Read 100. A Rose In Jeopardy for Free Online Page B

play.”
    Mrs. Dawkins nodded and curtseyed, but her grey eyes were full of anxiety as she and Rosella silently left the drawing room.
    “ Brandy, Brandy, Brandy !” Pickle shouted out, as Rosella carried him up the stairs. “ You’re a very naughty boy ! Give me some cake !”
    “Hush, you bad bird,” she whispered, “I don’t think there’ll be any cake for you today.”
    She would have to go back into the drawing room to fetch it and she would do anything rather than face Lord Brockley and his friend again.
    From now on, she would keep Pickle in her room, for he would come to harm, she was sure, if he caused any more trouble.
    Her life at New Hall was certainly going to be very different now that its new owner had taken up residence.
    *
    The sun had just gone down and a cool breeze was blowing along Piccadilly as Lord Lyndon Brockley strolled along the wide pavement.
    The long black cloak swirled around his ankles and the big hat was pulled well down over his forehead.
    It was daring of him to come here, but who could possibly recognise him in this Bohemian get-up?
    If any of his old school-friends or, worse, any of his Papa’s dissolute drinking and gambling associates were to bump into him, they would think he was an eccentric actor, strolling off to an engagement at one of the theatres.
    Or perhaps a musician, like Signore Goldoni, the original owner of the cloak and hat – heading to a café to play to the assembled diners.
    An enticing scent of coffee and newly-baked cakes wafted across the pavement from the open windows of one of the tall hotels that lined the pavement.
    He had not eaten anything since a hurried breakfast at the inn where he was staying down by the docks and he knew how good the fare was at this particular hotel as he had sampled it many times in the past.
    Why should he not go in and sit down at one of the tables and celebrate the ingenious disguise he had found?
    It was a daring thought and he longed to carry it out, but he would have to take the hat off once he was inside and that would be too risky.
    “Sir?”
    The hotel doorman had seen him lingering and was looking at him suspiciously.
    ‘Oh, what the hell! Why not go for it?’
    Lyndon took a deep breath and replied, keeping his voice low and adding a slight Mediterranean accent.
    “I should like to take some coffee, but I must have a quiet table as I don’t wish to be disturbed.”
    The doorman, who had ushered both Lord Lyndon Brockley and a party of his friends into the hotel only last month, hesitated a moment, as if he was not sure whether this strangely-garbed person should be allowed into such a respectable hotel and then he answered,
    “Of course, sir. May I take your hat and er – coat?”
    Lyndon shook his head and then was inspired to say in the same accent,
    “I must keep them with me. I have been unwell.”
    The doorman raised his eyebrows.
    “Yes. I have recently come from a hot climate and I must not take cold, particularly to the head.”
    “Of course, sir,” the doorman nodded. “India, was it? We will find you a nice quiet corner, sir.”
    Lyndon’s heart beat jubilantly as he walked across the marble floor of the hotel lobby. His ruse had worked and, what was more, the doorman had not recognised him.
    The hotel café was almost empty as Lyndon settled himself at a small table, which was partly hidden by a large palm tree and ordered some food.
    As he ate, several groups of other diners arrived, and, by the time he was drinking his coffee, the café was almost full.
    It felt good to be in the middle of so much noise and activity with all these people out enjoying themselves, even though Lyndon had to keep himself apart.
    But something was making him feel uneasy. There was one voice amongst all the shouts and the laughter that kept nagging at his attention.
    A high clear girl’s voice, as sweet and melodious as a flute, rang out from a table not too far away,
    “Champagne! Julius, you really are too