A Woman About Town (Fox & Oakby Murder Mysteries Book IV)

The Mayor Puts His Foot in His Mouth

Author's Note: I drew Lady Anna Rosenfeld-Bjornsson. If you want to see more of my doodles , head to my Instagram https://www.instagram.com/kkolmakov/. You can support my art on Buy Me a Coffee: https://buymeacoffee.com/katyakolmakov

If you're interested in Niklas and Anna's story, it's titled Every Bookshop Needs a Cat - and it's updated almost every day.

Thank you!

Love,

K. xx

***

"Ms. Fox. Mr. Mayor," the baronet said, rubbing the back of his neck with the towel. "I'm awfully sorry for my dishevelled state. I must have had my schedule mixed up."

"Sir Niklas," the Mayor greeted the red-haired man and shook his hand. "You haven't. It's a surprise visit. We apologise for imposing."

Imogen was grateful for the Mayor taking the initiative. She was still feeling rather dazed.

"Nonsense! There's no imposition!" The man chuckled charmingly. "Besides the sheer pleasure of your company, I welcome an excuse to slack on my exercises."

Mattsson, the valet, materialised next to the baronet's right elbow and smoothly passed a mobile into Bjornsson's hand. The latter glanced at it almost unnoticeably, and Imogen assumed that there was a text from his wife regarding their visit there.

"Would you give me just a few minutes to freshen up?" he asked, flashing them another brilliant smile. "Nada will take you to the Spruce Sitting Room."

The man gave them a decorous nod and strode away, followed by his valet.

The sitting room's interior was set in deep purple and green. Nada excused herself, mentioning Lady Bjornsson's many appointments; and they'd only just sat down on a settee when a maid showed up with a tea trolley. She quickly arranged the dishes on a low mahogany table in front of them and vanished silently. Imogen had never had the privilege of eating in the Serpent's Nest, except for sampling a few dishes during their initial meeting with the manager regarding their wedding. The view of the three-tier cake stand on the trolley made her mouth water.

Bjornsson came surprisingly quickly. He had 'freshened up' so successfully that one wouldn't be able to guess that just a few minutes ago the man looked like a 90's ad for an eau de cologne. Imogen truly envied those who could look put together and stylish, even in the simplest clothes, seemingly having put little to no effort into their appearance. She assumed it just came with breeding. A mere mortal wouldn't look that pulchritudinous in a white button-up, a pink lambswool V-neck jumper, navy blue chinos, and taupe suede shoes.

"Oh goodness me, our dearest Dr. Holyoake will have my head," he said with a boisterous laugh and snatched some sort of a bread roll off a plate. "I was told to watch my blood sugar after the surgery, but I can never resist Anna's bath buns." He broke the bun and smeared a generous amount of butter on it. "You should try them! They were Jane Austen's favourite."

Imogen stared at him bewildered.

"Shall I be mother?" the Mayor asked, and the baronet hummed enthusiastically, having chomped off a giant piece of his cob.

Imogen decided if someone with a nobiles majores title allowed himself such liberties, it was surely alright to enjoy a pastry that the beloved author was fond of, all high tea etiquette be damned.

"Oh goodness me, this is delicious!" she exclaimed a few seconds later.

"Right?! The woman's a wizard with flour, fat, and salt!" Bjornsson sing-songed and drank half of the content of his dainty china cup in one gulp. "She bakes when she's stressed. Apparently it helps her reset. I'm afraid I'm in danger of gaining a 'Slavic newlywed belly,'" he laughed, patting his flat stomach. "It's all the baking and home cooking. An average Eastern European man gains up to 3.4 stones of weight in the first two years after the wedding."