiding anything that remotely smells of almonds.”
Mrs. Bellows entered the room and placed a dish on a heating tray. ”Just in time for your porridge,” she told Rex.
”Thank you, Mrs. Bellows.” He ladled the steaming oatmeal into a bowl. ”Would you be kind enough to ask the rest of the staff to join the guests in the drawing room at nine thirty?”
She cast him a wary glance. ”Right you are, Mr. Graves.”
”What's happening at nine thirty?” Anthony asked as the cook left.
”The villain will be unmasked,” Patrick said.
”Really?” Anthony turned to Rex. ”Who?”
”Wait and see.”
Yvette stared at the cooked breakfast in front of her. ”I don't think I can eat this.” Upturning her chair in her haste, she ran out of the room.
”What's the matter with her?”
”She's pregnant.”
”Ah.” Anthony spread marmalade on his wheat toast. ”I thought it might be nerves. I'm pretty shaken up myself. After the fire last night, I wouldn't have slept two winks if Patrick hadn't given me some of his Valerian.”
”And two shots of brandy,” Patrick added.
Anthony shook his head. ”I don't know how I got through that bottle so quickly. It was half full just the other day.”
Rex drew his own conclusions from that, but said nothing. All would be revealed soon enough.
___.
Hands clasped behind his back, Rex stood by the mantelpiece in the drawing room, trying to antic.i.p.ate every eventuality that might arise from his revelations. There was no easy way to approach this, he decided.
Patrick and Anthony arrived first.
”Nine twenty,” Anthony said, glancing at his watch. ”We thought we'd bag the best seats. Where should we sit?”
Rex swept his hand around the room. ”Anywhere you wish.”