Waters of Oblivion

Chapter 23: The Afternoon Tea

Reine stopped in the middle of the wet sidewalk and turned the hand-written invitation over again. She had no idea what the head of the Order of Westminster would want from her, but she also couldn't ignore the opportunity to finally meet him.

Two days ago, Noor had succeeded in persuading her to quit her job. Leaving her with lots of free time, Reine used it to find out as much about Emery Wescott before Wednesday as she could.

Luckily, the man wasn't shy about publicity. There were plenty of online articles touting his various business deals, but the tall, sixty-something looking man with gray hair and a constant smirk also knew how to enjoy himself. From polo matches to evenings at the opera, Emery Wescott was somehow at every major social event in London.

Sticking the card back in her pocket, Reine saw she was closer to the Savoy than she thought. It was one of the top hotels in the city, and the silver Rolls Royce wedged between two black Range Rovers conspicuously parked in front made it even more conspicuous.

As she approached the entrance, a top hat wearing porter reached to hold the door open while greeting her with a friendly, "Afternoon, Miss."

The interior of the hotel was just as lavish as the taste of its clientele. The simplicity of the black and white checkerboard flooring contrasted well against the lobby's fancy Victorian wallpaper. The bouquet of fresh, purple hydrangeas in the middle of the space also effectively drew Reine's eye to the grand, crystal chandelier above.

"May I help you, Miss?" asked a man, but absorbed by her surroundings, she hadn't even noticed the concierge next to her.

"Oh, I'm sorry," Reine answered as she blinked at the stout man in the snazzy tuxedo. "Yes. I'm supposed to be meeting someone here. Emery Wescott?"

"If you'd follow me this way." He ushered her without question to a side hallway leading to French doors with a discreet, but unambiguous plaque reading "Members Only."

Strategically placed side lamps lit the spacious room, giving it a warm glow. Small clusters of plush chairs and two-person tables sat out of earshot from each other, while a musician in coat and tails softly played the grand piano in the corner.

The concierge handed Reine off to the maître d', who glanced toward a table in the back. "I believe Mr. Wescott is almost done, Miss. He'll be right with you. May I take that for you?" He motioned toward the unused umbrella in her hand.

"No, I'm not staying for long," she said with a smile, hoping he wouldn't consider her rude for saying so.

She'd seen where the head of the Order and his companion were sitting, so while she waited by the door, Reine tried to listen to their discussion. Wescott was facing her, and she could simultaneously read his lips and - thanks to her keen senses - hear the tail end of his conversation.

"Are you sure you won't reconsider the railways contract, then?" Wescott's deep, British accent matched his aristocratic looks.

"I'm afraid that's out of my control, Emery. Besides, our recent upgrades have already raised the safety standards to the highest level in the EU," the man with his back to her replied.

"Well, that's quite a shame. Not about the safety, of course. You can never be too careful when it comes to the lives of our fellow citizens. But at any rate, it's always a pleasure, Lord Mayor." Wescott rose from his seat and extended his hand.

The other reciprocated and quickly took his leave. As he rushed past her, Reine saw what appeared to be a look of relief on his pudgy, middle-aged face.

An expert at his job, the maître d' immediately led her to Wescott's table.

"Miss Baldovini. How lovely that you could make it," he said before, in an antiquated gesture, he kissed her hand.