"Of course not! It's good to see your appetite has returned."
I couldn't help noticing that the food on her own plate was untouched, and she seemed to be in no mood to eat. Then again, given the perils of the day before, perhaps it was to be expected.
The dining room fell silent as I turned to my food, and so it was that I heard the lightest of footsteps approaching. I looked up to see Mrs Fairacre in the doorway, and my heart sank. Surely it was not the police again? But no, it was worse. Far, far worse.
"Roberta, I've laid out the blue skirt for your luncheon, but do you have a preference as to the bonnet?"
"None," said Roberta quietly. "Any will do."
"Very well. But do get changed soon, or you'll be keeping your young man waiting."
Mrs Fairacre departed, and I held my silence for as long as I could. But eventually, I simply had to know. "You have a luncheon?" I asked her lightly. "Is that why you do not eat?"
"Yes, and before you ask, it's with Charles." She smiled weakly. "At least it will be daylight this time."
I knew it wasn't my place, but I could not believe the professor was forcing her to meet the man once more. "Charles is a thorough cad," I muttered. "I'm sorry, but you should tell the professor you refuse to—"
"My father doesn't know," said Roberta quietly. "What's more, I would trouble you not to tell him."
I was taken aback, and it must have showed.
"Charles has promised introductions, and they would mean the world to my father."
"But his behaviour towards you is despicable!"
Roberta smiled at me. "Did you not see me elbow Lord Snetton in the midriff? Do you truly believe a dandy like Charles would get the better of me?"
She had a point, and all of a sudden I felt better. She would play Charles the way she played her father, and would extract from him the utmost without giving up a single thing in return. Then I heard a knock at the door, and my confidence evaporated.
Soon after, Mrs Fairacre returned with Charles. Accompanying them was a liveried footman, with white gloves and a nervous, set-upon manner. I wondered at his presence, for there was no luggage to be carried.
"Roberta, such a delight," said Charles, with an elaborate bow. He was a handsome devil with a lean, tanned face and he carried himself with an air of supreme confidence. Naturally, I detested him on sight. Then, after a sidelong glance at me, he gave Roberta a superior smile. "My dear girl, are you brought so low you must dine with the servants?"
"Mr Jones is in my father's employ," said Roberta.
"Smythe here is in my employ, but you don't see me taking breakfast with the wretched fellow."
At the mention of his name the footman all but cringed. In that moment, I guessed at the horrors of employment with a bully like Charles. But Charles had spotted my valise, and didn't notice his servant's reaction. "My dear Roberta, how perceptive of you!" he cried. "I was going to ask you to pack some things for the weekend, and it seems you anticipated my wishes!"
"Weekend?" said Roberta. "What do you mean, weekend?"
"Why, our suite at the Grande, of course. If we're going to do this thing, we might as well do it in style, what?"
Roberta stared at him, and as I realised what Charles was hinting at I felt a red rage come upon me. Muttering an oath, I pushed my chair back and stood up, ready to wipe the knowing smirk from the man's arrogant face.
"Oh, do tell him to sit down," drawled Charles. "If a servant of mine acted so impudently, I'd thrash him half to death."
My fists were clenched, and I was about to launch myself at him when the professor entered. "What's all this noise?" he demanded. "Can't a man read his morning paper without…" Then, as he noticed Charles, his voice tailed off. "What are you doing here?" he asked coldly.
"I bring introductions, my good man! Friends of mine, good families all, and every one of them requiring your particular… services."
The professor brightened, and he didn't seem to notice the thunderous expression on my face, nor the thoughtful, angry look on Roberta's.
"Now, Roberta and I will be away for the weekend, but I promise that upon our return I shall—"
"You'll be what?" asked the professor, his eyes narrowing. "Did you just suggest that my daughter accompany you like a… a cheap floozy?"
"Come now, we're men of the world," said Charles, with a knowing smile. "She has little else to commend her, but who can resist a little fun now and then?"
I cried out in rage and leapt forward, only for the professor to restrain me. I struggled to break free but he was stronger than I expected.
Charles laughed in my face. "Have patience, my dear fellow! Perhaps the fair Roberta will allow you to dip your wick once I've broken her in."
Unseen by him, Roberta had risen from her chair. Now, very politely, she tapped him on the shoulder. He turned, and as he did so she punched him right in the nose, putting her shoulder behind the blow.
I had witnessed the occasional boxing match in my time, and a heavyweight champ would have been proud to lay such a punch. The unpleasant dandy was thrown clear off his feet, and he fetched up against the nearby wall with a terrible crash. But his woes had not yet ended, for a painting, loosened from its hanger, dropped like a stone, the frame landing across the top of his head with a loud thud.
Dazed, Charles dashed the back of his hand across his face, and it came away bloodied. No wonder, because his nose was bent sideways and was running like a leaky tap.
"Keep your damned money, and tell your stuck-up family they can go to hell!" shouted Roberta, angrier than I'd ever seen her. "My father
