Page 14 of Is This Real or Just Pretend?

The next morning, after a good long sleep and a hearty breakfast of boiled eggs, toast, and the most delicious strawberry jam, Lucien felt restored.

As his jacket and trousers were still a touch damp, Alain insisted he borrow a brown town suit.

They weren’t exactly the same size, as Lucien was a bit taller.

Even still, it fit far better than anything he had ever worn before.

“And was this a castoff from the hotel’s designer as well?” he quipped.

Alain shot him a sly smile as he smoothed the back of the jacket.

“ Non . But I do have a good friend who works for a tailor on Savile Row. And sometimes gentlemen do not pick up their wares and I can get them for much less. They are still outrageously expensive, mind you, but I would sacrifice much more for excellent tailoring.”

As Lucien looked at his reflection in the floor-length mirror, he could understand the reasoning.

“Now hurry up,” Alain said with a clap of his hands. “I am done playing valet. There is a grand duchess checking in today and I need to make sure her room is filled with fresh-cut roses beforehand or else she will be very put out.”

“Good lord. That almost makes me miss the list of demands we would get ahead of our private events.” He and Rene hadn’t held very many of those, but they were a good moneymaker when funds were short—as well as a massive headache.

He didn’t know how Alain could stand catering to the ridiculous demands of the very wealthy all day long.

“Keep that up and I’ll bring you to work with me,” he threatened.

“All right, all right.” Lucien raised his hands with a smile. “I’m going.”

Before Alain left for the hotel, he patiently explained the best route to take to get to the Atkinsons’ office and even drew up a little map. And for a short while, it worked.

Lucien left the flat with plenty of time and made it to the station but was then hustled onto the wrong omnibus by a hoard of impatient passengers, and when he managed to push his way off and board the right one, it broke an axle.

Lucien then gave up on London’s transportation system and decided to walk the rest of the way.

However, once he reached the narrow streets of the City, his progress slowed to a glacial pace.

Lucien tried his best to weave through the office workers filling the pavement but it was of little use.

He would be late for his appointment with Alex.

And she was not the kind of woman one wanted to keep waiting.

He let out a sigh of defeat and fell in step behind two men in nearly identical black suits and matching bowler hats.

As much as he lamented his current precarious state of unemployment, the thought of being another cog trudging off to the same office every day to push papers or add numbers for some faceless owner who reaped most of the profits was even worse.

Lucien had loved the satisfaction of running his own business, albeit with a partner.

He had met Rene in culinary school, where they both discovered their knife skills were sorely lacking and their tolerance for the insanity of a professional kitchen nonexistent.

When Lucien mentioned the idea of running a private supper club that changed locations and themes each week, Rene’s enthusiasm for the idea gave him the push he needed.

And Rene was happy to let Lucien take the lead and enact his vision, while he stayed behind the scenes and kept the books.

For the first time in his life, Lucien found something he was good at—or so he had thought.

It turned out that having Lucien act as the face and brains behind the business had been an excellent distraction while Rene robbed him blind before running off with Madame Deveraux, the wife of one of their investors.

But because that wasn’t nearly enough duplicitous behavior for one man, shortly before the business collapsed, Rene had spread the word to customers and their other investors that it was actually Lucien who had been embezzling, but that, if they gave their money directly to Rene, he would reopen the supper club.

Instead, he had taken the entire lot and absconded to the Riviera, leaving Lucien to deal with their creditors and swindled customers.

When Lucien eventually managed to sort everything out, he had been left with next to nothing.

What a waste it all had been.

As the familiar taste of bitter regret began to fill Lucien’s mouth, Alex’s stern voice echoed in his mind:

Pity doesn’t suit you.

No. And he was so bloody tired of going over the past. Of ruminating over things he hadn’t done and certainly couldn’t fix now.

Lucien wouldn’t let it define him. He couldn’t.

Just then he spotted Atkinson Enterprises up ahead, and he moved a little faster.

This was his chance. And he wouldn’t let anything stop him.

Not a broken-down omnibus or an unfamiliar metropolis or even the assured disapproval of a slightly terrifying woman.

But as he entered the lobby, Lucien stopped short and took a breath.

It was cavernous, with marble floors and gold accents that brought to mind a particularly ostentatious Catholic church.

Lucien was so busy marveling at the architectural details that he barely noticed the secretary right in front of him until she loudly cleared her throat.

“May I help you, sir?”

He snapped to attention and smiled at the young lady. “Yes, sorry. I have a meeting with Miss Atkinson. I’m Lucien Taylor.”

She scanned a sheet of paper on her desk and then pointed down a hall. “Take the stairs to the third floor.”

He nodded politely and followed her instructions while still taking in glimpses of the impressive, imposing space. A trio of smartly dressed men were just ahead of him on the stairs and in the middle of a hushed conversation that sounded rather dire.

“I was here ’til all hours last night,” one lamented.

“Did you make any progress?” another asked.

The third snorted. “That is for her to decide.”

Then they all fell into a gloomy silence as they appeared to ponder this while Lucien hung back a bit to make his eavesdropping less noticeable.

But the men were too consumed by their thoughts to pay him any mind as they all trudged up the stairs and disappeared through an entryway that led to the third floor. Could they be talking about Alex?

I have even heard whispers that she is actually behind his greatest successes.

Though Lucien had readily supported the idea, in truth he didn’t exactly know what Alex did here. When he mentioned this visit to his father, he had been surprisingly dismissive.

Do you know she goes in every morning at eight sharp? And most days she doesn’t leave ’til half six. Even her father doesn’t keep those hours.

Lucien had raised an eyebrow. You think she isn’t really doing any work?

Well, I know she’s clever for a lady and all, but come now, he said. I’ve heard it’s just a lark. Something to keep her busy since she has no real marriage prospects. Then his eyes widened. Oh . Sorry, Lucien. I didn’t mean—

It’s fine, he said quickly, not wanting to say any more about this courtship than necessary.

But if any lady could have a head for business , his father began. I’d say it’d be her.

Lucien couldn’t help smiling as he pictured Alex’s barely veiled contempt at such a backhanded compliment.

But his father was hardly an outlier, as most people held the same opinion.

And if someone had asked Lucien a week before, he might have even made the same assumption.

Now, though, he wasn’t so certain. Alex was clearly competent— terrifyingly so—but the world of business was still largely the domain of men.

Once in a while a woman managed to breach its walls, but not without snide whispers undermining her accomplishments.

Perhaps that is the case here.

Lucien’s stomach tightened as he reached the third-floor landing and moved down the hall.

Time to find out. This floor was even nicer than the lobby, with fine Turkish carpeting in tones of red and blue and walls papered in matching red brocade.

Golden wall sconces with electric light gave off a warm, sumptuous glow.

But unlike the churchly feeling of the lobby, the atmosphere was far more bustling up here, with people flitting back and forth.

Raucous laughter could even be heard from a nearby room.

Lucien managed to flag down a passing woman.

“Excuse me, I’m looking for Miss Atkinson’s office.”

“Round that corner and at the end of the hall,” she replied briskly, pointing behind her. “You’ll see her secretary, Mr. Potts.”

A male secretary? Interesting.

Lucien thanked her and continued on. This part of the floor was a little quieter and he passed an office with a gold-plated sign bearing Mr. Atkinson’s name and title.

Farther down at the end of the hall, a pale, thin-faced man in spectacles sat behind a desk.

As Lucien approached, Mr. Potts paid him no attention.

His fine blonde hair was combed and parted to the side and he was frowning down at a piece of paper, pen in hand.

After a moment, Lucien cleared his throat and Mr. Potts glanced up momentarily before returning his gaze to the paper.

“And you are?” he drawled in a voice laced with disapproval.

Lucien suddenly felt like a naughty schoolboy in front of the headmaster. “Lucien Taylor. I have an appointment with Miss Atkinson.”

Mr. Potts finally looked directly at him and his frown deepened. “You’re late.”

“Yes, I—I’m very sorry about that,” Lucien stammered, “but I—”

“You’ll need to wait,” Mr. Potts said and flipped through an appointment book. “Miss Atkinson is extremely busy this morning and doesn’t have time for you at the moment.”

Lucien blinked. “Of course.”

The man gestured to a chair against the wall and Lucien obediently took a seat. Alex’s office door was closed and he couldn’t tell if she was in there with someone.

After a moment, Lucien leaned forward. “Do you know when she might have time to meet with me?”

Mr. Potts cast him an arch look. “No.”

Lucien blew out a breath and sat back in the chair. Surely she had some time available this morning to see him. If only so he could explain his lateness.

Fifteen excruciating minutes passed, and just as Lucien was considering getting up to stretch, the office door swung open and two men he recognized from the stairs walked out looking defeated.

“There now, Perkins. Good show,” one said, clapping a hand on the other man’s shoulder. “Better luck next time.”

But Perkins could only manage a weak nod as he stared off into the middle distance with a vacant expression.

As the men passed down the hall, Lucien craned his neck to catch a glimpse of Alex just as Mr. Potts entered the office and blocked his view. He shot Lucien a glance as he closed the door behind him.

All right. Now he would see her. Lucien straightened his jacket and adjusted his cuffs in preparation.

Another few minutes passed before the door finally opened.

Lucien rose, but just as Mr. Potts exited the office, another man came rushing down the hall.

They nodded at each other and he slipped into the room, closing the door soundly behind him.

Lucien cast a bewildered look at Mr. Potts. This time he smiled and shrugged before taking his seat behind the desk.

“Should I come back later?”

Mr. Potts arched a brow. “Do you have somewhere you need to be?”

“Well, not right at the moment,” Lucien said, trying to look at least a little important.

“Miss Atkinson should be able to see you after her meeting with Mr. Farnsworth.”

“Oh. If that doesn’t take too long, I should be able to manage,” Lucien replied airily, but Mr. Potts did not look the least bit convinced that he had any other pressing engagements.

Another quarter hour passed before the door opened again. Somehow this Mr. Farnsworth looked even more devastated than the other two. He trudged down the hall staring at the floor and muttering to himself. What on earth happened in there?

Just as Lucien began to rise, Mr. Potts nipped in yet again and shut the door behind him. This was getting ridiculous.

When Mr. Potts finally exited the office, Lucien stood and put his hands on his hips. “Now listen here. I can’t be kept waiting all—”

But the rest of his little rant was lost as Alex herself appeared in the doorway.

“My apologies, Mr. Taylor,” she said smoothly. “I didn’t mean to keep you from your business. Do you still have time to meet?”

She held his gaze, one dark brow arched, and Lucien could feel the blush staining his cheeks.

“Ah, yes. For a little while,” he added.

Alex looked amused. She very well knew that was a lie, but instead of calling him out, she simply gestured for him to enter. “Then please do come in.”

As Lucien passed Mr. Potts, they exchanged glares. The nosy secretary then hovered in the doorway.

“Would you like me to take notes, Miss Atkinson?”

“That won’t be necessary.”

Lucien smiled at the man and then promptly closed the door in his face.