Like Moths to a Flame by Margaret P.
(With thanks to my betas, Terri Derr and Suzanne Lyte)
Chapter Two (2016—Words: 2,733)
Scott watched Claud Bellingham until the actor reached the first intersection, and then he looked down at what he was wearing. He was a little dusty from the journey. Carrying his saddle bags didn't help, but he guessed Bellingham was mostly referring to his gun belt. He chose to ignore the wink and the comment; actors were known for being provocative. Bellingham was right about The Occidental though; it was the premier hotel in San Francisco and not as relaxed about dress and weapons as its namesake in Green River. Besides, under the circumstances it might be better if his gun wasn't the first thing Katie saw when Scott walked in the room. He detoured to the What Cheer House on Sacramento Street and took a room for the night, checking in his gun belt at the reception desk and sparing a little time to wash, change his shirt, and put on a tie.
When he arrived at The Occidental half an hour later he looked more like a prosperous rancher than a cowhand.
The head waiter approached and bowed politely as Scott entered the dining room. "A table for one, sir, or are you joining friends?"
"I'm looking for Sir Bertram Halford."
"The baronet is one of our guests—I had the pleasure of serving him at breakfast this morning—but he's not in the dining room at present. Perhaps he's lunching in his suite. If you ask at reception, I'm sure they will direct you."
Feeling slightly sick, Scott approached a pin-striped gentleman at the reception desk. Since he and Katie had visited Woodward Gardens, they hadn't really discussed who they'd walked out with previously. Even though he knew she had plenty of admirers in Boston, she'd told him she'd never been seriously interested in anyone. Why was he getting so worked up? Katie was full of surprises, but she'd never given him any reason not to trust her.
"Excuse me, my name is Scott Lancer. I believe Sir Bertram Halford is staying here. Do you know if he's in the hotel at the moment?"
"Ah yes, Mr Lancer. Sir Bertram and his guests returned about an hour ago. He is in the Florentine Suite on the fourth floor. Would you like me to get a bellboy to show you the way?"
"No, thank you, I'll manage."
Scott took the elevator to the fourth floor, sharing it with an elderly lady as far as the third.
She patted him on the hand as she exited. "It's never as bad as you think, young man. Chin up."
He hoped she was right, but dining with a gentleman in his rooms implied a considerable degree of intimacy. The Florentine Suite was along the hall to his right as he left the elevator. He breathed in before raising an already-clenched fist to knock.
"Oh, hello. Look who the cat dragged in!" A clean-shaven Englishman, about twenty-five, with wavy brown hair, bow tie, blue jacket and an owl-shaped pin on his lapel opened the door before Scott's knuckles connected with the panelling.
"Who is it Harry? If it's the waiter again, tell him to go away. We've got everything we need. Miss Eliot and I do not want to be disturbed."
"I don't think he works for the hotel, Bertie." The young man swept a bow to Scott indicating he should come in, and in a lower voice introduced himself. "Harry Wexford, at your service, sir. Your arrival is timely. I was under orders from Miss Eliot to send up a maid to preserve her respectability, but as you look suspiciously like the gentleman in her locket, I will disregard the request. You can all chaperone each other. Sorry, I can't stay and chat, but I have a play to get ready for opening night." Wexford paused for breath and then laughed, "Cheer up. There's still some food left if you're hungry." And with that he stepped out into the hallway and closed the door behind him.
Scott was left standing in a small ante room, which opened to the main salon through an ornate white marble arch. He took off his hat and added it to the stand near the door, then peered into the room beyond.
Katie was seated, reading, at a white-clothed table, framed by a magnificent window, adorned in creamy gold curtains with swags and tails; she looked like one of the paintings in the Boston Athenaeum. Her companion was also reading, and he was the gentleman from the Landau, only now he was reclined full-length on a pale blue silk brocade sofa in his shirt sleeves and with his collar and tie undone. Scott stiffened and stepped into the room.
"Scott!" Katie jumped up and came to greet him, arms outstretched. Her delight at seeing him was the best thing that had happened to him all day. Stupid fool—he should have known there was nothing between her and Halford. But on the other hand, her friend was far too casually attired for dining with a lady.
The gentleman in question peered over the top of the document he was reading and, from his thin-lipped expression, was not as enthusiastic about Scott's unexpected arrival as Katie. He swung his legs to the floor and stood up, re-buttoning his shirt collar and redoing his tie. Then he put on his jacket before approaching.
Katie did the introductions. "Sir Bertram Halford, may I present Mr Scott Lancer."
"Honoured to make your acquaintance, Mr Lancer." Halford offered his hand, but there was no warmth in his voice or his expression.
Scott was similarly cool. "The pleasure is all mine, Sir Bertram." The two men shook hands, but let go quickly.
"Oh, my goodness; what is the matter with you both? I will not allow you to be so formal. You must call each other Bertie and Scott. I insist." Katie beamed between the two of them, and after a moment, they exchanged brief but polite smiles.
"Katie has told me a great deal about you, La—Scott. I understand you raise cattle on land southeast of here?"
"That's right; I share ownership of the ranch with my father and brother. Katie mentioned you accompanied her to various events in England."
"The London season has never been as enjoyable before or since." Halford locked eyes with Katie and gave a slight bow. Even though her arm was through Scott's and not Halford's, Scott did not like the way she smiled back. "I cannot claim as impressive acreage as your ranch, but I have a house in town and a small estate in Leicestershire. If you're ever in England you must visit me. I can offer you some excellent shooting; my gamekeeper assures me my woods are the best stocked in the county." Then with a smirk, he added, "I understand you are a prodigiously fine shot."
Scott forced a small smile and wondered what had been said.
"What are you doing here, Scott? Have you eaten? There's still plenty left; I'll get you some." Katie whisked away before he could answer. Finding a clean plate under the serving trolley, she began to fill it with delicacies. "Sit here by the window."
Halford filled their glasses with champagne and raised his. "To old acquaintance and new."
The next hour was spent in polite conversation as Scott dutifully ate what Katie had given him without tasting it, and the others sampled fresh fruit from a bowl in the centre of the table to keep him company.
"These peaches are delicious." Katie sliced another piece from the whole. She was animated, telling Halford all about the ranch, the people and how much she had enjoyed her visits. She said everything Scott would have wanted to hear in any other circumstances, but clearly they had discussed the ranch and its occupants to some extent before. "Lancer even has palominos running wild in the hills. You remember, I told you Scott's brother rode one. I believe he broke it to the saddle himself soon after coming home to the ranch. Didn't he, Scott?"
"He did. Barranca is a beautiful animal, and Johnny is an excellent rider."
"Almost as good as you." Katie smiled. "Scott served as a lieutenant in the cavalry during the war."
"An unfortunate affair for a growing nation, but all differences are now settled?" Halford looked to Scott for confirmation.
"There are still bruised feelings on both sides of the argument, but yes, America is united again and likely to stay that way." Scott suspected he appeared reserved; the tone of his answers didn't invite further inquiry.
Halford's demeanour was no friendlier. He remained formal throughout, in stark contrast to the way he appeared when Scott first walked in the room. If that weren't bad enough, whenever Scott looked in the baronet's direction, he found himself being appraised by calm green eyes; a cat waiting to pounce on any wrong move. Scott felt like his every comment was being weighed in the balance.
"Are you in California long?" Scott hoped the question sounded casual, even though the sooner the man went back where he came from the happier Scott would be.
"About three months, I expect. Not all in San Francisco. I have a notion to explore the interior a little on my return journey: the Grand Canyon and Yellowstone National Park were recommended to me by some of Katie's relations when I visited Boston on my way here." Halford got up from the table and gazed out the window across the city roof tops. "I came primarily to check on Harry Wexford. I have an interest in his current enterprise as I did in England."
"It is a long way to come to check on an investment, especially one that already has a history of success."
"I'm a cautious man. And I couldn't come later, if I was to make the trip worthwhile in other respects." Halford went to the champagne bucket and poured himself another glass; then he looked around at the others. Katie's glass was almost full, but Scott had drunk most of his. "Another?"
"No, thank you." Scott put his hand over the top of his champagne flute to prevent Halford topping it up. Good champagne was deceptive in its effect. His head would remain clear long after his legs lost their ability to walk straight, and Scott wasn't about to give the baronet the pleasure of seeing him stumble around in front of Katie.
Halford shrugged and returned the bottle to the ice. "There have been one or two questionable reports about Wexford's handling of this particular production. I wished to assure myself of the situation first hand and intervene if required. Besides which…" He strolled over to Katie and lifted her hand to his lips. "San Francisco has other attractions at the moment."
"Oh, stop teasing, Bertie." Katie shooed Halford away with a flick of her hand. Then she picked up her copy of the play from the table and turned towards Scott. "We were reviewing the script for Harry's new play when you arrived. It's called Like Moths to a Flame. Isn't that the most tantalizing title?"
"It's a romantic comedy. Not as good as his last one, I don't think, but I'm satisfied it should fill seats."
"You just don't understand some of the jokes. He has tried to cater for his American audience, and I think he has done very well."
"You would, my dear. You always were one of his most ardent admirers—which is of course why he adores you almost as much as me." A look somewhat like conspiracy flitted between the two friends and Halford blew her a kiss.
Scott could have punched the man.
It wasn't as though he wasn't used to such friendly banter. It was the life blood of the salons of Boston, but maybe he'd been away from that environment too long. The smoothness of Halford—Bertie—and the familiarity that existed between the baronet and Katie irritated the hell out of him.
Katie seemed to read his mood. "You must excuse us, Bertie. Scott has come a long way to talk to me. I think he should escort me home now, and I'll see you tomorrow for supper. My uncle is dining out tonight, but I believe tomorrow is free. I'm sure my aunt will send you a proper invitation in the morning to confirm."
Halford bowed. "Of course, and you and your relatives will be my guests on opening night at the theatre. You must be quite desperate for sophisticated entertainment after a whole month in the country. I don't expect there were many theatres near the Lancer ranch."
Katie laughed. "Sadly, there weren't any at all, but I've been to the theatre twice since I returned to San Francisco. I'm not feeling quite so deprived now."
"I'm sure Wexford will not disappoint." Halford smiled innocently. "Are there many theatres in San Francisco?"
"A few. Nothing in comparison with London. Oh, Scott, you would love London. It's full of theatres and shops and entertainments of every kind. When I first arrived, I thought I had died and gone to heaven."
"Well, if you were dead, my dear, you were a very active angel." Halford chuckled. He raised his champagne glass to the lady, and glanced in Scott's direction. "Katie and my cousin Christabel wore me ragged, Scott. They had me escort them all over town. Hand on heart, the dressmakers of Chelsea cried aloud when Miss Catherine Eliot bid adieu to London and set sail for America."
"Oh, they did not." Katie went as pink as the rose silk and velvet dress she was wearing. It was an outfit Scott didn't recognise; she must have visited a dressmaker as soon as she got back to San Francisco.
"Will you still be in town on Thursday, Scott?" Halford reclaimed his attention.
"Unfortunately, I need to get back. The ranch is busy at this time of year."
Halford bowed and had the decency not to pretend disappointment. He pulled the bell cord for service, and a carriage was ordered. While they waited to be told of its arrival, Katie excused herself to freshen up, and the two men were left alone in each other's company.
Halford strolled over to a cherry wood cigar box on a side table. "I met some old friends of yours back east, Lancer." He opened the box and began examining the selection of cigars inside. He didn't attempt to light one, but no doubt he would when Katie was gone. "Charles Blair and Gerald Lowell."
Already bruised by Katie's enthusiasm for things the ranch could never provide, Scott's heart sank. Of all the men Halford could have met, he had to cross paths with those two. "How are they?"
"Very well. They asked me to pass on their best wishes if I saw you. And…what else? Oh yes, Blair said to thank you. He's now a hundred dollars richer thanks to a small wager. It was apparently a carryover from something that happened between you and Katie shortly before you left Boston. Did you know?"
"If I had, I'd have put a stop to it." Scott gritted his teeth and wished the bellboy announcing the carriage would hurry up.
"Your friends were organizing a party to attend the opening of a new gaming club. They were kind enough to invite me to be one of their number, but unfortunately I had to decline."
"It sounds like they haven't changed much. I thought by now they'd have found better ways to spend their time and money."
"As you have." Halford gave a slight bow. "Nevertheless, I did enjoy hearing about the rollicking escapades you had together before you came to California."
"We had our moments." Scott glanced between the door Katie had gone through and the ante room. Come on.
"By all accounts, you were quite the lothario, Lancer."
Scott swung around. "Is there a point to all this interest in my past, Halford?" He was about to make a few comments of his own when there was a sharp knock on the door. Finally, the carriage was ready.
Katie appeared within a minute of being called, and she and Scott took their leave. Exiting the wide glass doors of The Occidental, Scott breathed in the warm summer air like a soldier escaping court martial.
Notes:
1. This story is number 14 in the Eliot Series and follows Of Mice and Scott Lancer, 2016. It also has links to Circumstances, 2015, and From Highlands to Homecoming, 2015.
2. This story stems from the Lancer TV series created by Samuel A. Peeples and written by him and others. It includes references to events, characters or dialogue mentioned in: The Homecoming (Pilot movie)/ The Highriders, Series 1, Episode 1; Legacy, Series 2, Episode 10; Zee, Series 2, Episode 2.
5. The What Cheer House was a hotel for men only that was opened in 1852 by R.B Woodward. It was destroyed by fire in 1906. It permitted no liquor and housed San Francisco's first free library and first museum.