“Since a comfortable hotel in London is as rare as hen’s teeth and therefore not the least bit ordinary, the Savoy will hardly lose money by following that example. In fact, if we don’t make a far greater profit as a result of my efforts, I will be quite disappointed. The board will remove me from my position for it, and deservedly so.”
“Profit, profit, the almighty profit,” she muttered. “Is that the god you worship, Lord Calderon?”
“I save worship for church, Lady Stratham,” he shot back, his patience at an end. “As for the Savoy, I’m not instituting these policies so the shareholders can lose money, that’s certain. So I suggest you find a way to work within the budget constraints I’ve outlined or find ways to bring in additional revenue. It is that simple.”
“It’s not simple at all! As I’ve already tried to explain, your policies will cause us to lose the aristocratic clientele, and without that, the Savoy will cease to have that air of refinement that has always made it so extraordinary.”
“Refinement?” he echoed, unable to hide his scorn for that concept. “So we should give things for free to people who can well afford to pay for them merely for the sake of aristocratic privilege? I supposeit’s not surprising that you feel that way. You’re a countess, after all. I can see why you think the titled deserve special privileges because of the fortunate happenstance of their birth.”
“Are you…” She paused, her voice failing as her eyes narrowed with anger. “Are you calling me a snob, Lord Calderon?”
He shrugged. “Are you?”
“How dare you?” She jumped to her feet, glaring at him. “I am not a snob, and no one, by God, has ever accused me of being one.”
“Perhaps I dare because no one else ever has? Not that I blame them, of course,” he went on, ignoring her splutter of outrage as he also stood up. “Given your upbringing and powerful position, who would say it to your face?”
“You would, apparently, since tact seems to be an alien concept for you. If you converse with our aristocratic clients in the same odious way you speak to me, they’ll all take their business to Brown’s or the Bristol and we’ll be broke in six months. And,” she added as he opened his mouth to reply, “your conclusions about me are without any basis in fact. You do not know me, nor anything about me, nor have you bothered to ask the opinions of others about my character. If you had done so, you would never have made such an accusation. Your opinion of me—and, in fact, this entire conversation—demonstrates with painful clarity that I cannot possibly work under you.”
Simon couldn’t help feeling relieved. The last thing he needed was an uncooperative termagant under his supervision, however lovely she might be to look at. “Very well,” he said imperturbably. “As I’ve said, you can no longer be under Ritz’s supervision, but if you can’t work for me, I’d be quite happy to put Helen in charge of you.”
“Helen?” She stared at him, the anger in her countenance turning to horror at the mention of the Savoy founder’s wife. “You don’t mean Helen Carte?”
“The very same. Her husband is ill, and she has been taking onmany of his tasks. She is the perfect person to be in charge of you, if you don’t wish to work for me.”
“But the woman loathes me.”
“Really?” he drawled in pretended surprise. “I can’t imagine why.”
The sarcasm was not lost on her. “Helen is arrogant, judgmental, and impossible to work with. A lot like you, in fact.”
“If by that you mean she is sensible, frugal, and understands the importance of solvency to an enterprise’s success, then yes, she and I are alike.”
“Frugal? Helen’s so tight with money, if she dropped a shilling down a rabbit hole, she’d dig up the field to find it. But in making the comparison, I was thinking of her obsessive pettifogging, desperate need for control, and lack of trust in the staff to know best how to do their jobs.”
That description flicked Simon on the raw, but he refused to be sidetracked by it. “Then it seems your only other choice is to resign.”
At the throwing down of that particular gauntlet, her shoulders went back and her eyes narrowed. “If you think you shall rid yourself of me that easily, Lord Calderon, you’d best think again.”
“Indeed? Then I expect you to comply fully with the conditions I have laid down. If you cannot, I shall expect your resignation. Do I make myself clear?”
“Quite clear, thank you.” Snatching the sheets off his desk, she turned away, heading for the door between their offices without a backward glance, her hips swaying, the pleated silk hem of her blue skirt and the frothy white lace of the petticoat beneath it churning behind her heels with the force of her strides.
She reached the door and opened it, but if Simon thought their conversation was over, he was mistaken.
“By the way,” she said, glancing over her shoulder at him as she paused with her hand on the knob, “since I am to be working for youfor the foreseeable future, there’s something you should know about me, something you might not yet have observed.”
“What’s that?”
Steel glinted in her eyes, like a duelist’s sword in the sun. “I don’t respond well to being lectured. I’m a woman, you autocratic bastard, not a naughty child.”
Before he could reply, she had walked out, slamming the door behind her with enough force to rattle the painting on the wall.
“Woman?” he muttered in the wake of her departure. “Tornado is more like it.”
But even as he spoke, the flaunting swing of her hips as she’d stalked away went through his mind, reminding him thatwomanandtornadowere not, at least in this case, mutually exclusive concepts.
Simon eased back in his chair, letting out his breath in a slow sigh as he appreciated the inevitable storms that lay ahead.
